11.
Clarke sat with her back against the arm rest of the couch. Her knees perched up, with her sketchbook balancing against them, and a pencil rolling between her forefinger and thumb. She hadn't touched that black hardcover book since grabbing the note Raven left on top of it.
In the three days that followed the attack on the wall, that Skicru was framed for conducting, the air shifted in such a way that it was as if all the light was snuffed out of the world. The clouds, dark and grim, covered the sky and it rained constantly, day and night. It was like the earth knew what was coming, and how fast it would get here.
To herself, Clarke would recall everything that has happened to her since coming to the Dropship. Since she said goodbye to what she always thought of as home and ran away. Life was truly funny that way, leaving one place only to find another where she feels like she belongs even less than she ever did.
After she had patched up Bryan, the people in the room quickly filtered out. One by one they came up with excuses, with reasons such as returning to make more gun powder, Jasper, fixing the rovers, Raven, refusing to admit their pining love and needing an excuse to leave so pretending to go 'talk', Harper and Monty.
No one said anything about what would come next. They all knew, of course.
What would happen next would include trying to convince everyone that Arkadia was behind the attack, most importantly trying to convince the Grounders. Then preparing for war. Clarke kept her head down the entire walk to her room that afternoon. She slept until midnight then found her way to the med room where she toyed around with the supplies. Counting, recounting, organizing, reorganizing the items until she ran out of things to count and organize. A thought hit her then.
She came to the Dropship to work with Bellamy Blake. Not directly, but close enough to be able to keep peace between Arkadia and the Grounders. She had truly believed that Arkadia was holding back, that they were focused on hiding the fact that there were others behind the wall. With that, there was hope. There was room for negotiation. Now, well now one side attacked, one side lied and dropped explosives without a second glance. Clarke's heart cried out for the innocent Grounder children that were playing a little too closely to the wall, to the people at the market place who probably lost their merchandise, their way of living because of the horrific earthquakes that followed.
There was going to be a battle between two groups of people so misunderstood, so obsessed with all the wrong things.
Clarke wanted to carry on her father's dream of human beings living and breathing and choosing their lifestyle. The boundaries, the restrictions Chancellor Jaha enforced, although he didn't write the laws, were to help the human race survive. Those rules may have been necessary fifty years ago when they were needed to buy the ground time to rebuild and regain its power but not anymore. The earth can carry itself now, the citizens, not just of Arkadia, but of this world, don't need to be chipped, watched, and governed with no sense of self identity or control.
I failed, I failed, Clarke thought helplessly, I might as well just leave now. She was seriously considering it. She failed. She had no reason to be there anymore. What would she do by staying? Witness all the people she was starting to know, despite her efforts to keep her distance, die in front of her. Or worse, on her operating table. She was seconds away from packing a bag, running away, but that would be giving in to what she always does. She ran away when they sentenced her father to death, she ran away when the council members decided to lie about the Grounders, and running away now from Raven, and Octavia and all the people in Skicru would just prove to them how much of a coward she was, or how much of a fake she actually was.
Besides, Bellamy already thinks she's a traitor. To run away days after Jaha ruined everything would only add fuel to the fire.
The thoughts of escaping were tucked back, and she denied ever having them. She took to camping out in her room, leaving only to retrieve something she needed or to use the shared bathroom in the skybox. She even shut down medical, telling people that if they have a cold to stay in bed and if they have an injury that they can't wrap themselves, to come see her in her room.
Keeping the door open, she was able to hear the conversations happening outside in the hall without having to pry information out of anyone. She learned that Alpha and Beta Squad took to training indoors due to the rainy weather. They sparred, worked on hand combat, took to teaching Gamma Squad how to handle a gun, how to shoot and avoid getting shot at.
It turns out the Grounders refused to collaborate with Skicru, even after Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln trekked there, minutes after Chancellor Jaha finished up his bullshit speech on the screen. Lexa ignored their presence at first, but with a few persuasive words and the fact that Skicru had no part in what the council members did, she complied.
Grounders and guards were to work together, teach each other their skills and methods for battle. Raven and the gang in the engineering room had to work twice as hard since they were a couple members down who transferred to become guards along with anyone else who was of age and willing to fight.
She hadn't seen much of Octavia, running into her once when she was delivering a stack of notebooks to Raven in engineering on the third floor. Her giddy self was gone. Their conversation on her bed felt like it happened a lifetime ago. There was no mention of Lincoln, or any news on the twelve clans, or even talking back to her brother who refused to let her join Alpha Squad in training when she had asked. Raven mentioned all this when Clarke brought up how Octavia is slowly becoming non-existent. Ironic, considering.
All in all, the shift brought dreariness and the complete loss of hope.
It felt almost like a betrayal to sit there, on the pink plush couch, drawing. But what could Clarke do? She thought too much, trusted that her brain could lead her to all the answers simply because her heart had deceived her time and time again. Except now neither could help her. She was stuck in this conflict, this state of moral versus revenge.
"This is what you spend all your time doing?" an impassive face said with a teasing tone. She peered through her lashes up at him, standing, more like leaning against the door frame with those t-shirts he wears that know to hug all his muscles accurately, giving her a sight that should have been forbidden.
"Well, I was going to go plan a genocide today, but then I thought…no, Clarke, someone's already taking care of that," sarcasm dripped bitterly from her lips and he crossed his arms unamused.
"It's not a genocide, it's war, that they are willingly participating in,"
"Doesn't make it any better,"
"It isn't supposed to. It's bullets and fighting and death, Princess,"
"What the hell do you want, Bellamy?" she snapped her sketchbook shut and threw the pencil against the couch cushion. She raised her eyebrow when she saw the corners of his lips curve slightly, threatening to give her his infamous smirk.
"I'm going to be gone a while,"
"Good for you," she interrupted. She tore her gaze away from him and to his forearms pressed against his hard chest. The vein running along from inner to outer arm demonstrating how he's all muscle.
