Chapter 3: Of First Meetings and Realizations
Bellamy ignored his friends' voices as he scaled up the large tree and gripped a thick jungle vine, preparing to swing through the forests. It was a skill he'd picked up since he was a kid. He'd taken to howling and screaming nonsensical things as he swung from vine to vine. Early on he'd scared the life out of Kala after numerous falls from high up, but he eventually learned how to balance his weight and use his momentum to move swiftly and silently miles above the ground. He utilized the vines as an escape now.
This case in particular had to do with the chief. As Miller had predicted, the moment the three arrived at the village, Tristan awaited them, features as stern as always. He tore into Bellamy at the blink of an eye, accusing him of being an immature, selfish imbecile.
"Somehow you think you can behave like a child and become the chief of this tribe? Grow up, Bellamy, you'll never be more than a piss poor warrior, at best."
The words stung but the utter humiliation he'd received in front of all the Grounder tribe was too much to bear. Bellamy knew his mother would be worried if he stayed out all night, but seeing all the people he knew after they'd witnessed such a blow to his pride… No. He'd deal with the consequences of leaving the village after dark later.
Swinging through the jungle that had nurtured him, the only home he could put a face to, Bellamy took a deep breath and tried to remind himself he was content to be a Grounder and content to forget he'd come from a distant land with forbidden words like "civilization" and "society."
It didn't work and despite the love he felt for his tribe and for his mother, Bellamy felt an overwhelming sensation of loss, like he'd been ripped away from something precious and was just feeling the effect of that emptiness.
That may have been why his hands almost slipped from their hold on the vine at the sight of a young blonde woman stumbling frantically through the forests as a herd of rabid boars charged after her, not only because she was a complete stranger but because a part of him was telling him she was more than that.
"I'm staying right here, Clarke. If you want to trek through dirt and weeds searching for plan samples, that's up to you." Octavia said smartly, lying comfortably on a blanket with her eyes closed as the sun added a healthy glow to her already tan skin.
"You're going to sunbathe all day?"
"Yep. Murphy's setting up our camp and until I get hungry, I think this is the best way to spend my time."
On the one hand Clarke was glad her friend had decided to enjoy herself instead of torturing herself with morbid thoughts and images about her family. On the other hand, Clarke was not looking forward to traipsing through unknown jungle on her own. She knew she could ask Murphy to accompany her but she'd rather bite her own arm off then ask him for help, so she would go it alone. They'd arrived on the island hours earlier and no beast had tried to attack them. It was possible the animals were tame or at least deep enough into the forest that they wouldn't have to meet.
With those naïve thoughts in mind, Clarke grabbed her pack-filled with a small water canteen, a pack of nuts, her sketchbook and writing utensils, and a hunting knife she'd pressured Murphy into giving her- and pushed her way into the wild.
She hadn't gone more than a mile when she heard the twig snap behind her. Clarke's head snapped up from where it had been focused on scrutinizing the flower clusters for the mythical orionisis cautelis (the flower of healing). Her hand went to her bag and once the hunting knife was clutched in her right hand she chanced a step toward the sound. Big mistake.
Seconds later Clarke was running for her life as what seemed to be feral boards the size of a Great Dane stampeded after her. Her breathing had grown heavy and she'd dropped her knife somewhere along the way. She didn't want to waste a breath on a scream. No one knew where she was and those who could help her were too far away. She could feel her legs grow weaker and soon she'd have to stop and the boars would slaughter her. All Clarke could think was that she'd failed Octavia getting herself killed so stupidly.
O would be pissed and above that crushed at the death of yet another loved one. It wasn't fair on the girl and Clarke hated her own recklessness and poor decision making as her fatigue overcame her and she stopped, her chest heaving with exertion. She turned and saw the boars picking up speed as they sensed their prey had given up. Clarke closed her eyes and murmured goodbyes to her parents and Octavia before something slammed into her and suddenly she was flying.
Bellamy struggled with the weight of the girl as he swung her to the safety of the sturdy branches of the upper trees. She was not particularly heavy but he had no practice with carrying women on jungle vines, so it took all the muscle in his body to achieve the task. When he deposited her on the branch her previously closed eyes opened and in that instant Bellamy swore he felt his world stop.
The woman had blonde curls cluttering the sides of her face and sticking to her neck and she was of average height (meaning a lot shorter than him) and her beauty was clear but her eyes… were something else altogether.
