Thank you for your reviews! I'm in shock from the season finale (if you haven't watched it, do it asap) and licking my wounds. I don't know how I'm going to last the summer without looking forward to Wednesday nights :c


Clarke pushed the tent flap aside and walked into camp. The sky was an ashen grey with looming dark clouds, ready to rain at any moment and blacken the atmosphere. The fire was still lit from the night before and the area was barren; most of the kids were off doing final errands before the storm hit. Once it began to pour, they'd be back. The air was heavy with pressure and Clarke felt it weighing on her shoulders, passing through her as though we were one with the atmosphere; drifting, tired, flat. Her arms dangled at her sides with apathy and her eyes were weighted to the ground.

She eyed the woods to her left and decided to make her way towards the trees. Maybe it'd be better to spend the night in one of the caches, separated from the drama and bustle. It had been less than a day since she'd returned, and as relieved as she was to have escaped the grounders, the fervent attention was weighing on her. It'd be nice to spend some time alone, without the constant nagging and reminder of what she'd just found out. She'd light some candles, curl up in a dry blanket, and let her mind slip away... just like she and Finn had days before. Those nights when the sky was pitch and nothing shone but the glow of their faces. The warmth of their skin against one another and the soft, lingering scent of sweat and oil, mixed with something sweeter. The utter silence, leaving nothing but-

"Why are you torturing yourself?" Clarke muttered, kneading at the knot between her eyes. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and sighed. "You're making a big deal out of nothing."

But it hurt. A lot. He'd betrayed her with his lies. Of course he'd had a life on the Ark – one filled with previous relationships - a past before he'd come to earth. She'd expected as much, especially from a guy with such a flirty presentation. But not bothering to tell her about his current girlfriend... it was cowardly. It didn't matter if he hadn't planned on seeing her again; Clarke deserved the truth. And the way he'd acted after he'd told her, like he still cared and planned to pursue whatever they had going on... it was so selfish. How could he try and win them both? If he still cared about Raven – who she felt nothing but pity for – it wasn't fair to try and salvage things with Clarke. She felt sorry for Finn's girlfriend, if anything; making the journey to earth in hopes of finding her love, only to discover that he'd been sleeping with someone else. Someone he'd just met.

God, it had only been ten days on earth when they'd spend the night in the hatch. How could he have cast his girlfriend aside so quickly?

Clarke grit her teeth in anger. Had he even told Raven? Maybe she was making too big a deal out of it, and the sex had been a one time thing. But something in Clarke's gut told her differently, and it made her sick. Raven likely knew nothing about what had been going on, and that just fired Clarke's building fury.

And on top of it all, she felt ashamed for being upset. The embarassment she felt was more powerful than anything. It was such a stupid situation, and she had no right to brood. She'd only known Finn for a few weeks, not nearly enough time to have established a serious relationship, and should have taken the news with a level head. It should've stung for a second, then slid off her back. Nothing more.

And yet she was still feeling sorry for herself.

She'd come last, and could accept that. It was okay to be the martyr. Hell, she was used to it, having suffered the consequences of others' actions again and again. Betrayal was starting to feel like something of bitter comfort, a normalcy that returned every time she gathered the courage to let someone in. No wonder she had a hard time trusting people; when she put her faith into someone's hands, they crushed it without second thought. She had to learn to accept it as a fact, that people were bound to cut their ties and leave her for dead.

But it hurt. And with hurt came anger, which led to fury, which led to an amplification of emotions that could only be calmed by complete and utter numbness.

Clarke dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand in frustration. Stop it! She growled to herself, relishing the sharp pain. Why are you feeling sorry for yourself? You're not a kid anymore, Clarke. Don't let someone's idiocy affect you. His past had nothing to do with you. Any girl could've taken your place and the result would've been the same. You weren't special. You were just another body to keep him warm on those lonely nights, to keep her place until she came down.

She'd been an idiot for letting herself get close to him. He didn't deserve either of them; not her, not Raven.

Clarke grimaced and shook the thoughts out of her head with a literal shake of her body. She focused on the muddy ground beneath her boots and had made it to the edge of the camp walls before Bellamy called her name.

"You okay?" Bellamy jogged up – well, tried to – beside her.

"I'm fine." Clarke muttered, then turned around and frowned. "What are you doing out of bed? You're going to rip your stitches."

