A/N: Man, I really hope you will forgive my tardiness on this chapter! I work in education, so as you can imagine my life just got crazy hectic! Will you accept this longer offering as some compensation? Pretty please with next chapter's Bellarke lemons on top? :D
A/N2: You may not realize how amazing Marina Black1 is. She has been sick for DAYS but still fulfilled her beta duties! I am forever grateful! I hope all of you have taken a moment to check out her work, especially her Sara/Malcolm piece!
A/N3: In related news, I have now made four (mostly Bellarke) videos for The 100, with more in the works. There is a link to my YouTube channel on my profile, and I just hope you will all be as kind to my videos as you have been to my writing. And I've also joined Twitter! WHAT!
A/N4: I wish I could explain how much I love reading your reviews. I may like them more than my own story! And for those of you posting guest reviews, you are SO great and I'm sorry I don't have a way to reply to you directly. But know that I would if I could! *hugging all of you giddily*

Bellamy carried Clarke in his arms through the dark rainy woods, pushing away a dread he could not quite explain as he glanced down at her unnaturally slack features, barely visible now that the lanterns had faded to uselessness.

He felt certain the Mountain Men were not in pursuit this time; they had their own concerns at the moment. Monty and Raven should be proud of their work. Bellamy made a mental note to acknowledge what the brilliant couple had accomplished here tonight. And as for the wounded… Well, Jasper looked rough but Abby seemed optimistic about him. Bellamy had underestimated Jasper at so many turns; he needed the young man to survive this latest bout with danger. Bellamy needed to express his gratitude to Jasper for never giving up on any of them. That endless kindness was one of the greatest gifts to their small band of survivors.

Abby was much less confident about Big Ray's prognosis. The sheer number of bullets that had riddled his body would have killed a lesser man instantly, and she monitored him constantly as Kane, Wick, and Monty struggled under the nomad's weight. Bellamy knew they needed to stop soon, or they would almost certainly lose him. Just a few more minutes of travel, then, enough to put a bit more distance between them and the mountain.

…And then there was Clarke. Thinking her name filled his heart with a fresh wave of uncertainty. Had he done the right thing? He was sure he had, because the thought of letting her commit a crime of revenge sent a shiver through him. She would have ceased to be Clarke, at least in the way he knew her, the Clarke with morals so unshakeable she had become his North Star. But would she see it that way? He felt her shift slightly against his chest and tightened his hold. Without slowing his pace he brushed his mouth across hers, a part of him guilty for taking advantage of the moment, another part not giving a damn. Her tender lips warmed him and there was a rough tightening in his chest, as he wondered if he had damaged her trust in him so irreparably that he might never again feel her kiss him back.

Abby stopped the group, adamant in a way Bellamy recognized from previous experience with Clarke. The doctor stared Kane down, insisting they find somewhere for her to minister to Jasper and Big Ray.

"If we keep going, it won't matter how far we've run, we'll be guaranteeing their deaths," she announced through gritted teeth, staring up at Kane with an intensity the former councilor found dangerously attractive.

"Fine. But not here," he pointed out, looking around them at the disturbing openness of this part of the forest. They would be too vulnerable here.

"There's a river at the bottom of that slope," Monty piped up, realizing they were near the home of the giant snake that had attacked Octavia. "I wouldn't recommend it for bathing, but there are places along the shoreline where we can find shelter." Kane tilted his head thoughtfully, but Abby was already moving in the direction Monty had pointed.

The large boulders and slabs of limestone at the water's edge had lost their battle against the river eons ago; the area was littered with shallow caves and secluded crevices. Abby busied herself setting up a makeshift clinic with the supplies Bellamy had plundered from the Mountain Men, Raven and Harper took Wick hunting, and Kane organized the rest of their group, assigning tasks as he could to the women and older children. He frowned as the realization finally hit him that they had lost people in the breakout. The young farm tech named Liam would not be returning to his wife; he had gone over the railing during their fight for freedom. And Sofie... Kane heaved a deep sigh. Sofie. Such a talented guard, and truly a loss they would feel in the months and years to come.

Unfortunately, this was not the time for grief. That was a luxury for another day, and right now it was the survivors who mattered. Once everyone was settled Kane looked around for Bellamy and Clarke. He had quite a bit to discuss with those two.