"I want you to come with me,"
Clarke stopped for a second. Tempted to throw the book still in her lap at his face, but she would risk him seeing what was inside, which can never happen. Instead she settled on something else, she parted her lips and a somber giggle swam around the room. She watched as it took him by surprised. A millisecond later, he regained composure as if nothing happened.
"Funny," she muttered. Standing tall, she walked to her bed and tucked the sketchbook under her pillow. Aware of his watchful eyes, she continued to move about, getting ready to return to the medical room.
"I'm serious,"
"I'm sure you are," she deadpanned, slipping on her boots. When he didn't say anything else, just stood there like a freaking male model in what she imagined would be a catalogue, not that Arkadia advertised clothing often seeing that only the rich would afford it.
"You're serious?" she repeated. He didn't nod yet she saw how serious he was with the way those eyes were looking at her intently, always looking at her that intently, "Why? Three days ago you accused me of sharing exclusive information with my mom and her council friends, you ignored me after you and Octavia took off running to Polis. Not to mention you look for any excuse to remind me that I'm not one of you and that I will never have your trust, so excuse me if I don't fucking believe that you would do me any favors or that you would think to finally let me in on what goes on in that stupid head of yours," panting wasn't the right word to describe what her chest was doing after she ended her rant. It was more like gulping down air. She was glad she got it all out, showed him what a dick he truly was. She was also taken over with brief terror when she realized she not only insulted him but basically told him to shove his offer up his ass.
"You through?"
"Not even close,"
"Well, it's a long drive. You can continue to yell at me then. Pack a bag for a few days," he turned to leave, just like that, without explaining where they were going or why they would be gone for more than a day or two.
"Why?" she didn't have to clarify her question. He knew what she meant, knew she was curious as to what he would possibly need with her presence on this trip of his.
"Because, right now, I don't want to be around anyone I actually like,"
Raven sat on the edge of Clarke's bed, a sly sneer suffocating her face.
"Stop looking at me like that," Clarke was busy hastily folding her clothes and shoving them into her backpack.
"Looking at you like what?"
"Like you know something that I don't," that earned a hard chuckle from Raven who just shrugged, not confirming or denying her suspicions.
Clarke walked past her to the other side of her bed, dropping to her knees, checking under the bed for her navy blue jacket. She huffed out in frustration coming up short.
Bellamy hadn't specified when they would be leaving but it had to be soon. Travelling at night at a time like this, where anything can happen and threats were all around, wasn't safe.
The infuriating man left the room with only a sentence that shook her entire being. They probably shouldn't be going away from the Dropship during this time, actually they should probably never go away together at any time for however long, seeing as they would most definitely rip each other to shreds, but, Clarke reasoned, it was either this or cramped up in her room wincing at any mention of Polis or Arkadia.
"Do you know where were going anyway?" Clarke asked standing up in defeat. As soon as she reached her full height something dark hit her smack in the middle of her face. Cool metal slid across her nose, she blinked once, twice, before realizing it was the jacket she was just searching for.
"Thanks," she mumbled failing to hide the pain in her face from such a strong throw.
"No I have no idea,"
Clarke wasn't convinced. Bellamy said drive, meaning that they would be taking the rover or some other form of transportation. Raven, the mechanic that she was, knew exactly where each rover was and how much fuel, power, and work needed to be done for the specific trips the vehicle would take. Clarke didn't press, either way she would find out eventually.
"I have a feeling I'm not just getting strung along for the hell of it. He needs something from me,"
"I think you're growing on him," the nonchalant tone Raven carried didn't disguise how genuinely she believed her statement. A warm blush threatened Clarke's cheeks to which she bit her lip forcing the heat to return far away from her face.
"The humour in this place is really spiking up, does war do that to you guys?"
"I'm sorry I thought you understood what had to happen, Clarke?" Raven's confusion rang.
"Yeah, I get that there needs to be a war. We can't avoid one if both sides are dead set in their fucked up ways about it, but," she paused briefly, "Raven you're honestly telling me that watching the people you all but grew up with the past two years walk into their death is okay with you?"
"Of course it's not okay. But what choice do we have? You said so yourself, both sides are dead set in their fucked up ways,"
"I just…" Clarke took a breath zipping up her pack.
"I know. It's hard to admit it, no one wants a war Clarke,"
"Bellamy does,"
"No he doesn't. Maybe this trip will show you that," there was an underlining promise in her words that Clarke wanted to ignore but couldn't. She hoped so, hoped that this trip with the eldest Blake would help her understand him better. Either that or Octavia will be only child like the rest of them.
"God, I hope you're right, Reyes,"
"Always am, Griffin,"
She reached out and pulled the brunette, who decided to let her hair out of its high ponytail today, in a tight hug. They whispered goodbyes in each other's ears, squeezing each other's shoulder a little more before pulling a part.
"Hey, if Wick happens to stop by while I'm gone, stay away from my bed," Clarke ducked as Raven threw another article of clothing her way. She laughed all the way up the stairs and to the third floor.
Her laughs froze when she ran into Finn, ramming into his shoulder only to spring back and lose her footing.
"Woah, you okay, Princess?" his easy grin didn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah, how are you holding up?" she always means to be polite when it comes to Finn. Not just to set the boundaries but because in a twisted way, he deserved it. He had been nothing but kind to her, and while he had his past with Raven it was just that. His past with Raven.
"Fine, I mean what else is there to do but accept it all, right?" he gave her a sheepish look and she returned it.
"Right," she agreed. They talked quietly for a few more minutes, debating what they thought would happen next with the Grounders, with Lexa and her clans, and even with their respective families who were still behind in Arkadia.
"So it must be true then?"
"What is?"
"That you shut down medical and locked yourself in your room?"
