They're gearing up to leave. Well, Bellamy is gearing up to leave.
"I still don't get why I can't go, mom," Clarke has been throwing a temper tantrum over her mother's (and Bellamy's) decision for the last twenty minutes.
"Because, Clarke, we need all able medics in the camp to help any injured brought back to us."
"Shouldn't there be a medic out in the field for those people? What if they need medical attention but can't be moved? Who will help those people?"
Bellamy, who has been quiet thus far, agrees with Clarke. He's about to say so when Chancellor Griffin speaks up.
"Me," she says it as if it's the only logical thing to do.
"What?" Bellamy and Clarke speak in unison.
"I'm going with you," she speaks directly to Bellamy this time. She is looking at him with a pointed look. One that tells him that she won't be swayed in her decision. Her face is set, her lips in a tight line and her eyes hard with determination. It's a look Bellamy knows well from spending so much time with her daughter.
"Mom! You have no battle experience! Do you even know how to fight?!"
"It can't be hard to pick up. This isn't up for discussion. If you make a scene I will be forced to have you detained." Clarke gapes after her mother's retreating form.
"She just-" she stutters. "Can you believe—she's so stubborn!"
"It runs in the family," Clarke turns her head towards him so fast he's sure she's pulled a muscle. She finds him smiling softly down at him. She's only ever seen that smile a few times and it's always directed at Octavia.
"Don't tell me you agree with her!" She yells, making him take a step back, his hands raised slightly. Even considering her small stature, Clarke is intimidating and Bellamy is sure she's going to reach out and hit him.
"Do I think she'll be able to hold her own in battle? Maybe. If she's anything like you," with his words, he gives her a pointed look. Clarke opens her mouth to protest and he almost, almost, puts his hand over her mouth to stop her. "Wait a second," he says instead. "I don't think she's more capable than you, but if it means you'll be here, safe, then I'm all for it." He steps forward and tucks a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She jerks away from his hand and casts her eyes angrily to the ground. "Hey, at least she didn't say anything about last night, right?" She refuses to look up at him.
"Let's move out!" An adult guard yells out across the yard. Bellamy drops his hand that had frozen in midair when she'd jerked away from his touch. He sighs and turns, walking towards the entrance.
"Bellamy!" She lets out a strangled cry and covers the ground between them in five steps. She grabs his shoulders and pulls him down to her level in a tight hug. "Come back to me," she whispers into his ear.
Without thinking on it too long, Bellamy dips his head down, capturing her lips with his. He intends it to be a quick, farewell kiss, but she refuses to release him. Not that he's complaining.
Her hands grasp tightly to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. It grows from a place of comfort and farewell into something desperate as Bellamy lifts her up, his arms locked tightly at the small of her back.
"Blake! Should we wait for you two to finish or are we going?" Kane is leading the group.
Bellamy breaks away from Clarke, leaving them both breathless. The void of her warmth is a shock to him. He looks over her shoulder and sees her mother staring over at them, mouth open.
"Come back to me," she repeats and before he leaves, he gives her hand a tight squeeze.
"It's about damned time," Raven says, leaning against the med bay with a smirk on her face.
Get through the Reapers, they'd said. Get through the Reapers and then Mount Weather will be as easy as blowing down a house of cards.
They were wrong. Through blood and sweat dripping into his eyes, Bellamy takes in his surroundings. The ground is littered with bodies, the Reapers (Grounders... whatever.) and his people. The fighting is mostly over and since he's still standing he assumes that means they'd won. There were still a few clashes of weapons here and there, but for the most part, his people were still standing with him. As he walks over the bodies he can't help but feel like this is the furthest thing from a victory. He's banged up pretty badly and walks with a limp, but honestly, he's had worse.
Right now his focus is on finding Abby. He hasn't seen her (hasn't really looked for her) since the bloodbath had begun.
