Chapter Nine

Bellamy:

It's the middle of the night when I wake up. But I can't go back to sleep. My mind keeps churning, and it's keeping me awake. So I don't try to fall asleep.

I shrug on my jacket and boots and slip outside my tent. I just close my eyes and breathe. The night air is cold, but it is calming to me. The cold alerts my senses, and I immediately spot the gentle light that's coming from Clarke's tent.

That's right. She has nightmares too. Is that why she is up? I cross the camp silently, making my way to her tent. It's funny, because I remember how loud I was when we first arrived. Everyone was loud. But we've grown. Not just individually, but as a group. We are the same.

There's a slight scratching sound coming from Clarke's tent. I pause outside and wrinkle my brow. What is that?

"Princess?" I ask quietly, "are you awake?"

The scratching noise stops, and there's a slight rustle. Clarke pulls aside the tent and looks up at me.

She gives the tent flap to me wordlessly and slips inside. She wants me to follow. There's no communication necessary. I pull aside her tent exit, and slip inside after her.

"I'm making a map," she says, answering the question I was about to ask.

"Then what was the scratching noise? Aren't maps made with paper?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "Yes, Bellamy, maps are generally made with paper. But, do you see any paper around here?"

"Ah," I say, "good point."

"Mine always are," she says in response.

"Cocky."

"Arrogant."

"Same thing," I tell her humorously.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide with happiness. "Mmm." She smiles. "Exactly."

I smile back at her before remembering the map. "So, if you aren't using paper, then what are you using?"

She bends down and picks up a large piece of metal. How did I not notice that before? Probably because my attention was focused on Clarke.

"I'm using this," she says, handing it to me. "A piece from the drop ship."

I look at her work. It's amazing. It truly is. She has carved into the metal a representation of our camp, the bodies of water nearby, and the forest. She's added the grounder's camp as well. But she hasn't just simply put it into the metal. She's made it into a piece of art. She doesn't know how talented she is.

"Clarke," I say, "this is amazing."

She smiles as I hand the map back to her. "Thanks. I thought it could help take my mind off things. Besides, it would help the camp."

Silence falls between us, and the only noise is the slight rustle the wind make against the tent.

"So why are you up?" she asks after a while.

"Couldn't sleep," I say simply. "You?"

Her smile falters, just slightly. She purses her lips. "Sleep wasn't..." her voice drifts off. She quickly catches herself, and her eyes return to mine. "Favorable, if you know what I mean," she finishes.

I nod. I do know what she means. And that's why I pull her into a hug. Nightmares. The word is unspoken, but it sits between us. The silence is heavy, drifting between us and embracing us tightly. Clarke slowly pulls away, and begins to speak. She hesitates slightly before speaking.

Her eyes flicker with pain as she speaks. "Asher told me something, the day before he died." She cringes at the word, no doubt remembering everything, and looks away.

I smile sadly at her, and gently pull her chin up. Her eyes slowly drift towards mine. "Hey, you don't have to tell me."

"I know," she says, her voice flickering with sadness. "But I want to." She breathes a shaky breath, and I let my hand fall to my side. "Asher talked about his family a lot. But his story changed slightly every time. Especially when he would tell me about his father. One day he told me his father worked for a Phoenix man. But the next day, he told me his father was a guard on Phoenix. The stories never matched up.

"The day before he died, I confronted him. I knew he was keeping something from me. I just didn't know what. It was like he was trying to protect me from something. I finally got him to tell me." Her breath catches at the end of her sentence, and she licks her lips. Her eyes return to mine, slowly. Eventually, she says, "His father was mine too. He never actually knew who our father was. His mother just told him the name. Jake Griffin."

AN: Hello! So this was a really short update, but I just wanted to get something done. Thank you to all of my readers, and the lovely reviews. They really keep me inspired.

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I will try to update soon!