"I did shut down medical yeah, but the door is wide open to my room,"
She registered her words then and shook her head in embarrassment. Finn smirked widely and suggestively. She pushed his right shoulder back gently, fighting back a laugh.
"Shut up, I meant that I didn't lock myself up,"
"Yeah I got that," she shook her head again and figured now would be the best time to head out.
"Hey do you mind directing me to Bellamy's room?"
"Why?" Finn raised an eyebrow with a skeptical expression across his face.
"We're heading out somewhere," she said unsure of how to explain this since she really didn't know where they were going or why, "I'm supposed to meet with him but he never said where so I assumed it would be at his room,"
"Walk straight ahead and take a right," he gestured with his pointer finger, she began to head in that direction "and Clarke," he called after her, stopping her in place, "Be careful,"
She didn't respond. Just gave him a tight lip smile and walked ahead counting the steps as she took them.
Suddenly she found herself outside the door she was at a month and a half ago. Time flew by quick, yet with all their encounters, and all the shit they've dealt with since, she still had butterflies knocking in her stomach like it was the first time she entered these walls.
She knocked, only once, and the door opened wide.
"Yes?" a girl with dark hair pinned up and out of her beautiful face said with an edge.
"Uh, is Bellamy?" Clarke couldn't form a proper sentence, her gaze shifting over the girl's shoulder to see Bellamy standing at the edge of his bed, shirtless.
"Who are you?" the girl scowled sending her death glares.
"I'll be waiting outside," Clarke chanced another glance at him to find his eyes on her already, still without a shirt on.
He spoke crisp and clear, "Get out Roma. Tell Miller to continue with the plan discussed until I get back,"
The girl, Roma, rolled her eyes at Clarke. She held a familiarity that Clarke couldn't quite place, until she really looked at her, recognizing her as the silhouette that was in the background of Bellamy's room on that second night she was at the Dropship.
Roma brushed past her but not before giving Bellamy her best bedroom eyes and an unspoken assurance to continue what Clarke had clearly interrupted. Bellamy for his part remained as emotionless and stone cold as he always was.
"I can wait outside," Clarke clarified for him, turning on the spot.
"It's fine, come in. Shut the door," he ordered in his alpha male tone. She complied after internally debating with herself how bad of an idea this was.
Slowly, she walked closer into the room. It smelt of cigarette smoke, and mahogany wood, and Bellamy. The walls were bare. There was nothing but a bed in the middle of the room and a few cardboard boxes in a corner filled with what looked to be clothes and a few books. She carefully stepped closer until she was inches away from his bed, which she forced her blue eyes to look away from. A shine against the light sparkled and when she peered over, in between the sheets, at the object she found it to be a glossy book cover.
"The Odyssey?"
He was at the other side of the bed facing the window leading out to a balcony. Peaking over his clothed shoulder at her, having finally put on a shirt, he gave her his most confusing look yet. She couldn't decipher it, not completely anyway. It was a mix of wonder and something else, something that tickled the parts of her no one knew about.
"I was thinking we'd leave later in the day, when the rain stops but since you're here, might as well," he ignored her previous statement, picking up his own bag that was hidden in the corner by the boxes.
"Ah, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," she said lamely, referring to the leggy Roma with the horny hooded eyes.
"You didn't," his shirt stretched across his broad back emphasizing the outline of his scapula, emphasizing how his body was toned, all muscle and strength. She flicked her gaze back to the book calming her mind that ran without her approval.
"You said we were driving?" he merely nodded and walked ahead of her, guiding them downstairs.
Holding her breath, Clarke followed, with thoughts of how stupid this is, was and will no doubt, be.
An hour and a half later and they were on the road.
Jasper and Monty had met them in the garage. Standing in that cold room, Clarke was reminded of her first day there all over again. They spoke with Bellamy about the engine, the path to take and how they didn't have much time, for what, Clarke had no clue.
She bit her tongue, nodding along completely unaware of what they were saying but knowing that she will ultimately find out since she was going on this trip.
Bellamy left with specific orders for everyone he worked closely with. Miller was to take Bellamy's place for the time being. Harper was to overlook training. The tech group and Monty knew what to focus on in terms of spying on Arkadia. Jasper had his orders to continue warfare production. Octavia, was the only person he failed to address. He gave a deliberate nod to Monty who apparently understood it's meaning.
She hopped into the rover the second they were ready to go. She didn't miss the way Jasper hugged Bellamy before he left. Dragging a tiny grin from Clarke who sobered up when Bellamy came closer.
On the road, the sky above her was clearing up. Clouds decorated across the horizon, not as dark as they had previously been. The rover moved smoothly against the paved road until it ended, then moving a bit rougher against the dirt and green grass. They were taking a route that Clarke was nowhere near familiar with. She knew that the forest cut about five miles south of where they were going because that was where the train's final stop was. She knew that the farmhouse that burnt to the ground and the quiet lake near it were now so far behind them it that what happened there felt like a distant memory. Except that it wasn't. Clarke thought about Atom and what reminiscences he brought to the surface of her mind, often. There really was no escaping, even for a pro runaway like herself.
While she paid sever attention to their surroundings, working out where they were going, she was mostly hoping that the awkward tension that hung in the air around her and the brooding driver would phase out. Awkwardness between her and Bellamy was a foreign state of mind because every time they were in the same room together it was like throwing metaphorical daggers with an angry stiffness in the air. Now, with his hand in between them resting on the console and her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window, she felt relatively exposed. There was no heat, or fury or cruel words to cut her down a size or to throw back at him.
"You stare any harder at the glass, you'll break it," she parted her lips, heart hammering in her chest as she realized she basically was burning a hole with her blue eyes.
"Can I ask you something?" she spoke out instead of acknowledging his weak attempt at diffusing the weird space between them.
"You're going to ask either way," he huffed, eyes fixed ahead of him.