The Grounder tribe was a diverse group made up of centuries of genetic evolution but dark eyes had always been a given. Monroe was the closest thing to an anomaly with her faded blue eyes bordering on a faintly luminescent black. This woman's eyes, though, were an electric blue with flecks of gold on the background allowing for a softer look altogether. Said eyes were narrowed on him with evident distrust and fear.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. I saw the boars were after you and I knew I could help. Are you injured?" Bellamy asked.
Her sapphire eyes widened as his lips moved in quick succession with his words but she did not respond. He asked his question again but still she only stared at him. Just as he thought she was deaf or mentally incapacitated, her pink lips parted and foreign sounds came out of her mouth. He tilted his head in confusion, listening to her "talk" and then understood the problem.
"We don't speak the same language, do we?"
Her resulting silence was all the answer he needed.
Clarke was still processing the fact that she'd survived so taking in the incredibly attractive man that had popped out of thin air and somehow rescued her was taking some time. She had her back against a tree, resting all her weight on a large tree branch suspended hundreds of feet from the ground and she'd apparently gotten there because this man had swung them both there using vines.
To top it off said handsome man was speaking in a language she was not aware existed. It didn't sound like French or Spanish or even Dutch (all tongues she'd heard in passing around the bustle of London) and that could only mean a new language from a new people. Where the hell was she, seriously?
"I don't know what you're saying and I'm going to assume my words are gibberish to you." She said and the man reciprocated with more foreign jargon.
Clarke ran a hand over her face and decided to take a breather. Too much had happened in one day and the least she could do was make herself more comfortable for the ride. She reached into her pack to grab a hair tie and pulled her frizzing curls into a high ponytail before taking a long sip of her canteen. The man watched her in an intense silence that she wished she could say unnerved her but in actuality made her oddly pleased.
"Thirsty?" she held out the canteen and he studied both it and her outstretched hand before shaking his head.
She capped the canteen and put it away, turning back to her with renewed interest. That had been progress. He'd read her actions and answered with his own so obviously he was intelligent. He must come from a tribe of people with their own language and customs. It was fascinating to have found one of the things she was looking for without even reaching Australia. Of course the priority was Octavia's family and the medicinal plants, but Clarke could compromise for now.
"I think it would help if we got to know each other. I could write what I'm saying out to you in my sketchpad… but that wouldn't work because the language is still different. Crap. I guess we could try it like this." She cleared her throat and placed her hand on her chest, making sure to look the man in the eyes. "I'm Clarke." She enunciated, repeating her name a few more times while keeping her hand on her chest.
When he had time to take that in she moved her hand in a gesture towards him and raised an eyebrow expectantly. His brow furrowed and his long eyebrows were drawn in as he analyzed what she'd done thoughtfully. She waited patiently and was rewarded when one of his large hands moved to his bare chest and his gruff voice formed one word-one name- she was well acquainted with.
"Bellamy."
She nearly fell from the tree.
Bellamy lunged forward, steadying the blonde woman-Clarke- with his arms. She was avoiding his gaze and instead staring fixedly at his chest, probably at the tribal markings inked onto his shoulders and biceps.
"Clarke." He tried the name out and her cerulean eyes reluctantly met his.
The proximity was having a similar effect on them both. Clarke had never been so close to a half-naked man before (Bellamy was after all only in what passed as a loincloth) and his arms were still wrapped around her waist. His skin was hot and she imagined her own was just as warm from the island sun. For Bellamy, the encounter was not as strange since he had slept with more than one girl in the village, but there had never been more than a purely sexual reason to engage with a woman. Obviously, he was attracted to Clarke because she was extremely attractive, but more than that he was fascinated by her.
Bellamy had always been curious and in boyhood it had cost him a fall into an alligator swamp and several sprained ribs from losing his hold on tree branches or jagged rock cliffs. That might have been why he resolutely decided he would learn everything there was to know about this woman.
Clarke cleared her throat and her eyes went pointedly to his arms encompassing her small waist so he immediately removed them and moved out of her personal space. Step one: make her comfortable enough not to run from you. Step two: try and communicate.
Easier said than done, he thought.
Clarke knew he didn't remember her and above that didn't remember who he was. He'd retained his name but wherever he lived now, most likely with an island tribe, it was a different world. Her chest ached as she studied him, all supple muscles and olive skin. His hair was in messy curls around his sculpted features and his brown eyes were vibrant as if he'd inhaled the chaotic energy of the forest. He was beautiful and mysterious but Clarke didn't lose hope. She would help him remember.