It had taken time, but Lincoln and Anya were finally able to speak to each other civilly. Anya actually found the spacemen easier to understand than her own former soldier. The spacemen had simply been fighting for their right to own a part of the forest. She had fought back, but not for personal reasons. Lincoln though… Lincoln was just a traitor. It was different. That young Octavia woman was at fault there. Anya watched the two of them together and knew. He could act high and mighty, and talk about the moral ambiguity of fighting frightened teenagers, but Anya knew the truth about Lincoln's obsession with the girl.

Ironic, then, that Octavia was the one who brought about the reconciliation between Lincoln and his former commander. The dark-haired beauty was just such a persistently welcoming person. Nothing stopped her. Anya initially found her constant onslaught of affection infuriating, but as the days passed she realized Octavia truly wanted friendship. And when Anya learned of the girl's natural talent with a sword, there had been a subtle but valuable shift in their relationship. In the past few days Anya had taken to working with Octavia out in the sand dunes at sunrise, helping her master certain skills that might not occur to Lincoln. A man's center of balance was so different from a woman's; stances that worked for tall, broad Lincoln looked silly when emulated by petite, slender Octavia.

And Michael adored Lincoln, which did not help matters. The two men had nothing in common – one a naturally quiet and thoughtful leader, the other a decidedly lone-wolf warrior – and yet they actively sought out each other's company.

Anya, lying now in the soft warm bed as the midnight surf crashed just outside her window, shook her head and reached over to check on the little girl sleeping on the small cot nearby. In the darkness, Lydia was mostly just a sound: a slightly raspy exhale that was not quite a snore but more than just a breath. Anya smiled at the noise and rolled back to curl herself around Michael's sleeping form.

Lydia had latched onto Irene and Octavia from the beginning, and Monroe was almost always with them, as well. Anya worried a little about the influence of the space girls on Michael's impressionable daughter, but reassured herself with the knowledge that Irene would certainly inform someone if she felt Lydia were being corrupted in some way.

Irene. She was truly unique. There was something ethereal and quite nearly magical about Luna's daughter, and Anya had noticed the way Michael's shoulders tensed each time Finn found an excuse to be near the girl. Anya was not necessarily interested in the love affairs of these children, but the affect they had on Michael was most certainly of concern to her. She stroked his bare shoulder as she thought about how she could make it better for him, but sleep stole upon her before she had a chance to arrive at any possible solutions.

She was dreaming of past victories and defeats by the time Michael, drawn out of slumber by an uneasiness that had hung over him for several days, stole softly away in the hopes of clearing his mind with a walk along the beach.

Miller was sulking as he wandered the shoreline. He wanted to pretend that was not quite the appropriate word, but really - what else could he say to explain how his mouth kept sliding down, how his arms remained stubbornly crossed, how his thoughts drifted so persistently back to Monroe? Why? He should be stronger than that. She was just a girl. But... he worried about her, her reactions to the things they'd been through. Bellamy always insisted on assigning her to gunner positions, or taking her out on crazy missions like that search for Octavia a few months back. Monroe should not be sent on those kind of missions, and Miller had pointed out the stupidity of the move to Bellamy. He had regretted his angry outburst immediately, trying to clarify that he was not actually calling Bellamy stupid; the busy leader had shut him up with a brusque declaration that Miller's love life was not Bellamy's concern, that they had no time or room for chivalry, and that Monroe was more than capable of taking care of herself. Miller's shocked protests against the accusation of affection fell on deaf ears… and eventually Miller had to admit Bellamy was right. The first time he impulsively grabbed her hand, Monroe flinched and Miller dropped it as if it were covered in spiders. But then she gave him that little smile of hers, the half-curious, half-knowing smile, and it was all over. Fuck Bellamy. He would protect Monroe.

Because she was worth protecting.

And now she was spending all her time with Irene and Octavia? Where was the loyalty? Even Lydia was always hanging out with them. They were like some weird all-girl wolf-pack. He could feel their eyes sometimes, following him, and it always made him slightly nervous. He kicked at a pebble and looked up to realize he had made it to the stone jetty north of the colony. Nice views out there, he thought. And peaceful. Miller stepped up onto the wall.