"Why did you easily let, practically all of Skicru, escape to the bunker? You were so set in keeping everyone inside, locking the door and shoving the idea that they were much safer in their rooms down their throats, yet you let them go, why?"
"I saw the look in their eyes, they were scared and they trusted you and Spacewalker more,"
There was no sadness in his tone but she sensed his indifference. He spent the majority of his adult life taking care of these people, letting them stay, welcoming them and introducing the Dropship as what was meant to be a safe haven.
"They trust you, you know?" she meant for her words to come out casually but she held real genuine meaning as she spoke.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and scoffed, "They lined up ready to go the minute you stood up, they trust and listen to you more," she went to argue when he continued, eyes returning to the path ahead, "Don't deny it, Princess. Monty worships the ground you walk on, Octavia wouldn't shut up about you when I haven't been able to get a word out of her in months, and I don't think I've ever seen Miller blush so hard at being called Nathan, let alone the bastard letting anyone call him by his first name,"
Clarke paused unaware of the impression she made. What surprised her wasn't really the information he gave but the tone he took when he was explaining this to her. It wasn't in envy, he didn't spit the words out at her, if anything he seemed slightly grateful. She tried to shake it off but couldn't, so she let it settle into the depths of her. Ignoring the pleading reminder of the reel that played in her head of all the harsh words exchanged between the two of them in this short time they've known each other.
"Yeah, well, I gave them an easy choice. I encouraged them to run away. You teach them to fight for themselves, and seconds before I said anything they were willing to do anything you would have told them to. That includes standing their ground and fighting for their home,"
The silence came back only this time it wasn't as awkward as it had been, still awkward, just not as much. She could tell he was letting her words sink in. She also knew that he probably already knew all of this and maybe her words didn't have the affect she wanted them to. He wouldn't look at her after that. He clearly suffered, or had gone through something traumatically because that look, that look was one that Clarke knew all too well.
She turned her stare to the sky above, again. It was really starting to clear up now and she smiled, not caring that the person she swore she hated days ago was in the next seat. Since the nuclear war, the earth was never the same as it had once been. Above, where a light blue would have reflected off the great oceans was now a more indigo blue. Even against the bright sun that blazed down ten times brighter than it had once been, there was a shield of darkness, like a blanket, wrapped around earth.
"Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds," a swoosh sound of his jacket indicated that Clarke now had brown eyes glued to her. She peaked at him, sighing, "It's Oppenheimer, he's the man who—"
"I know who Oppenheimer is," his tone was laced with amusement all the while giving her a tease of what she thought could be a smile. The corners of his lips perking up just enough to show the edge of his teeth, then going back to their drawn out line.
"I wonder if he knew what the fuck he was doing when he decided to create such a weapon,"
"Probably not,"
"How do you know?"
"Who would go ahead and create an atomic bomb if he knew that one day it would eliminate the human race?"
She smirked then, "You'd be surprised what people would do, no matter how terrible the consequences are,"
"I have a better idea than you could ever imagine, Princess. If you only knew, you'd think surprised is far from what I'd be,"
She was tempted to ask. Shaking her head within, and deciding against it, she shuffled to the brink of her seat fiddling with the stereo nob.
"Doesn't work,"
"Hard to believe Raven wouldn't install some next level sound system in here,"
She tried again, ignoring the roll of his eyes at her compulsive behaviour. Turning the nob back and forth several times with no response, she huffed giving up and sitting back in her seat. It took him only a moment before reluctantly trying his luck at the stereo. Of course the minute he touches it the music starts filling up the car. A triumph smirk greets her when she glares at him, she can't deny how well it suits him though. He flipped through the selection of songs already encoded on there.
"Stop," she told him when a familiar melody reached her ears. She smiled brightly not able to contain her excitement, "I used to listen to this one all the time, it's crazy old. They found it years ago in between a bunch of stuff savaged from the wreckage,"
The lyrics started pouring out of the speakers.
You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so we can fly away?
We gotta make a decision
We leave tonight or live and die this way
She bit her lip as goosebumps covered her arms even though her jacket was zipped up to the top. The next part tugged at her heart strings, she stared out at the open road, the open sky, the open world around them.
So I remember we were driving, driving in your car
The speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
She hummed along to the song, allowing its form of escapism to take her. It did touch her heart a little more than she'd like but there was something about it. Music was able to bring back emotions, take you to a time when the same song was playing and you felt something entirely different.
The first time she heard it was on the local, and only, radio station that began to play a collection of songs that were found in various depots around Arkadia. Her father grabbed her hand and pulled her off their couch. They danced to it all night long, fumbling over the words, laughing when they missed steps in the made up dance they were trying to perfect.
Watery eyes and the fear of having tears leak, she leaned over, about to shut it off but her hand was held back by a warmer one. He didn't look at her, the instant their fingers made contact he retracted, "Leave it," he said softly.
Clarke didn't even know that he did anything softly.
The song kept playing, then replaying and replaying until she remembered all the words. She sang along under her breath, noticing the way Bellamy didn't condone her rather, he turned the music down a bit to hear her clearly.
I, I, had a feeling that I belonged,
I, I had a feeling that I could be someone
As soon as the words left her lips she glimpsed at him. He was already watching her, the way her lips curled over the words, the way her eyes held more than she was letting anyone in on. The way a tiny hue of pinkish blush now covered her neck too.
"You want to belong?" he asked her, voice gruff like he had just woken up or spent hours screaming off a tall mountain somewhere.
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Do you?"
"I thought so, yeah. I'm not sure anymore, if this the world I'm living in, I don't want to belong," she admitted. Her eyes glazed over, she focused ahead of them. Watching the trees swoosh by, the speed they were travelling at was intoxicating.
If only they could fly away.
"The twelve clans are getting ready for war. They all agreed to the alliance but we're not enough to overthrow Jaha and those in Arkadia who agree with him. His foolish attack only caused anger to rise," he cut in. She was thankful for it.
