AN: This is going to be a very short chapter, more or less to just get an idea of Clarke and fill in some before a lengthy chapter three. I apologize in advance.

Clarke

"Bellamy?" I asked, crinkling my forehead in confusion. I looked around the room. Four white walls, some medical equipment. A hospital. How did I manage to end up in a hospital, with Bellamy Blake at my side, no less? I tried to sit up some, and as I did so I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my back. I let out a gasp, not expecting the pain, and squeezed the edge of the bed to release some of the tension. Oh, that's how I got here. Someone shot me. I felt out of body and emotional, mostly angry and confused. The feeling was familiar, however. PCP. My favorite. If I had this much pain on the PCP, I couldn't wait to feel how bad it was once it wore off.

"Easy, Clarke. You don't need to move too much," Bellamy said in a calming voice, putting his hand out to help if I needed it. But I didn't need it. Not from him, anyway. Seeing him, I felt anger brewing in me. It didn't make any sense for him to be here. I didn't need him. I hadn't needed him for years. Why did he think I needed him here all of a sudden? And how did I get here?

"Why are you here?" I asked slowly. My voice sounded cold, accusing. I tried to replay what had happened in my head, figure out where Bellamy played into the picture. I couldn't remember seeing him for what, three or four years? No, five, actually. Since I was in college. Maybe he was the one who shot me. I knew it wasn't him though, I remember the guy. He was tall, scrawny, much like all of the other men we do business with. I remember him and Murphy arguing over something, drugs, I think. Then he threatened me, and Murphy told him to do it. I know Murphy didn't think he actually would, or else he wouldn't have said it. He protects his girls, especially me. Bellamy still sat, staring at me. His eyes met mine for just a moment. My stomach fluttered. Or clenched. I wasn't sure which.

"I'm the one who found you," Bellamy explained, sitting up. His voice became harsher, less soft. "I figured you needed someone here that you knew when you woke up."

"I don't know you, not anymore," I replied, honestly. My words were delayed, slurred, effected by the PCP. I could feel it wearing off though. Bellamy didn't say anything. He just looked down at his hands, taking a deep breath. He used to do that before, too. He did it when he was frustrated or annoyed. I noticed he hadn't changed much at all, really. Same dark brown hair, that fell into beautiful curls around his face. Same color skin. Same everything. I made a mental note to stop thinking about him. I hated him. I didn't know why, but at that moment it made sense. "Can I have my phone?"

"I don't have it," He said, reaching into his pocket and handing me a black S5. "But you can use mine."

"Thanks," I said, a little softer this time. I avoided eye contact. I was still out of it, I could tell. My emotions were all over the place. Maybe it was the PCP still, or all the meds the IV had me hooked up to. Either way, I dialed Murphy's number, anxious to hear his voice. I missed him. Every second I wasn't with him I longed for him. He was my constant. He was better than Bellamy. He was my post-Bellamy. Except, Murphy never broke me like Bellamy.

"Hello?" Murphy picked up. He sounded sober, which was surprising. I smiled, even though he couldn't see it.

"Hey, baby," I replied, still slurring my words, my heart skipping a beat at hearing his voice. I stared down at my IV, fiddling with the cord, debating on ripping it out. Whatever they had me hooked to was messing with my high, and I didn't like it.

"Clarke?!" Murphy sounded surprised. "How are you… I thought you were dead!"

"Me too, but I'm not. Look, could you come get me?" I asked, somewhat disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm. He just found out his girlfriend wasn't dead, and he sounds more upset than happy. Before Murphy has a chance to respond, Bellamy butts in.

"Clarke, you can't go for another week, you're not healthy enough," Bellamy said. I knit my brows at him.

"What?" I asked.

"You still have the bullet in. You got shot less than six hours ago. You aren't healthy enough to go home. You can't even move."

I ignored him, going back to the phone, where Murphy began talking again.

"Look, Clarke. I don't think you coming back home with me is a very good idea right now, or anytime soon. You're hurt. You're not healthy enough for this," Murphy explained. I felt my stomach clench at his words. He couldn't possibly be serious.

"Murphy, don't do this. I love you, isn't that enough? I can still work. I promise." I pleaded, though barely. I knew nothing was going to change his mind, though.

"Call me when you're healthy enough, okay?" He said, completely skipping over my question.

"Where am I supposed to go?" I asked, swallowing and noticing how dry my throat was. I began to feel the intense anger building up again.

"I don't know, Clarke. It's not my decision." With that statement, Murphy hung up the phone. I looked down, bringing the phone down from my ear and taking a deep breath. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes. I'm not sure why. Was I sad or angry? Or both?

"Hey, are you okay?" Bellamy said, reaching out and touching my arm. I instinctively jerked away, letting out a cry of pain as I did so. Stupid gunshot wound. Stupid Murphy. Stupid Bellamy. "Can you tell me what happened? Who shot you?"

"Too many questions, it doesn't matter," I muttered, glancing at him. When I did I met his eyes. They were filled with worry. I took a deep breath, not letting myself get lost in them like I used to. I had Murphy now. I didn't need Bellamy. He's the reason I'm like this. He's the one who turned on me.

"Was it your boyfriend?" Bellamy asked more sternly.

"What? Of course not!" I replied, looking at him like he was insane. "He didn't mean for me to get hurt, he just didn't know how to help."

"Wait, he knew you got shot?" Bellamy asked, sitting forward some more, confusion plastered on his face. I shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess, he was there."

"And he just left you?!" Bellamy said, louder and even more sternly then before. He stood up quickly, making me flinch and sending a sharp shooting pain through my back. I ripped the IV out as he did so, knowing the medicine they had me on was somehow blocking the drug effect. I needed to get rid of the pain. I had to. Bellamy must have saw my pained expression, as he relaxed and said more softly, "Clarke, ripping your IV out isn't okay. And neither is leaving you."

"You did the same thing," I said. Even before I said it, I realized how childish it sounded. It had been five years. I'm sure Bellamy was over it. He probably didn't even remember the fight. It was a stupid fight. It never should have happened. I knew I should've just been honest with him and told him about the baby. Maybe it would've changed things.

"I didn't leave you to-"

But I didn't listen to the rest of his sentence. I rapidly began to feel light-headed, my vision began to go in and out.

"Clarke!?"

I felt Bellamy turn me on my side quickly as I shakily sucked in a deep breath. This wasn't normal. I tried to push Bellamy off, but I couldn't move. I heard one last thing, almost indecipherable.

"Can someone help? She's seizing!"

AN: I'll be honest, this was a weak chapter. But I feel like it was necessary. Will try to have chapter three up soon, and I promise it will be better.

Reviews make my day, even on this POC.

ALSO- Would y'all please tell me if you would prefer shorter chapters updated more often, or longer chapters updated less often?