Bellamy shrugged. "Couldn't spend any more time in the ship. Those guys are driving me crazy."

"I'm serious." Clarke insisted, feeling irritated on top of everything else. People expected her to heal them with the little medical knowledge she had, and yet they didn't bother listen to her advice. They wanted an instant fix but weren't willing to do any work themselves. It created more work for her and a greater chance of infection, which created even more work for her. "I'm not going to stitch you up again just because you're too stubborn and impatient to listen. If they rip, you're going to have to do it yourself. Without anesthetic."

Bellamy rolled his eyes and looked smug. "There wasn't any the first time." He said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Exactly. So you know how much it'll hurt."

Clarke ignored his grunt of a response and turned her heel, starting to walk towards the forest. She hoped to hear his footsteps residing as he took her silence for dismissal. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now, especially not Bellamy, of all people. Her chest was heavy and pressure was building behind her eyes, a feeling separate from the atmosphere; giving in was a path she did not want to take. It was easier to feel hollow and pretend the emotional current in her veins didn't exist. Emptiness was less effort to maintain. If she talked about it, she would be acknowledging the pain, making it real. And with reality came a rush of emotions, ones she didn't want to deal with right now, with everything going on. She couldn't handle the hurt, betrayal, anger, pity... they could wait for another day. One that wasn't anytime soon.

Clarke sighed and leaned against a pine tree. She wanted to tear at something, do something to release the building anger. That was another reason she'd wanted Bellamy to leave; so that there'd be no audience when she finally broke down.

And yet, to her manic frustration, she could still hear his breathing.

"Bellamy," she grit through clenched teeth. Her nerves were wearing thin. "Go away."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm serious." She warned. "I'm not in the mood."

Bellamy ignored her. "You know, Clarke," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not the worst listener in the world."

Her heart skipped a beat, but it felt heavy, like a stone dropping into an empty chasm. She was too tired. "I don't need your pity."

"About what?" Bellamy asked. He took a few strides so that he could face her, his eyes locked on hers. His expression was soft and concerned, yet determined. "Come on, princess. Don't make me beg."

"It's nothing." Clarke muttered. If only she could convince herself that it WAS nothing. "I'm fine. Go back to camp, Bellamy. You need to be lying down."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. "I may have been stabbed, but you look like hell, too. Go get some rest, I'll keep Finn and the rest of the idiots out of your tent. The camp can handle itself for the day." He held out his hand. "It's not safe out here, especially with grounders looking for blood."

She sighed deeply in frustration. "They wouldn't be this close to camp lines."

"You know that's a lie." He countered. She was starting to understand how other people felt when she wouldn't let up about something. He paused. "Just like the lies you're telling yourself."

"It's stupid." She muttered, shaking her head. She didn't want to explain it to him; it was embarrassing and childish, and she felt like she was back in middle school. They'd just escaped death and were being hunted by savages, and she was upset by boy trouble. "The last few days have sucked, that's all."

"No kidding." Bellamy agreed. His gaze locked on her and she could feel his dark brown irises enter her eyes with an iron grip. Conviction shone through his strong, dark eyes as he shifted his jaw. He took a slow step closer and his features softened with sympathy. "I'm serious, princess. What's wrong?" He looked genuinely concerned, a familiar warmth filling his gaze, the one that only appeared on blue moons. "Secrets do nothing but destroy us from the inside out. You know that."

Clarke sighed. She was too tired to argue. "Finn has a girlfriend." She muttered, feeling warmth creep up her cheeks. The words felt foreign on her tongue, heavy and sour. "And she's here. In camp."

Bellamy's brows knit together in confusion. "I didn't know spacewalker had come down with a girl."

Clarke shook her head, immediately regretting her decision to say anything. "He didn't. She arrived yesterday... on the dropship. The one we thought was a supply drop."

"The one we nearly died because of?" Bellamy's eyes widened as he thought for a moment, before making an 'o' shape with his mouth. He cocked his head to the side and frowned. "I wonder why she'd come alone." He contemplated. "Was she alone? Or were there others, passengers that didn't make it? Was the dropship like ours, or..."

He trailed off in thought, then shook his head, focusing. "Either way. Why does it matter?" Bellamy's mouth was twisted. "It's not like you two were together..."

He caught Clarke's eye and instantly froze. His lips parted and something dark flashed through his eyes. "...were you?"