"Okay, so what's the plan now? Do you have any leads from inside Arkadia?" before he could answer her she raised an eyebrow, "Wait, how come none of your inside people warned you about the bombs?"
"Jaha knew he was being watched, switched out all codes and servers. Raven's been hunched over the computer figuring them out with Sinclair the past two days," he explained, using one hand to steer the wheel to the right. They were between the trees now, swerving and dodging any that loomed over them, "The plan now," he went back to her previous question, "Is to get some people to cooperate and then work on battle plans," he concluded. With his free hand he ran it over his jaw rubbing at the tiny bit of stubble growing.
"You once told me that war wasn't something you actually wanted, that you tried everything to avoid it, why is that hard to believe?" she eyed him, really taking him in. She had done this before but each time she witnessed him in a way that yanked on this confusing part of her. The part that was creating excuses, reasons to believe him and agree with him, despite the horrible things he's done that she actually knows nothing about.
"Not sure," he shrugged, "you don't seem like the trusting type,"
"Takes one to know one," he smirked at that, and she kicked herself mentally for having a small sense of pride for being the one to amuse him. It was better when she was doing it knowingly rather than when she was being serious and he was ridiculing her.
"Will you tell me something?" he fixed her with the stare that she now knew was reserved just for her.
"Only if you tell me something," she offered rising up in her seat, challenging him.
"Fine," he licked his bottom lip. Clarke thanked the seat belt pressing uncomfortably against her chest, "Why did you really come to the Dropship?"
"I told you," she was interrupted by a click of the tongue.
"Cut the bullshit, Griffin, tell me the truth,"
She debated it. She hated herself for it but she debated telling him the truth. He didn't deserve to know, not with the way he treated her. Listening to a song in the car, driving around like she assumed a normal couple would do if the world was functioning semi-normally, wouldn't be enough to make her forget all about her insecurities or the way he managed to tangle himself in her thoughts constantly when all she wanted was to do her job and get out. But, how could she expect to get answers from him if she isn't giving up some answers herself.
"I did come to help you. I didn't agree with the council and the way they were denying that the Grounders existed, the way they were going to kill those kids back at the Dropship for mistakes people before them made," his eyes were ahead but his ears were tuned in to her, "But, the other reason is that I've done…" she trailed off, catching her breath, "I've done something, that I can never go back from. I needed to get away to forget it. I needed to leave so that I can try to make it right. This is the only way I know how,"
It was cryptic her response, but this was all she could give him. He wordlessly accepted it, fingers twisting the dial so that the music faded out but not completely.
"Your turn," he gestured with a bob of the chin, the dimple catching her attention.
"You came to the Dropship when you were what nineteen?"
"Twenty," he corrected, "Is that what you wanted to know?"
"No, I just meant that you got there when you were much older than the rest of them, why didn't you take Octavia and run? Why stay?"
"Octavia wasn't there at the time," he enlightened her, "After I got here I was ready to leave, but I had to save my sister first. It was my fault she was taken to begin with," he didn't tell her how but she wasn't about to interrupt him when she wasn't even sure if this was a dream or reality. He was finally conversing with her.
"Marcus, he helped me get her out of there, but only after I agreed to help him run the place. I didn't fucking get it, there were people here who knew better, worked alongside him longer, but he chose me," he didn't sound thankful. The cockiness she knew he had in him was non-existent, "I obviously did, then we managed to get O out,"
"Then he left you?" she looked down at her hands that were folded in her lap. Marcus Kane needed someone to take over and he chose a twenty-year-old who was basically on the verge of committing any crime to retrieve his only relative left. It didn't make much sense.
"Yeah,"
"Okay so then why not take everyone and go? You guys are able to leave and enter Arkadia, why not go beyond the wall and live happily ever after? I doubt you give a shit about what happens to the people of Arkadia. They are contentedly living their ignorant lives,"
"What about the ones that are just as troubled as the rest of us? I leave them behind?"
"Wasn't going to stop you before? You asked me to cut the bullshit, now it's your turn, what's the real reason? What held you back from packing up and telling Jaha to fuck off?"
"You asked me to tell you something, not everything. You got your answer, Princess."
"No I didn't, jackass," she pushed back.
It may have been the wrong move, or it may have been the right one, she wouldn't be able to tell you, not even moments later when the conversation took a turn for the worst. He set his jaw, the line running from the bottom of his ear to his chin defined and well carved.
"Must be a privileged thing, always getting what you want? Expecting people to just hand over their entire soul to you,"
"You know nothing," she spat out at him. It was getting rather tiring having a status she never asked for thrown in her face when she was at the same place he was, ended up with the same doubts and fears that she knows he and every one of Skicru has as well.
He gave a humorless chuckle that clenched around her heart causing whatever niceness that settled between them to evaporate into the roof of the rover.
"No, I know enough. Enough to see that you're as deluded as they come,"
It was like smoke was coming out of her ears, her nostrils, her entire being was livid. One day he will learn not to underestimate her. One day, she hopes, he will learn the truth. That someone would tell him what it was she really knows so that he would feel like the idiot he was for assuming such lowly things of her.
She inhaled deeply, grimacing, while her eyes were fixated on him.
"And what is it that you know? What has the big bad Bellamy Blake gone through that fucked him up so bad?" she teased but she knew he caught on to her serious interest.
He went rigid, a part of her felt guilty but a bigger part told her that if she was as smart as she thought she was, she would indulge in this and get her answers. They were stuck in a moving vehicle together, the worst that could happen is he'd throw her out but with the way her thoughts were going before they left, it probably would be more of a favour than a punishment.
"Let me guess, it was so hard having such power and leading a group of reckless and rebellious teens? No? Okay, then it must have been hard having a sibling, you know, someone who would always be there and share a familial bond while all of us have no one left? No… Oh I know," the mockery was another level, Clarke didn't even know she had it in her. This is the only way, she repeated to herself, "You got your heart broken didn't you? She left your ass and left behind a cynical, stone cold body in her wake?"