He did not notice the figure ahead of him until they were both standing at the edge, staring out into the vast endlessness of purple sky and black ocean.

"Finn?"

"Hey, Miller. What are you doing out here?" Finn could feel his body tensing in anticipation of conflict.

"Just… needed some air." Miller was trying to think of ways to get out of the conversation.

"Why?"

"...Monroe." That should have been enough for Finn to drop it, but he did not.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," he said. Miller snorted.

"Really, Finn? You seem to be doing okay." His voice was challenging.

"What do you mean?" Finn was confused by Miller's obvious irritation. He was often confused by Miller.

"Uh, Irene?" Miller shot back.

"I don't know what you're talking about." As soon as he said it Finn knew he sounded ridiculous.

"What! Do you know what an asshole you sound like when you say stuff like that? Monroe has barely had five minutes for me since we got here. And you? Fuck you, Finn. First Raven, then Clarke, now Irene. Do you even know how to be alone?"

Finn wanted to shove Miller into the water. Let the ocean suck him away from here. But his body betrayed him; his face collapsed and he sank down onto a large boulder.

"No," he whispered instead. "I don't." The admission caught Miller off-guard and he stared at the slumped shoulders of the dark shape beside him.

"What?"

"Miller… I've never been alone. Raven and I were kids together, and it just kind of grew from there. She's never not been with me. When I thought I had lost her… I… I panicked. And Clarke, I mean, who wouldn't fall for Clarke?" Miller wrinkled his nose at the prospect. Clarke was definitely not his type.

"Yeah but Finn, that's fucked up."

A gentle laugh from behind them cut through the darkness and the two men looked back quickly. Michael was standing there, had been standing there for quite some time as he listened to the conversation.

"Miller is wise, Finn. You would do well to listen," Michael offered with a smile as he joined them at the water's edge. "If you do not even know who you are when you are alone, how can you possibly think you deserve someone like Irene?"

Finn rolled his eyes and huffed lightly. It still pained him to admit Michael's advice so far had been helpful; there was certainly no way he would add Miller into their little therapy sessions.

"Thank you both for your help, but I think I can take care of myself," Finn said as politely as he could. Miller, emboldened by Michael's surprising vote of confidence, pressed the point.

"We're not talking about you, Finn. We're talking about Irene. Could you take care of her? Seriously... Would you take care of her as well as you took care of Raven? Or Clarke?"

Finn stood up. There was no way Miller knew, was there? About Finn's declaration of love, about Clarke's admission that he had hurt her in the worst possible way? About Raven's assertion that she wanted to be loved more than Finn could offer?

"Guys. I get it."

"Maybe you do, maybe not," Michael equivocated. "Although I suspect the latter at this point. Finn, please hear me on this: Irene is special. And she is too good for you. You do not deserve her, not yet. I actually believe you may one day be deserving of Irene's love, but until then, I refuse to let you hurt her."

"Go float yourselves, both of you," Finn muttered as he pushed past the older man and headed back toward the beach.

"You may have been a little hard on him," Miller offered after a thoughtful moment.

"You were definitely a little hard on him," Michael pointed out mildly.

"Yeah, but he already doesn't like me," Miller retorted, "So I've got nothing to lose."

"Hm." The very noncommittal answer from Michael set Miller's teeth slightly on edge. Now that Finn was gone, there were no other targets for Michael to focus that laser attention of his.

"Well... Good night," Miller tossed out quickly, nearly breaking into a run as he followed the rocky wall back to land. Michael watched him leave and smiled to himself. There was no doubt; with a little time, and just the right amount of pressure, Miller would eventually make a very capable leader. Not a Bellamy, perhaps, but men like Bellamy were more rare than the others seemed to realize. Still, any community would do well to have someone like Miller looking after everyone.

Michael sat on the boulder so recently vacated by Finn and stared out to sea, watching as a slight grey shadow moved along the horizon, consuming stars as it grew. A heavy storm would be making landfall before sunrise.

