"Bellamy!"
He groaned. It was early morning, he'd just laid down after digging Well's grave. Whoever it was could wait. "Bellamy Blake!" Except her.
"Clarke?" He rushed out of his tent, spotting her angry blonde head making its way into camp. "Whatever it was, I didn't do it."
She rolled her eyes, but the comment at least made her stop marching. "I want my wristband off."
Bellamy frowned. Yeah, he'd wanted her wristband off too, but that was before he learned that the Ark needed to know they were alive down here or else everyone would die up there. "Clarke, I know you're upset, but-"
"Wells didn't give up my dad. My mother did." It took a moment for Bellamy to catch up with the change in conversation. When he did, he still shook his head.
"Making your mom think you're dead won't help matters, Princess." She huffed, and made to push past him, but he stepped in front of her, hands on her shoulders. "Clarke, think about Wells-"
"Don't-"
"No, you don't. Wells wouldn't want you to do this. He fought me on the wristbands more than you did. Just think and breathe."
She glared at him, till a thought dawned on her. "Monty," she whispered, the thought forming into a plan. "Monty can take my wristband off and use it to reverse the contact with the Ark!" She bolted from under his arm and headed into the Dropship.
Contact with the Ark. Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck. That's not good.
"It was one of us." Bellamy looked down as Clarke spoke, confirming that he had thought so too, from the beginning. Now, they had evidence.
Jasper and Octavia were shocked at the revelation, but Bellamy spoke up. "There's more than one murderer in this camp." He pointed out. "This isn't news. We need to keep it quiet."
Clarke fiddled with the knife, not sure how she wanted to proceed, until she spotted markings on the inside. J.M.
Hate flushed her system, and she moved to exit the tent, but Bellamy stepped in front of her. "Get out of my way, Bellamy."
"Be smart about this, Princess. Look at what we've achieved, the wall, the patrols," replied Bellamy, gesturing outside the tent, where actual work was getting done for the first time since landing. "Going out there now will only bring back the chaos. Besides, what are you gonna do, just walk outside and ask the killer to step forward? You don't even know whose knife that is."
Clarke held up the knife. "J.M. John Murphy." Bellamy took a step back, surprised. "The people have a right to know." Clarke found Murphy about to get in a fight. She pushed past the crowd and shoved Murphy. "Bastard!"
He stumbled to the ground, but got up angrier. "What the fuck?"
"Recognize this?" She lifted up the knife, the instant recognition only enraged her more.
"It's my knife. Where'd you find it?"
"Where you dropped it after you killed Wells."
"Where I what?" Murphy scoffed. "The Grounders killed Wells, not me."
"I know what you did, and you're gonna pay for it," Clarke threatened.
"Really?" Murphy scoffed and looked over her shoulder. "Bellamy, you really believe this crap?
"You threatened to kill him," interjected Clarke. "We all heard you. You hated Wells."
"Plenty of people hated Wells. His father locked us up."
"Yeah, but you're the only one who got in a knife fight with him."
"Yeah, I didn't kill him then, either."
"Tried to kill Jasper," piped up Octavia from behind Bellamy.
This reminder from Bellamy's sister caused a ripple to go through the assembled crowd, many of whom Murphy had been bullying. "Come on. This is ridiculous," argued Murphy, feeling the shift too. "I don't have to answer to you. I don't have to answer to anyone!" Murphy shouted at the crowd.
But then-
"Come again?"
Clarke and Murphy turned to see Bellamy, arms crossed, watching. He didn't approve of what Clarke was doing, but she knew he wouldn't let Murphy undermine his power. And he certainly wasn't going to stop Clarke from getting justice for Wells.
Murphy's confidence dropped. He became just one of Bellamy's followers, walking up to the leader in supplication. "Bellamy, look, I'm telling you, man. I didn't do this."
"They found his fingers on the ground with your knife," Bellamy spoke low.
"Is this the kind of society that we want?" Clarke asked the crowd that moved in closer. "You say there should be no rules. Does that mean that we can kill each other without punishment?"
"I already told you. I didn't kill anyone," Murphy repeated, angrily turning back to Clarke. But the crowd was in her favor for once.
"I say we float him."
"Yeah!" a chorus came up.
Murphy, Octavia, Clarke, and Bellamy's faces paled as the crowd transitioned into a mob with one sentence. "That's not what I'm saying," Clarke backtracked.
"Why not? He deserves to float. It's justice."
"Revenge isn't justice," Clarke pushed the approaching boy back, but the mob stepped closer.
"It's justice. Float him!
The chant got picked up. Clarke turned and met Bellamy's eye over Murphy's frozen form. Bellamy was too far away to calm everyone down. Murphy tried to make a run for it as the crowd surged in, nearly reaching Clarke before people started grabbing at the both of them.
"No!" Clarke shouted. Everyone was pushing, kicking, grabbing, and attacking Murphy, at the same time trying to pull Clarke away while she fought them off. "Get off him!" Murphy got taken to the ground with a kick, but his arm shot out and grabbed Clarke, pulling her down with him. "No!"
"Clarke!"
BANG!
Hands, feet and limbs let go of Murphy and Clarke, the crowd turning to Bellamy, whose gun was raised up to the sky.
"Anyone touches her again, the gun gets aimed closer to the ground," threatened Bellamy, bringing the gun back down and stepping forward, offering his hand to pull Clarke back to her feet. "Alright, Princess?"