The car braked hard. Clarke put her hands out in front of her against the dash, stopping herself from flying through the windshield.
"Shut the fuck up," he seethed, hand white clutching the steering wheel. She smirked to herself, no chance Blake.
"Oh so you can shove me in the corner, threaten me, accuse me of shit I would never do but I mention some bitch who left you and—"
He opened the car door and slammed it shut behind him.
The heat, the air, the whole atmosphere was slowly coming down. She fucked up, but he fucked up first. He looked for any reason to fight with her. She was smart enough to know why, because she does it too. It's protectiveness, it's to keep those who want to get close remote and away. But she's also dumb enough to ignore it and use it against him.
I, I had a feeling that I belong,
The words echoed around her. Music had a gift for bringing back emotions and feelings. Right now, she didn't want to remember any part of this.
They were back on the road a couple minutes later. Bellamy hopped back in, detached going back to his hostile self. There was no music playing, no easy conversation, even the air wasn't awkward or uncomfortable.
It was just quiet. Not the kind that Clarke could find herself settling into with someone else, just listening to each other's breathing, but close enough. Guilt ate at her, but she hoped it ate at him too.
Her attention was given to their surroundings. They were still steering through the woods, dirt and rubble underneath the tires. She figured that it must be safer this way, but the problem was that Jaha had eyes everywhere.
Arkadia wasn't that big of a country, more like a large city. Once the walls were put up around it, it became smaller than it had already been. Covered in forest and wildlife, they had everything they needed, or thought they needed inside their little safe prison. The speed the rover was going at had increased incredibly. Probably due to the driver's resentful hold on her. She was tempted to part her lips, to speak, even force out an apology but it wouldn't change the facts.
Bellamy still didn't trust her. She had a feeling he brought her along because she served some sort of purpose to this trip of his. If not that, then he wanted to keep an eye on her so she wouldn't run around calling out for peace from both the Grounders in Polis or her mom and the council. Either way, she was regretting her decision. Not just coming on this trip, but refusing her instincts to run when she had the chance.
There was a hill up ahead, she braced her hands on the side of her seat awaiting the rise and fall of the vehicle only it didn't arrive. She watched, wide-eyed, as Bellamy pressed his foot down on the gas hard, they zoomed by. She silently prayed he'd turn, avoid the hill all together but what he did next caused a small squeal to irritate her throat. He shifted gears, swerving to the left, almost dead into a tree, before the rover dipped down. The drop was felt in Clarke's lower stomach, a hand clutched her heart. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of his maddening smirk.
She was a hundred percent sure that he could have gone easy. He didn't need to speed to get into that dip in the ground that led them further into a dark hole. She glared at the side of his head, not caring that he couldn't see it.
"Was that necessary?"
"No," he admitted with a shrug. She rolled her eyes that were now adjusting to the darkness around them. He turned on the taillights and the roof lights. The coolness of the tunnel was seeping into the car. They continued down the path for another half hour before coming back up into the daylight.
When they reappeared, they welcomed the sight of more trees but they were different than the ones she was used to. She turned to look over her shoulder to find that they were no longer on Arkadian ground but are actually behind the wall, way past it that she couldn't make out where it was. The car came to a stop, jerking her and her gaze ahead.
"Where are we?" she asked, unbuckling her seatbelt and following his lead.
"There's another person who can help us defeat Jaha. She's a little more persistent, believes that this fight isn't hers, so she's refusing to help," he informed her, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
"And we're here to convince her otherwise," she finished off for him.
He shut his door and walked to the front of the rover waiting for her, "Not quite, there's more to it, you'll see when you get there but that's the idea," he surveyed their surroundings, "We continue on foot," and then began to walk ahead.
Clarke managed to stay in step with him, despite his long strides. The movement from the trees, which weren't as broad and glow-green as the ones back in the forest by the Dropship, were the only sounds heard. There weren't any animals in sight, or noises of any animals either. As they trekked further into the jungle, the sound of rushing water echoed. A cooler breeze, salty and thick, fluttered its way through her hair, her exposed neck, nipping at her cheeks.
Bellamy sped ahead, and she jogged behind him.
A soft orange light shinned against them when they arrived at a clearing to a blanket of white sand. Her breath hitched, there was an ocean. An indigo blue, wide and far as the eye can see, ocean. The smell of fish and salt and sand and water filled her nostrils. What made her fingers ache, her heart hammer louder in her chest, was the fact that there was a sunset. The orange, pink and soft yellow tones decorating the sky and the water below it.
If this was another time, if she was here for another reason, she would have run around soaked it all up. She disregarded the wandering eyes on her from the man who knew exactly what buttons to push. She disregarded the heat on the apples of her cheeks and stared at the openness in front of her.
So encompassed by the earth at that moment, she realized her previous statement was true. Everyone wanted to belong, and if she could, she'd belong to the sunset across the sea.
"There," Bellamy pointed ahead snapping her out of her trance. Following his finger to see that he was referring to the large black block to the far side of the beach, in the middle of the water. It was held up by what looked to be sturdy black poles all the way around it.
"What is it?"
"It's where Luna is, the leader of the thirteenth clan,"
"I thought there were only twelve?" confusion taking over.
"After she left, there were only twelve," he didn't expand on this because a large man was walking over to them. Dressed mostly like a Grounder, he had certain pieces that told her he was not the average Polis member she saw during Grationem Dan. Clarke tightened her hold on her backpack, whole body alert.
"It's okay," Bellamy's voice, a whisper, breathed out. She flickered her gaze to him to see that he held something in those eyes of his. Eyes that made her want to forget where they were and why they were even here. Brushing it off, she nodded, and together they walked closer to the hooded figure.