Bellamy huddled in a small cave a short distance from the others, waiting, watching as Clarke began to come around. Kane arrived just in time to see the young man's face contort in pain when the girl let out a low moan, and paused in the doorway. He could not bring himself to interrupt Blake and the Griffin girl. Any possible doubt about the nature of their relationship had disappeared. As he watched, Kane felt Abby sidle up beside him.

"Do you need to check on her?" Kane whispered. He hoped Abby would say no. She shook her head.

"Bellamy showed me the syringe he used," Abby replied with a quick grimace. "I can't say I'm thrilled that he anesthetized my daughter, but his theory was right – the dose was low, set for pregnant women. Clarke will be fine. She'll be pissed off, but she'll be fine." Her normally raspy voice was even rougher than usual, and it struck Kane that the events of the evening had been truly exhausting.

"You should sleep." He did not look at her as he said it, instead keeping his face trained on Clarke. She sat up slowly, Bellamy guiding her, his every movement telegraphing such concern that Kane almost stepped forward to offer comfort to the hurting man. He was glad he had not moved, though, when Abby leaned heavily against his shoulder. Kane forced back a smile, wrapping one arm protectively around Abby's waist as she allowed herself to relax into him.

Together, they watched Clarke's transition carefully, ready if necessary to intervene on behalf of Bellamy. Both adults were confident his actions had saved her life tonight, but neither was sure she would see it that way.

"Clarke," Bellamy began, and in the grey mist shrouding her mind his voice was uncertain. It sounded like the night they saved each other from Dax. The night Bellamy had first killed for her. But she could not find Dax anywhere. Had Bellamy buried him? Had he survived, and run away? She tried to remember where she was, what happened, why he looked so terrified… it was all a jumble. Her memories made no sense... Dax had been in the woods, not in a bright white hall... He had a rifle, not an EMP…

"There were… guards. And children, right?" She put her hand out and watched in fascination as her fingers moved just slightly slower than her thoughts. Bellamy wrapped his own strong hand around hers, and at his touch a little shiver of desire raced up her spine, coloring her cheeks.

"Bellamy," she whispered, smiling happily at his perfect mouth, his dimpled chin. She ached to tell him how beautiful he was, to tell him that she wanted to touch him, feel the pressure of his hot skin under her fingers.

"Bellamy, I'm thirsty," she panted instead.

Abby had warned him she would be. Bellamy handed Clarke a drink silently.

As the cool water slowly revived her, Clarke's eyes lost their dull unfocused haziness.

She stared at Bellamy over the rim of the makeshift cup, and he could almost see the moment the memories clicked back into place. Clarke set the cup aside with exaggerated care, still feeling slightly disconnected from her body, and narrowed her eyes at him.

"What did you do?" she whispered.

"Clarke. I had to stop you," Bellamy whispered back. He was so raw, grief and fear wrapped in a tight bundle of exhaustion, but Clarke expected more, expected remorse. She found none. He did not seem the least bit guilty.

"What did you do?" she asked again, her words an icy knife held to his throat.

"I drugged you," Bellamy admitted, and finally there was a brief flicker of shame.

"I…" Clarke stared at him. The silence between them was colder than the gusty wind blowing outside, and Bellamy could not take it.

"Clarke…" he reached for her but she flinched back. Her blue eyes warned him against trying again.

"I need some air," she managed, stumbling upright and fending off his feeble attempts to assist her.

Abby glanced at Kane as Clarke charged past them both, turning to follow her daughter outside.

"Clarke, honey," Abby called softly. When she caught up, Clarke was sitting at the edge of the river, refusing to look at her mother.

"Clarke." Abby sat down beside her and wrapped one arm comfortingly around the younger Griffin's shoulders.

It was the permission Clarke needed. She turned her face into her mother's neck and broke down, sobbing as her tenuously-constructed-but-temporarily-perfect world fell apart around her. She had built everything on Bellamy. She had trusted him, she had been so certain he would help her and instead he had betrayed her. She could not find language strong enough to articulate her devastation.

"He loves you," Abby murmured into Clarke's hair as her daughter wept. "He loves you, Clarke." She repeated the words until they became a mantra, and rubbed her daughter's back soothingly, waiting for the waves of emotion to pass.

"You care for her," Kane noted quietly as he sat down on the cave floor beside the tortured man who reminded him so much of himself. Bellamy had curled forward, his head in his hands. He was struggling with demons. Kane knew that feeling all too well.

