Chapter 4: Power Struggle

I'm a goddamn idiot.

Clarke pressed her palm against the hot skin of her neck, eyes flooding with tears. Her lips were prominently swollen, discolored from their passionate caresses. Her ivory skin was stained red by the repeated blood rushing across her skin. Bellamy left her with a firm kiss to the forehead, an odd parting for a one-time thing that meant nothing. Maybe he was trying to say no hard feelings? Clarke clasped her bra with shaky hands, blinking the large tears away rapidly. You can fix this. You can move past this. Dammit, why'd you give in? Why, why, why? Her hand flew up to her mouth because she felt like she was going to throw up. She thought she forgot Finn's warnings, but she hadn't. She knew it was wrong, she knew that she was upsetting the balance but he started it, didn't he? What the hell was his game? How the hell did he define mine?

She dressed herself, feeling completely different. Clarke didn't know if she felt sick because she enjoyed sex with Bellamy or if it was because wanted to do it again or if she was actually disgusted that she had sex with Bellamy. Either way, she felt dirty. Not as dirty as she felt when she found out about Raven, though. Did that mean something? Maybe. Did she want to elaborate on that fact now? Hell no.

God, I smell like him…

His sweat.

The darkness shielded her as she stepped out of the drop ship. At first, she covered herself with the parachutes but then she made a run for it. All she wanted to do was go to her tent and possibly cry herself to sleep. Clarke shook her head, "No. Don't be a baby about this. You two fucked, no big deal. He's been with everyone. Chill out. It's not that bad." Her pep talk didn't really help, but she knew that she couldn't hide from him.

Rationally speaking, she couldn't hide from Bellamy. She could be professional if she took four deep breaths and pretended their sexual experience was a racy dream. They would have to talk about rations, medicinal supplies, herbs and Jasper kissing Harper—what? Clarke's eyes widened, having to change the course of her path to give them some privacy. "Dammit, is everyone hooking up around here?" She mumbled under her breath, thinking she should have stayed in the drop ship. No, you needed the air… you needed the open space… you needed the walk…

Everything felt wrong—off—because she was so fucking confused. Did it mean something? Did it not mean anything? What the fuck did "mine" mean? She had half the mind to ask him all those questions, but the smarter half of her mind said not to waste her breath.

In summary, she was torn.

Torn; sweet, hot, sexy, erotic, secretive, private and perfect.

Torn; wrong, inappropriate, unprofessional and…damn, what were her other adjectives?

She ran her tongue across her teeth.

One-time thing, remember?

Or…

Clarke ran right into Nathan Miller with a loud thump. As if by design, she fell right on her ass. "Oh shit, sorry Clarke." Miller said offering her a hand but Clarke swatted his offer away, claiming she could get up on her own. He chuckled softly, putting his rejected hand in the pocket of his jacket.

"It's not your fault, I wasn't watching where I was going." Clarke rolled her eyes, pushing herself up with her hands. She stopped mid-push when she heard Bellamy bellowing Miller's name from across the camp. "How did he even see you?" Clarke narrowed her eyes to try to get a better view before she blushed deeply and returned her sight back to Miller.

Miller shrugged, "Probably the glow of your halo, angel."

Clarke snorted and smiled at him, her foot moving back and forth in the dirt as she looked up at him. "Smooth."

He chuckled, "That was lame."

"Kind of." Clarke agreed, continuing the laugh at him. That is, until Bellamy completely silenced both of them with an intense glare that had undertones of a death threat. She pushed herself up finally, brushing off her pants. "Well…" She started to back up away from them.

"Walk safe, Ang—" Miller said with a charming smile on his face—strictly platonic.

"Stay, Princess…" Bellamy's words weren't platonic but that was only obvious to Clarke. She noticed the subtle plea and the softness of his voice.

"—el."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at his lieutenant, "Go relieve Monroe." He said with wide, menacing eyes before he turned to Clarke. "Angel? I didn't realize you and Miller were so close."

"I didn't realize it mattered." She wasn't going to tell him that it was a joke, that it just happened and it didn't mean anything. She didn't feel like she had to tell him. She shrugged, "Don't you have something to do?"

He cleared his throat and nodded, walking away from her.

I knew it.

One-time thing.

And now that she had her answer, she could move forward. She could take a few deep breaths, and move forward. She could inhale, exhale, inhale again and forget that she smelled like him. Forget that he could probably smell himself on her. Forget that he sounded jealous when he asked about Miller. Forget what they just did. Forget what she screamed. Forget what he asked her to scream. Forget their first kiss. Forget their second. Forget their third. Forget that she wanted more…

She could forget that, right?

I'm a goddamn idiot.