They were on Luna's rig. There were unfamiliar sounds and people, machinery and smells.
But Clarke had trained herself to sleep hard under any conditions. To only register threats or the sound of an enemy approaching.
And apparently, any movement of Bellamy Fucking Blake.
She didn't know why she was so paranoid. Especially here, where things were so seemingly peaceful.
Yet every rustle, every shifting shoulder, every shortened breath slapped her back to reality, and it jolted her heart.
She was terrified she'd wake up, and he'd be gone. Torn from her life like all the others.
She wouldn't be able to handle that.
She figured she would just have to have some kind of body contact to assure her subconscious that he wasn't going anywhere. And Bellamy…well, he'd just have to deal with it.
They were already sleeping next to one another on the floor of the common room, Octavia on Bellamy's other side.
It made the process of scooting her back against his an easy feat.
The spot of contact was warm and reassuring, and she was finally able to close her eyes and drift away.
That is, until, Bellamy tensed, sitting bolt upright.
He took notice of Clarke lying there beside him, rubbing her eyes, and swore quietly.
"Sorry."
He didn't ask why she was hijacking his blanket. She appreciated the sentiment.
"You've been kind of restless tonight. Are you okay?" she whispered.
"Reoccurring nightmare."
She nodded. She understood that plenty.
She patted the blanket, and he chuckled softly and rested his head beside hers. She didn't move away, so their shoulders brushed. So some kind of contact remained to keep her steady.
"Tell me about it?" she offered. They usually didn't pry, respected one another's fears and insecurities, though they recognized them easily. But she was curious what was eating at him. Curious if she could help.
Bellamy didn't say anything, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth that radiated from his body.
"Mount Weather."
His whisper sent shivers down her spine.
"Bellamy…" she sighed.
"Not that part," he cut her off, reading her mind. "Before you got there. When they took me."
"You never told me what they did to you," she murmured, heart beating painfully. What I did to you.
She'd sent him in there so blindly, trusting Lexa over her own judgement. Again.
"You don't want to know," he answered, and it ripped her chest open.
"What did I put you through? Tell me."
He smirked. "You didn't do anything. I volunteered."
"Bellamy."
She poured enough emotion into his name, enough guilt and heartache that he finally looked at her with those dark brown eyes.
"Talk to me," she pleaded.
So he did.
He told her about the chemicals that burned his skin raw. The chains and the needles. How he was forced into a cage, then hung upside down to be drained of blood. He told her of Echo and Lovejoy, of Maya and Vincent and the others willing to help him.
When he finished, Clarke had tears in her eyes.
"Shit, Clarke. Don't cry."
She wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"After you left, I thought that the last thing I said to you would be, 'it's worth the risk'. Then when I heard your voice over that radio, I'd never been so happy…" she trailed off, closing her eyes.
He nudged her. "But you were right. One life was worth sacrificing to get all our friends out alive." The tears trickled out and over her cheeks, and he sighed. "We always have to make the hard decisions, Clarke. That's what we do. But that wasn't your choice. It was ours. Okay?"
She hesitated. "Okay."
He smiled.
"But Bellamy?"
She gazed at him, waiting for his eyes to greet hers.
"Nothing is worth that risk."
I figured I'd continue this when I had the time over the hiatus. Hope some of you are still interested!