"No." Clarke said, then faltered. Her cheeks flushed. "I mean, I... I don't know." She dropped her head in defeat. "Maybe."

Bellamt was silent for a few moments. When he finally spoke, it was gruff. "Well." He said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His posture had gone from relaxed to tense, ready with agitation. "Guess that sucks for you, then."

"Thanks." Clarke muttered, taken aback. She hadn't expected such a cold reaction. "Glad you were here to tell me that."

"No, I-" Bellamy reached for her shoulder and hesitated, slowly retracting his arm. "I didn't mean it like that. I just," He rubbed the back of his neck as his face muddled with confliction. "I don't know what to say. I didn't know that you were together..." There was an awkward silence between them as he thought. "It threw me off guard," He admitted. "I guess I'm not too great at comforting people."

"It's fine." Clarke whispered, sliding her back down the pine trunk until she touched the ground. Her arms rested at her sides tiredly. "Like I told Finn; there are so many more important problems we have to figure out. Maybe the stress is getting to me."

Bellamy took a seat a few feet away and looked at her intently. "You can't fix everything, princess."

"I know." Clarke dropped her head into her hands and gave an aggravated groan. Bellamy cracked a weak smile. "But I have to do something, or we're going to run into even more problems. Winter's coming, Bellamy, and we have two weeks of rations left, tops. The weather's already cold and we have no protection, not even blankets. The closest shelter is Mt. Weather, which was already guarded by grounders before we got them angry and basically declared war against their kind." She grimaced. "And here I am, thinking of nothing but how Finn used me, and how stupid I was for expecting anything less."

"Clarke." She raised her eyes at her name and met Bellamy's, who were staring into hers with a fervor that made her breath catch. "You're not stupid." He whispered, his voice low. "Just because spacewalker's too much of an idiot to see how..." His words faltered. "...strong you are, doesn't mean you should lower yourself to his level. Which is the lowest, by the way." He added.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards reassuringly. "You don't have to figure out everything right now, okay? We'll figure it all out later... together."

Clarke blinked and felt a fluttering in her chest. She was exhausted from the long trip the day before and bed was becoming ever more appealing in her mind. The fuzziness in her brain was thick as spiderwebbing and it was getting harder to focus. And maybe she was delirious with the current of polar-opposite emotions running through her...

...but she felt reassured by Bellamy's words. Maybe even something more, a feeling she couldn't identify. But something... good. She'd been waiting for Bellamy to sneer and tell her how childish she was, and had gotten the opposite.

She took a deep breath and touched his forearm gently. The contact made her cheeks redden a little. "Come on. Let's go back."

Bellamy gave a weary grin and rolled his eyes. "Afraid my stitches will break?"

"I think they already have." Clarke pointed at his abdomen and the small spot of red that was starting to seep through the tshirt. His eyes narrowed as he brought his fingers to the wound and winced at the touch.

"Ouch." Bellamy gave her a sheepish look. "Sorry."

It was Clarke's turn to roll her eyes as she pushed Bellamy forward and shoved every other emotion into the earth below. She still felt conflicted and torn, but the building pressure was gone. Somehow, she felt that she'd transferred some of it to him. "I'll fix them back at camp."

They walked for a few moments before Clarke stopped. She dropped her hands to her sides and looked at him seriously. "Bellamy?"

"Yeah?" Bellamy asked, turning. His face knit together tiredly, like he was worried she was going to argue with him again. "Don't tell me you're staying here. Cause there's so way in hell you're going to-"

"Thank you."

Bellamy looked at her in surprise. "I-" He stopped, then averted his gaze. His features softened. "No problem," he muttered, turning. He rubbed his head. "We have to..."

Clarke didn't hear him as he trailed off, but it didn't matter. Somehow, Bellamy's presence had made her stronger. She didn't know what that meant, but for now, it was enough to know that she wasn't alone. That she had a friend she could count on. They'd figure it all out together, decide what to do with the impending threats. And maybe, as a team, they could find a way to keep everyone alive.


As soon as Bellamy woke, he knew something was wrong. His mind was alert, but his body lay beneath him, sluggish and unresponsive. The disconnect lasted a few seconds until his brain met with his muscles, and he began to register his immediate surroundings.

Cold.