"She's expecting you," the thunder like voice said once they were close enough.
"We won't be long," Bellamy reassured. The man grinned like that was the funniest thing he ever heard.
"I know," was all he said, then gestured to a canoe. The three of them were on their way to the platform up ahead. The water underneath the small boat felt different. It swayed gently, even when they were propelling the canoe forward. Clarke not able to resist it any more dipped the tops of her fingers in. The salt water sweeping over her nails, her knuckles, feeling so different. It was much warmer than she expected it to be, sliding up and down as the waves came in.
The water supply in Arkadia came from local rivers and lakes like the one hidden near the Dropship. They used pipes and extensions to get the water filtered and into homes. After a hundred years, water was easily accessible to those from the upper class, while the ones from the lower class had to visit a well. The worst part was that, Chancellors before Jaha had the power and the resources to get clean water into homes for those of all classes, yet they never did it. It was a game. It all was a fucking game.
You keep the poor desperate so that they never rebel, so that they stay in their place because they believe that they aren't enough, will never be enough or worth it. What's a voice of a poor girl or boy with nothing but the clothes on their back?
Clarke was blessed. She grew up in a neighbourhood, an actual neighbourhood where there were parks and houses. She went to a proper school in a building where others from her neighbourhood gathered together. She never missed out on anything, but she couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. Here it was, all this water that Arkadia gladly dismissed. Leaving their civilians waiting for it to rain in order to quench their thirst.
The canoe was being lifted into the air. Clarke shuffled back caught up in her own thoughts, she noticed the long wires hooked to both ends of the boat. They hovered above the water, awaiting the group of three young men who pulled them to land on the platform. Once it was safe to exit, she stepped off and followed the backs of the men in front of her to the large, garage like door, already open.
A woman with light brown hair in messy curls met them with a hard glare. She had only one man standing beside her with a stance that told them he was ready to attack if they so much as took a step.
Bellamy went to address her when she held up a hand.
"Come in, we'll discuss this later,"
Clarke confused as she ever was, looked behind her to find that they had an audience. The two large doors were open, giving the people sitting around enjoying their evening a view of the sunset. The place looked like it was one giant rig, Clarke wondered how many people resided here.
When she returned her gaze to the woman who must be Luna, she found that while Luna promised they would discuss 'this' later, she carried a look in her eye that reminded her of spiked armor, bullets, and nuclear bombs.
"Fine," Bellamy muttered, eyeing Luna and the people around them. The difference between them and the people of Polis was clear. They didn't harbour the same indifference to everything, or a hatred strong and see-through. They were more laid back, chatting away, some even laughed lowly not intimidated by their presence. There was a light heartedness in the air and it all fell into place for Clarke.
She was led farther into the rig with Bellamy in tow. The man from the boat was left behind, their guides now Luna and the man who held his palm against the base of her spine, the other at his side in a fist.
"They're so far away from everything, from everyone," she leaned up to speak in a whisper at Bellamy's ear only to have her forehead slam his chin as he bent down to hear her clearly.
"Shit," he mumbled, rubbing at his chin. She grimaced, rubbing her forehead.
"Sorry," cerulean eyes apologetic. His mouth did that thing where it gave this pulse like he wanted to smile but quickly thought against it.
"What were you saying?" he prodded, amusement still evident in him.
"I get why she thinks this isn't her fight. If you lived far away, with nothing and no one to hold you back, with everyone you care about in one place, happy, would you give it up for a war? For people who may not deserve it?"
The change that flashed in his brown orbs made her miss her footing and tumble over. His large hand gripped her upper arm hauling her back in place. They were close now, really close. Her forehead a sliver away from his chin, she was cautious not to bump it again. The way he was viewing her, it wasn't like any of the other times. His intent glances, stares, and glimpses didn't compare to the way he was seeing her, really seeing her, now.
It was like what happened in the car escaped their minds. Realizing this, she pulled away, standing on her own and creating distance between them. A clear of the throat broke the trance even further. Luna with her creamy face soft, and eloquent, beaconed them over.
"It's safe to speak here. I do not want my people to feel threatened or worried over an issue that is not their responsibility," she had a calming voice, if it wasn't laced with anger.
"Your people came from Polis at one point, it is their responsibility to a degree," Bellamy argued anger laced in him as well.
"I see a war is what it has come to," Luna sighed, "I left Lexa and her power for a reason, when she contacted me I told her the same thing I did all those years ago, blood must not have blood. I will not take part in a fight that I do not believe in,"
"What's to come, doesn't only affect us. If they win, then they will wipe out every last Grounder. They will come for you," Bellamy emphasized stepping forward. The man at Luna's side mimicked him. They were staring each other down now.
Clarke had remained silent, understanding exactly why Luna was reluctant but also needing her to understand that Bellamy had a point. If Jaha wins, he will eliminate all Grounders, those who didn't already die in battle, then whatever was left of Skicru. He will send guards to patrol the area around Arkadia, outside the wall, to take down anybody else he sees fit.
"Luna," Clarke's voice broke the stare down, both men snapping their heads to her. Luna gave her a brief once over, not interested, "Do you have a place for us to stay the night? It's late, and we won't get anywhere right now. We can talk more tomorrow,"
Bellamy's shock morphed into frustration, he kept his mouth closed though. Luna was analyzing her. Clarke could see puzzlement but also genuine interest in the way Luna was considering her request. At least she wasn't being dismissive Clarke revelled.
"Yes, I will call Cato to take you to a spare room," Luna's hair moved with her as she departed with what Clarke assumed now as her boyfriend, leaving her and Bellamy all alone.
"You out of your mind? We have to get her to understand what's at stake," he seethed in a hushed tone.
"It's late Bellamy. She's pissed we're here, pissed that people saw us. She wasn't going to talk to us properly, not in the way we wanted her to," she shifted her backpack on her back, the weight finally hitting her, "We'll try again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after if we have to, okay?" she reasoned. He stepped closer to her, she fought back a flinch, instead taking a step behind her.
