Clarke winces at the grating of the cell door being opened, and while almost everyone else flinches at the sudden noise Bellamy doesn't move an inch.
The blonde crept slowly into the cell, shoulders tensing, coming up to her ears in fright when the cell door is closed behind her. The thought of what Bellamy had done, all those people dead, should make her afraid to be in the same space as him but looking down at his curled form on the floor she just feels lonely.
Bellamy usually took up so much space, he was a big guy for sure but it wasn't just physically, his presence demanded attention and respect; the lines of his jaw set steel through anyone that disobeyed him. But he also had a gentleness that ran right through him, in his eyes when he talked to someone in his hushed, calm tone and in his hands when his fingertips brushed hers or when he took care of his sister.
He was so big and important it seemed there wasn't enough room in the world or Clarke's heart to hold all of him. But now he was small and cold and he didn't move. It was like seeing a dying star, once bright and full and shining, now only a cold rock that'll never shine again.
The medic gingerly sat down against the wall a little away from the boy on the ground. She didn't even know what to say. She cleared her throat and looked at him, seeing only a little of his face over his shoulder and his head of curls before shaking her head and looking at the ground instead.
She was quiet for a few moments longer before finally pushing her words through her hesitant teeth.
"My mum asked me to talk to you. You haven't moved in a while and she thought I could help. She's worried about you." She let out a small puff of air in a laugh.
"Which is pretty funny when you think about it. When she first saw you all she could see was the criminal who shot Jaha. Of course she ignored the part about you protecting Octavia. Although now Jaha is causing trouble in camp and I think Mum and Kane might want to shoot him themselves."
She peeked a glace over at Bellamy again but the only movement was his chest slowly rising and falling. She sighed and looked away again.
"Mum says you have PTSD. I know what that is, I've lived through it myself and if that's the case then we'll help you Bellamy. I can't have this end like Finn. I meant it when I said I couldn't lose you and I know I left, twice, but I honestly thought it was the right thing to do. I didn't want to leave you, I thought I was doing what I was supposed to. I guess that's what you thought when you and Pike went and…."
Clarke looked over at him again, most of the awkwardness falling away at the realization that he probably didn't even know she was there. He was catatonic, unresponsive. He didn't respond to anything, perhaps because he couldn't hear her at all.
Watching as Bellamy's chest moved, the blonde noticed a small hitch, almost a flinch in the tensing of his shoulders, when he took a particularly deep breath. Frowning the girl inched closer, watching carefully to confirm her suspicions. Looking closer she could see one of the boys arms wrapped protectively over his ribs. He wasn't just hiding, he was hurt.
"Bellamy? What's wrong with your chest?"
She moved closer, feet scuffing the floor as she scooted to the boy, and it was small but he moved. His arm tugged closer, turning away from her slightly. Clarke froze, keeping her gasp quiet as she moved slower, reaching a hand towards him.
"Bellamy if you're hurt let me help." Her fingertips brushed his arm and while he tensed he did not move again, she leaned over him and saw his eyes fixed to the wall, a determined set to his jaw and the crease of his eyebrows. He looked like a sulking toddler, though not many toddlers had a tantrum body count in the hundreds.
Kneeling over him, Clarke watched closely for retaliation as she took hold of the bottom of his shirt and started to pull it up. Bellamy didn't move save for his fist which he curled tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Clarke watched his skin as it was exposed, the goose bumps that rose, the bruises that displayed themselves on his skin.
The medic's fingers ran over the blooming colors, noting the patterns and shapes telling her how they were made, but also the change in Bellamy's breathing. Her mother had told her they had forced him in the cell, these were the evidence of just how hard he had struggled. She looked over his shoulder again to note the same bruising on his wrists where they grabbed him.
Clarke pressed her hands harder into his ribs, making sure none were broken, wincing in sympathy when Bellamy squirmed at the pressure.
"I think there may be one or two cracks but nothing too serious."
He didn't reply.
"I don't suppose you're going to let me check the other side."
Still no reply, though Clarke suspected if it was comfortable enough for him to lie on his side for more than a day then it couldn't too bad. Of course it wouldn't be entirely unusual for the soldier to put up with it as a punishment to himself.
Clarke was about to sigh at his stubbornness again when she noticed something peeking from beneath his shirt, higher up on his back, something that made her breathing stop altogether.
They looked like scars, messy and patched like burns that had healed badly.
Tugging his shirt higher to try and reveal the scars made Bellamy grunt in protest. Clarke looked to his face in surprise and saw him looking at her from the corner of his eye, head barely moved from its position. Clarke looked him in the eyes as she pulled his shirt, giving him a look that said 'no matter what it is I need to see it'
The fabric was pushed up to reveal the scars littering his back. They looked like chemical burns, light and not as bad as they could be but they were there. Other lines on his neck told her of the tubes that had invaded him and stolen his blood. She had heard of how he was tortured, how the mountain men treated their new captives but this… this was the proof that she could see and feel under her fingertips. These were scars that wrote out her guilt because these were her fault.
Bellamy watched her as she touched the scars, her hands shaking as they mapped out the memories of hell that his skin was left to hold. His eyes were sad but a little relieved like finally she understood. She understood how much pain he was in, how much she left him to handle on his own, like the rippled skin was an explanation to why he had been slowly losing his mind.
"Bellamy I'm….. I didn't know it was this bad. I hadn't known that they…. If I had….oh Bellamy."
It did make sense now though. He had been through hell and she had left him with the aftermath. She looked into his eyes and saw the hollowed out shell of someone who had given everything to protect those he cared about, only to be left behind when they left him.