"Bellamy, that's it." A guy grabbed Murphy and had three others restrain him between them, a rope gagged around his mouth. "Float him."
Bellamy stared at the boys, at Murphy's bloody, gagged face. Around them, the chant started up and the crowd pushed in again. Murphy struggled against his captors, but couldn't fight them off.
"Bellamy-" Clarke placed a hand on his arm. The gun hung between them.
"Bellamy! Bellamy!" They renewed the chant, until through the crowd Charlotte and Finn appeared.
"No!" Charlotte yelled with her tiny voice. "No, stop! It was me! It was me!"
Bellamy ran as fast as he could with the thrashing girl over his shoulder. "Murphy!" Charlotte kept shouting, "I'm over here!" Each kick of her foot, each yell she made for her attacker, added to his list of grievances against the Ark Council.
"Charlotte!" Murphy's group were getting closer and Bellamy had to skid to a stop as he reached a cliff.
"Damn it."
"Bellamy." Murphy and his group stepped out of the tree line, some holding torches, some holding weapons. Bellamy pushed Charlotte behind him and took out his knife. "You can't fight all of us. Give her up."
"Maybe not, but I guarantee I'll take a few of you down with me." Bellamy made to lunge forward, till he saw a blonde head running towards them.
"Bellamy!" She shouted, seeing him and Charlotte with their backs to a cliff, surrounded. "Stop," she turned to Murphy. "This has gone too far. Just calm down. We'll talk about this."
Murphy looked at Clarke as she spoke, but by the end of it, he was watching Bellamy. Bellamy watched him back, bouncing on his feet in preparation to fight. But with Clarke standing between them, Murphy knew Bellamy wasn't going to risk it.
Murphy smirked before he jerked forward and grabbed Clarke. He pulled her against him, spun her around and held his knife to her throat. Clarke stared at Bellamy, frightened.
"Let her go, Murphy." Bellamy spoke with a deadly calm. The gun he hadn't wanted to use was warm against his back.
"Not so tough now, are you, Bellamy?" mocked Murphy. He pressed the knife into Clarke's neck drawing blood.
"No, please! Please don't hurt her," cried Charlotte. Bellamy held a hand out to keep the little girl from walking forward.
"Don't hurt her? Okay, I'll make you a deal. You come with me right now, I will let her go."
"Don't do it, Charlotte!" Clarke managed to get out, the movement causing more blood to drop down her neck.
Charlotte stepped forward, but Bellamy caught her and picked her up. She thrashed in his arms again, and this close to the edge, he had to set her down to keep his balance. "I have to!"
"Murphy, this is not happening. Let Clarke go and we'll figure something out."
"The Princess stays with me till the King gives the brat up."
Clarke didn't take her eyes off Charlotte, silently begging the little girl to stay put. Bellamy tore his eyes from her for a moment, to reach for Charlotte, but she stepped out of his grip and closer to the edge.
"I can't let any of you get hurt anymore. Not because of me. Not after what I did." Bellamy shook his head, reaching to grab her.
But she turned and jumped.
"No!" "Charlotte!"
In his shock, Murphy released Clarke and she rushed to the edge, her and Bellamy watching as the little girl fell, losing her in the fog of the night but hearing her landing.
"No, no, no," moaned Clarke, falling to her knees at the edge. Bellamy caught her the best he could with his shaking hands. "Bellamy." She whimpered. He heard the tears in her voice, but all he saw was the blood on her clothes. His shaking spread. He turned to the rest of the group, slowly standing up and lifting his hand off Clarke's back. His eyes trained on Murphy and his bloody knife.
"Bellamy." Murphy stepped back in fear.
Clarke looked up just as Bellamy launched himself at Murphy. "Bellamy!" He tackled Murphy to the floor. "You'll kill him!" The teenager had been locked away for a year, letting his muscles atrophy. A couple weeks on Earth had nothing on Bellamy's guard training. "Bellamy, stop!"
Clarke tugged and pulled on Bellamy. He let her pull him away, marching a few steps to the edge of the cliff and back. "He deserves to die!" Bellamy yelled at Clarke.
"No!" Her voice cracked. "We don't decide who lives and dies. Not down here."
Bellamy shook his head and took a step up to her, lowering his voice but not his anger, "So help me, Clarke, if you say the people have a right to decide- "
"No, you were right before. Sometimes it's dangerous to tell people the truth. But if we're gonna survive down here, we can't just live by whatever the hell we want. We need rules."
"And who makes those rules, huh?" asked Bellamy, out of breath and out of his mind. He was done leading, done with handling these situations.
"For now, we make the rules. Okay? You and me."
"You and me." Bellamy repeated, gulping in a breath.
Murphy made a noise of pain on the ground. Bellamy's temper spiked again but he stared at Clarke's bleeding neck and asked, "What about Murphy?"
She paused, hand rising to her neck, eyes falling to the cliff. "We give him supplies and we banish him." Bellamy marched to Murphy and lugged him off the ground, non-too gently. "Bellamy," warned Clarke.
Bellamy took Murphy and held the boy out over the edge. "If I ever catch you near camp, we'll be back here. Understand?"
Murphy managed a nod and a scowl. Bellamy snarled at him, but turned and pushed him back to the ground. He looked up at the assembled group, the mob of four that had chased him and Charlotte to this damned cliff.
"As for the four of you, you can come back and follow Clarke and I, or go off with him to die. Your choice." He didn't wait for their response. Bellamy turned and grabbed Clarke's arm, dragging her back to camp so Octavia could look at her neck.