The next day was gloomy, grey and damp when Clarke awoke. Her eyes snapped open as a large raindrop smacked the roof of their makeshift tent; they would have to get on the move soon before they got soaked.
She rolled over onto her to side to wake Bellamy and paused for a moment to stare at his face, smooth and un-aged with sleep.
Last night was a dream, for the both of them, but morning held consequences and guilt. What they did was wrong and after everything Raven has done for the group, Clarke wasn't sure how she could ever face her.
She reached towards Bellamy's long tufts sticking out in different angles across his forehead,and pushed them back softly. His eyes slowly cracked open, blinking the sun away.
"Are we late?" he asked, his voice gravelly and dense.
"Right on time, actually." Clarke said. "It just started raining. We should go before it starts to pour."
Bellamy reached for Clarke's hand giving it a small squeeze, recognizing that last night did, in fact, happen and it was every bit of amazing as he thought it was.
Clarke, however, already had time to realize the wrong they had committed, and pulled her had away from Bellamy's, standing as she did.
"I'll start packing the rover while you get dressed. See you in ten?" she asked, trying to keep a poker face.
Bellamy looked at her with a look of understanding: last night would have to live only in the back of their minds and in the trees, in the soil, that surrounded them. At least for now, it could not live freely, openly, organically, because no matter how beautiful their love was, it was not without fault or damage or betrayal.
The day went by in a mechanical fashion. Bellamy and Clarke got into repetitive, mostly silent routine. Bellamy drove at first. Clarke rode on the back of the rover so she could hop on and off easily. She hung the marker and jumped back on. Then they switched. They only exchanged words when Raven checked in again or when it was time to eat and they were splitting the rations.
That night the fire crackled loudly against the damp wood as it tried to stay lit.
"The wood is too wet. We might need to find some buried leaves to keep this on all night…" Clarke suggested.
Bellamy had been staring into the dying flames for a while, unmoving, deep in thought. His voice startled her when he spoke.
"Can we talk about this…. about us?" he asked, gently but assertively.
Clarke nodded allowing him to continue.
"I get it, we messed up. We messed up and betrayed Raven, me more than anyone and I will tell her about this and I will have to live with it. She trusted me, she loved me, and I betrayed in the worst possible way." Bellamy admitted, quietly, his eyes facing the ground.
"And I loved her too. She was there for me in a time when I needed someone more than ever…" he paused, looking up at Clarke again.
"But I needed her, she was there, because I thought I lost you. My…. My heart had room for her because I thought I was never going to see you again, because you were gone forever and how else would I move on… but your alive and it's like my heart only has enough room for one of you." Bellamy stood abruptly, getting a little louder.
"And that was always you. Now that I know you're alive I can't help but feel the way I did six years ago, no matter how much I loved or cared for Raven. And that's so unfair, I know it is, I hate myself for even saying this but it's all true." Bellamy sat next to Clarke, placing his hand on hers.
"Clarke, it's always been you and I don't want to want to deny that or hide it, but I get it. I know we can't do this right now, but I just want you to know that I want to and I will do what needs to be done mend the damage we have done. I will wait and I hope you will too.
Clarke looked away from Bellamy as her eyes were welling up with tears. She knew this was wrong, but she felt an overwhelming mixture of guilt and surging happiness. Raven would be crushed, and they wouldn't be able to be together at first, out of respect, whatever was left, but they would be able to, eventually, and that is what she would hold onto.
"What are a few more days, or weeks, or months?" Clarke laughed, slightly. "It's already been 6 years."
Bellamy squeezed Clarke's hand slightly as the dying fire crackled and sparked against the forest floor, leaving charred bits of wood and cooled embers in it's wake.