While carefully navigating over the bodies, a hand lashes out and grabs his ankle. He looks down and finds a set of dark brown eyes staring up at him. He pauses and looks over the young girl grasping his ankle for dear life. Something about the way she looks at him brings back the memory of Octavia back on the Ark. It's a look of scared desperation. Only this girl is not afraid of the hole in the floor boards, she's not afraid of being found by the soldiers on the Ark. She's gasping for breath and he notices a large spear lodged in her stomach. He bends at his knees and brushes her hair off of her forehead. She can't be more than fourteen. Her eyes plead with him. What is it that Clarke said the Grounders tell their people before they die?
"Your fight is over," he tells the young girl, unable to speak, he can see the gratefulness in her eyes and, calling a memory of Clarke ending Adam's life to memory, he slips the knife deep into the side of her neck. He stands, deeply shaken by the young Grounder and continues his search for Abby; he will just have to compartmentalize the brutality surrounding him and deal with it later. Right now, Abby is his main concern. He can't return home to Clarke without her. Just then, his eyes catch on a familiar mop of light hair lying face down in the dirt.
When he reaches the body, he bends and rolls her over, confirming his suspicions. Abby. She's still breathing.
"Abby?" Bellamy says, hoping that she will return his gaze, but she is looking at nothing, her eyes closed. The cold ground is beginning to leach all of his body heat, but right now with Abby gasping in his lap he doesn't care. "Let's get you back to the Ark," he says, not even sure she can hear him, let alone comprehend his words.
With a quick assessment he decides that she isn't too badly injured. Probably just a hit on the head. He hopes he's right. With the help of some of the others, Bellamy loads their inured onto the stretchers.
"We need to send a few to scout out Mount Weather. Make sure there aren't more of them," Miller nods his head at a Grounder at their feet.
"You're right. But for now, we need to get our people back to the Ark."
"We can send those less injured." Bellamy considers this.
"Okay," he nods. "If you feel up to it, take three men with you. Report back to me," he says this with emphasis. Miller is still one of his people; he doesn't want Camp Jaha making decisions without him and Clarke."As soon as you get back." Miller nods and heads off, grabbing Sterling and one of the other original 100, Bellamy can't see his face but he's sure that it's a boy named Arthur.
The group left behind lifts the stretchers and they all start for Camp Jaha. They'll come back for their dead later.
The gates to Camp Jaha are already open when Bellamy's band of injured arrive.
"Get the injured to the med bay," he says to no one in particular.
Bellamy head towards his tent, desperately wanting to sleep in his own bed.
It took two weeks of tracking to find the Grounders helping Mount Weather. Then another week was spent watching them, "scoping out their weaknesses," Kane had said. It had taken only 20 minutes for Kane's lifeless body to crumple to the ground.
He had tried to keep track of the fatalities but eventually he lost track. All he knew now was that they'd killed the last of the Grounders opposing them. Well, at least they'd killed off the last of them on this side of the sea.
When they had left camp they took 300 of their soldiers, some of them a part of the original 100, and about 200 Grounders.
Now Bellamy is bringing back barely 200. If even that many. He crashes into his bed, not even bothering to change his clothes.
His dreams are riddled with screaming people and the sounds of heavy flesh hitting hard against the rain soaked earth. He jolts awake just as a Grounder is pulling back to drive a spear through his heart. He's gasping for air, hand clutching his chest and his eyes move wildly about his tent. Everything slows down when he sees her at the edge of his bed.
"I didn't want to wake you," her voice is flat as she lifts a small med kit with blood soaked hands.
"How long did I sleep?" He asks, moving over to allow her easier access to his wounds. He winces with the movement, his body becoming stiff from lying in the same position for an extended period of time.
"About three hours?" She pulls out a needle and some thread after cleaning out a deep gash just under his ribcage.
"Your mom? How is she?" He winces again as she pushes the needle through his tough skin.
"She's stable. They think a pretty serious head injury. Without any kind of scan, they are just pulling at straws though. We'll know more when she wakes up. If she wakes up." She finishes stitching him up and inspects a few other cuts, cleaning and bandaging them as she goes.
"Hey," he puts his thumb under her chin, tilting her face up towards him. "She will make it. She's going to wake up, Clarke. Your mom is strong." Clarke's only answer is a sad smile that makes Bellamy's chest ache.
"You know, if you don't top rushing off into battles like this, your perfect body won't be so perfect." Her attempt at humor falls flat.