Clarke shifted closer and raised one hand to his face. He pulled away from her on the tree branch but she followed him, her eyes reminiscent of the sea after a storm-soothing azure. Bellamy stayed completely still as her palm cupped his face and the tips of her fingers ghosted over the freckles dusting his cheeks.
"I remember you, Bellamy. I promise you'll remember Octavia and your parents and England… and me." Her voice grew quiet and he regarded her thoughtfully, reading the sorrow in her face.
She shook herself out of the past and removed her hand from his face, shooting him a sheepish look. Bellamy graced her with a broad grin and before she could blink both of his large hands were holding her face, his fingers copying the motions her own had done on his face.
"Clarke." He repeated and she laughed.
"We're going to work on the common language thing. If I taught Octavia French I can reteach you English."
Bellamy nodded, not understanding the words but comprehending enough to figure she was on board with finding a method of communication. Silence fell between them again and Bellamy realized he still held her face in his hands. Her skin was smooth under his calloused fingers and the contact was causing a strange tingle through his body. He noticed he was leaning in closer and closer when her warm breath caressed his lips.
"What are you doing?" she asked and he watched the rosy lips move but only moved closer until their lips were a mere centimeter from-
BOOM
Bellamy jumped back from Clarke at the loud sound coming from somewhere in the forest.
"Murphy." Clarke growled, annoyed the asshole guide had ruined whatever had been about to happen between her and Bellamy.
"Murphy?" Bellamy questioned.
"Yeah, Murphy. Total dick." She spat.
"Murphy. Total dick." Bellamy nodded and Clarke's eyes widened before bursting into laughter.
Bellamy picked up some words easier than others and when she enunciated the syllables it was simple for him. It would come in handy for later. She was already planning the picture books and projections she could show him.
"Clarke!"
Crap. Octavia. I didn't consider my best friend at all.
Clarke considered telling Octavia about finding Bellamy, but ultimately decided against it. Bellamy wouldn't remember his sister (she'd been a newborn when he left her) and judging by his appearance he was living with a native tribe and most likely wasn't with his parents. That would mean Mr. and Mrs. Blake were dead. The news would overwhelm Octavia and Clarke would rather save her friend the pain until she could present her brother properly, speaking English and remembering that he had a sister in the first place.
"I have to go." Clarke said, an urgency Bellamy didn't miss in her tone. "Go." She said, pointing downwards.
"Go." Bellamy agreed and stood, pulling the nearest vine to him.
He extended his hand to Clarke and she took it but not before making various gestures and slipping in words that basically translated to "You can't be seen so stay quiet."
Bellamy swung them down to the jungle floor and as Clarke heard the approaching footsteps of Murphy and Octavia, she turned to Bellamy.
"You have to go."
"Go?" Bellamy asked, slightly irritated because he believed they had already done 'Go.'
"You." She pointed at him. "Go." She pointed back up to the trees. "Now."
She made a sweeping motion and Bellamy chuckled at the blonde's elaborate gestures. She was as funny as she was beautiful.
"Now. Go." He chirped, taking one of her hands and placing the kiss they'd been denied earlier on the back of her palm.
And then he was gone and Clarke was left to face the wrath of her best friend.
"You've been gone hours. What the hell?! You want me to lose my mind with worry!"
Murphy rolled his eyes at Octavia's dramatics.
"Can we please settle down and have some freaking food now? Lunch was hours ago." He gave Clarke a perfunctory glare before going back the way he'd come.
"Whatever, Murphy. I don't answer to you and I'm sorry, O, I didn't realize how much time had passed. I was exploring and sketching in my book. There's research to be done here too. I'll be doing it more often."
"Fine, I'd just like a warning next time. God."
"Sorry, O."
They began walking back to their camp but Clarke quickened her steps to catch up to Murphy.
"Why the hell were you shooting in the forest? I heard you wasting bullets before. Unless something's trying to kill you, you shouldn't be shooting at it. It'll scare off other animals and disrupt this ecosystem." She chastised.
Murphy shot her an unimpressed look and huffed a laugh.
"The day I listen to you is the day I die, Princess."
"My name is Clarke." She snarled.
"So it is. I was hired as a guide and protector not a tree hugger or animal cuddler, like you choose to be."
Clarke fell into step with Octavia and settled for glowering at the man's back.
I stand by what I said earlier. Murphy is a total dick. If a wild boar wants to run him down, well let's say I won't be shedding tears over it.