"Blake, you saved the woman you love," Kane assured him. "There's no shame in that."

"Stop!" Bellamy groaned. "I lost her. She'll never trust me again."

"Oh, I doubt that," Kane whispered. "She obviously loves you too. Give her time."

Bellamy laughed but it was flat, devoid of real emotion.

"How do you know?" he asked wryly. "Drug a lot of girlfriends, do you?"

Kane shook his head.

"No, shockingly, never that." Kane thought of his checkered career on the Ark. "But I've done worse things, with perhaps less justification," he offered. As he spoke, Kane stared out the cave's entrance at the silhouettes of the Griffin women, huddled together on the riverbank. "And despite all of it, I think… I hope… I may be redeemable. At least in her eyes."

Bellamy was momentarily distracted from his own worries, his brow furrowed as he tried to grasp what Kane was telling him. It was when Kane forced himself to look away – almost as if turning away from Abby Griffin were physically painful – that Bellamy's eyes widened in comprehension. He knew that feeling all too well.

"You're smart Blake, but you're very young. You have so much life ahead of you. So many mistakes you still have to make," Kane began as a melancholy fog settled around them. "But this? …No, this is not a catastrophe. Can you love her enough for both of you, enough to get you both through this and out the other side? If so, then this is just a setback. It won't be easy, but hell – it'll probably build character," he offered. Kane's words burned a bright line of hope through the darkness within Bellamy.

Could he love her enough for both of them?

He already did.

And Clarke would eventually see reason. That was part of her beauty, her ability to cut through the bullshit and find the right path. In the shadowy insecurity of this cave, his passion and her clarity of mind were the two things Bellamy Blake knew with certainty they could rely on to help them survive this world.

Wick sat vigil at Big Ray's side as the giant nomad slipped in and out of consciousness. He did not bother hiding his tears from the others in the cave; Raven, Monty, and Harper were too busy processing their own emotions to notice him, anyway. Jasper's injury had been the result of a clean shot as they fled up the stairs, the bullet entering and exiting with little trauma. Abby had stabilized him, and now it was a matter of letting him rest and giving him time to regain his strength. Harper understood all of that, but it did not help her feel any better watching Jasper sleep fitfully on the cold cave floor. He looked so weak and vulnerable, which was not the Jasper she knew. Monty had taken over as nurse for his best friend, finding excuses to keep busy. That left Raven to monitor Harper; she watched the young girl carefully. Harper was tougher than a lot of people had given her credit for. That didn't mean she would enjoy watching Jasper suffer like this.

"Hey, why don't you and I go get some water," Raven offered gently. Harper nodded silently and kept herself together until they were outside the cave entrance. Then she broke down, crying not just for Jasper but for Sofie and Big Ray and the children and all the other horrors they had seen tonight. Raven patted her gently on the back and waited for Harper to calm down before speaking again.

"Harper, Jasper will be fine."

"I know that," Harper admitted as she wiped her eyes. "But honestly? I think this is the first time I kind of miss life on the Ark. At least up there, I wasn't always worried about someone dying." Raven bit back a derisive snort. Obviously Harper had a different understanding of life on the Ark than Raven did.

"I think you're looking at this the wrong way," she answered. "Sure, life here is more challenging - but it's also so damn beautiful. Would you and Jasper have met, if we were still on the Ark? Would you and I be friends?"

"Hey." Clark's quiet voice cut into their conversation. "How is everybody in there?" Raven turned around, chewing on her lip as she took in her friend's tear-stained face.

"Well, we made it out, but Jasper and Big Ray were shot by the Mountain Men. Your mom says Jasper's going to be okay," Raven added, both for Clark's benefit and Harper's. "She… says a lot less about Big Ray." It actually hurt Raven to express the thought out loud. She hadn't taken the time to think about it, focused as she had been on Monty's concern for Jasper. But now that it was sinking in, Raven started to choke up.

Clarke, her eyes still red and hot from before, felt the weight of Raven's words but could only heave a ragged, dry sob as she turned and rushed for the cave. She had to see Big Ray. He had to live, because she very selfishly needed him to. She was not sure how much more loss she could take tonight.