His sleeping bag was filled with residual warmth from his body, but his limbs were freezing. The ground was frozen solid and had formed uncomfortable lumps of hard soil beneath his back. He touched his skin and felt how cold he was. A puff of smoke appeared in the air and it took him a moment to realize that it was his breath. His breath. He grabbed a nearby sweater and pulled it over his head, rubbing his hands together as he sat up and pushed his way through the semi-frozen tent flap.

A boy stumbled into him. The kid was a moving sleeping bag, nothing but the top of his head sticking out.

"Hey." Bellamy grabbed the boy's shoulder and spun him around. "When did this start?"

The kid shot him an irritated look. "How would I know, genius? I just woke up." He shivered. "It's fucking freezing!"

Bellamy shoved him aside as he wrapped his arms around himself and made his way to the firepit. A few teens sat around it, awkwardly huddled and poking the small flame with a stick. He pushed through them in annoyance.

"We need tinder." He ordered, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. He couldn't bother understanding WHY the weather had changed so fast, just how they'd deal with it. "Lots of it. Firewood, too. We have to make this big, big enough to warm everyone."

"I don't want to go out there." One of the girls whined, curled in a ball beneath a ratty blanket. "What if it's colder in the woods?"

"Do you want to freeze to death?" Bellamy shouted. He didn't have the patience for stupidity. He turned to the rest of the group angrily. "Start gathering. Now."

The kids scattered. He sighed and scanned the perimeter, wondering if it'd be best to wake up the others. Maybe Clarke would have a better idea.

He'd turned his back to the forest for two seconds when someone tugged at his shoulder. He whirled around, ready to launch into an irritated speech about why they couldn't sit around and wait out the cold, when he came face to face with his sister.

"Bellamy." The tips of her long brown her were frosty and her lips tinged blue. She looked at him with fear. "Bellamy, I-"

"You gotta stay warm, O." Bellamy said gently, removing the blanket from his shoulders and wrapping it around hers. She shivered into it. "I don't know how long it's going to last, but we have to prepare fast. Hopefully it's like the acid fog; quick to hit, quick to dissipate."

Octavia shook her head. "Bell, it's not that."

Bellamy frowned and tilted her chin back to study her face. She looked alright, besides the obvious cold. "What is it? Are you hurt?"

"There's a boy," She whispered, biting her lower lip. She pointed to the forest line. "I don't think he's breathing."

Bellamy felt a jolt of adrenaline. "Where?" He let Octavia lead him to the side of the gate, where a young boy lay on the ground, partially covered in frost. He looked about fourteen, maybe thirteen, and his skin had turned a pale blue color. His short brown hair was frozen to the ground and his cheeks were white. His lips were cracked and parted with frost, and his eyes were closed. He almost looked... peaceful. Like he'd fallen asleep and just hadn't woken up.

"Fuck." Bellamy reached for the boy and recoiled at how cold his skin was. Ice cold. He tentatively pressed to fingers to the boy's neck and felt his own heartbeat accelerate at the lack of movement. Dead.

"Is he-?" Octavia leaned over his shoulder with a worried, terrified expression on her face. He looked into her eyes and saw that she already knew the answer. He nodded, and her shoulders drooped. "Oh, Bell..."

"Go back to your tent." Bellamy ordered, standing up. He brushed the frost from his pants and sighed at how the morning was turning out. They didn't need to add another to the growing body count. "You don't need to see this."

Octavia hesitated. "What are you going to do?"

"The ground's frozen solid." Bellamy said, feeling a headache building behind his right temple. "So we can't bury him, at least not yet. I'll get a blanket and cover him, then I'll tell the others. Maybe someone knows who he is."

Octavia gave a slight nod and took off, leaving Bellamy alone and staring down at the frozen corpse. The boy must've been out all night, and had only made it back to camp just as his body started shutting down from hypothermia. That confirmed his theory; the frigid weather had hit suddenly, without warning. Otherwise the boy would've made it into a tent and back to warmth.

Bellamy swallowed the nausea in his gut and turned his head, not wanting to look at the boy anymore. He tried to be brave, for his sister, for himself, for everyone... but death wasn't something he dealt with easily. It made him uneasy, wary. It reminded him that humans were fragile and able to die at any moment. They could all die at any moment, and they'd be helpless.

Rubbing the pounding spot above his right ear, he walked back to camp, a chill setting in his bones. It was going to be another long day.