He proceeded his advance, bent his head down until there was an inch between their noses. His fingers meeting hers around the straps of her backpack. The rough callouses of his fingertips lifted each one of her fingers gently from her hold on the black bag. She let him, not knowing what he was doing. She tried not to notice the difference in their hand size. How his enclosed on her whole fist, his fingers slender and long and warm against her own short nimble ones.
After peeling her hand off the shoulder strap, he took hold of the backpack and pulled it down her back.
"What are you doing?" breathing out hastily, the betrayal that is her voice said to him. He didn't answer, just took her bag and swung it over his left shoulder, putting it over the bag already placed on his back.
"Let's go," he moved ahead of her. She swallowed hard and was so thankful he couldn't see how she was shakily struggling to follow.
Fire. It surrounded her, bit at her clothes, her outstretched hand, her blonde hair loose in wavy curls around her shoulders. It burned.
It was suffocating, the smoke blackening her lungs, the hot thick air eating away at the atmosphere around her. She was claustrophobic, squinting, gasping to get a hold of fresh cool air. Wanting that relief but knowing that she won't get it.
The fire grew, if possible, burning the room down. On one side of the room was Atom, body blistering, wicked grin aiming right at her. He took measured steps in her direction. A gasp left her lips as she realized what was in his hand. A knife, the same knife he tried to use on Octavia, on her, the same one she used when she ripped at his neck, ending his pain.
She turned on the spot, but when she tried to run her feet wouldn't let her. On the other side of the room she saw her mother. Thelonious Jaha and Commander Shumway at either side of her.
"Mom?" she called out pushing to move her feet that were glued to the ground.
"Look what you did Clarke," her mother's bitterness snapped the room in half. The ground split open, fire erupting from the crack. Abby screamed, piercingly loud, gripping her abdomen that was now soaked in red blood, rushing out of her. Specks of blood landed on Jaha who smirked, and Shumway who sniggered holding a gun, pointing it at her head.
It was Clarke's turn to scream, finally she pried her feet free, backing away from them. Turning towards the fire, she noticed that she couldn't escape. The flames lapped around her, Atom was on one side, her mother on the other, and the smoke blocking her vision suddenly.
A figure was coming towards her, he was tall and distinctly familiar. She felt a hole in her stomach, a sharp pain twisting at her intestines as she noticed who it was. Covered in blood, a sad smile on his face, he peered down at her, holding out his hand. She reached for it but then the ground opened up underneath him and swallowed him whole.
She sank on her knees, crying out, screaming louder and louder until the dancing fire consumed her too. Until she felt warmness, not burning pain, cup her chin, swipe against her cheeks and grasp her body.
"Griffin," she could hear Bellamy shouting against the side of her face. It was his hand cupping her chin, his thumb swiping at her cheeks, at the tears that fell while she trembled against the makeshift bed on the floor, "Hey," he called to her.
Blue eyes greeted his brown ones and if she wasn't in a haze she'd think they actually looked worried. Her lips quivered as she recalled her nightmare, tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, to lie, to say she was fine but the scratchiness she felt tickling her throat indicated that she had been screaming out loud. She took in the space around her, remembering where she was, trying to focus on that, however the nightmare was embedded in her bones.
She shook uncontrollably against him, who still cradle her head, her body so delicately against his own. She felt embarrassed and ashamed. Fighting it though was not an option. She couldn't fight this.
"It's okay," he whispered his breath hitting her ear. She shook her head swiftly, her hair hitting her face, clinging onto her wet cheeks.
"No, it's not. The things I-I've done," she hiccupped, struggling to regulate her panting, "I've d-done," she hiccupped, "things, and n-nothing will ever be okay,"
He was in her face at that moment. All around her was him, Bellamy, intoxicating the space, the air, the feeling around her. He tilted her chin so she was looking directly at him, wiping his thumb across her left cheek then her jawline where the tears trailed off dripping down to her shirt.
"We've all done things, we all have our demons and our battle scars," his voice stilled her, "We fuck up, we regret, we mourn, and we learn to live with what we've done. You're right, you're not okay. But you will be," he continued to wipe at the tears that escaped, his voice getting lower and lower, meeting her ears only in their small room all alone.
"Y-you've done things?" she hiccupped again, brushing her hair out of the way.
"Yes. I live with that fact every day. It gets easier after a while, and it gets harder on really bad days. But," he paused looking down at his lap, at the lack of space between them, "that's life."
She peaked down at her lap as well, gathering that she was practically sitting in his. His protective arms around her, the gentle way he caressed her tears away, her spine, her shoulders as she shook before him. She wondered how often she'd wished for someone to be there, to hold her like this when she was having such vivid, awful dreams.
Like a lightning strike, she realized why she never had someone there. She pulled back slowly, a foot of space between them. Gradually, she was settling into the silence and the aftermath of her horrible dream. He stayed within arm's reach, a pillar of strength compared to her weak being. A few moments later, she regained her inhales and exhales, breathing deeply, deliberately, properly again. A wave of humiliation hit her. Bellamy had seen her in her frailest form, after a dream she hadn't had in weeks.
She peered over at him from under her lashes to find that for once he wasn't looking at her but at the far side of the room, he seemed to be deep in thought. His jacket was off to the side; he was in one of his t-shirts that should have never been sold to him because no one should ever be allowed to look like that in them. His expression was soft, for the first time ever. The tick in his jaw absent, the furrow of the brows, the wrinkle in the forehead, all gone.
She was seeing him as he truly was.
A guy, a young adult, who's had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders not once, but twice. His younger sister was his sole focus, sacrificing and caring for her in ways Clarke didn't even know about. There also were the ones on the Dropship who had no real home but he gave them one. A responsibility thrusts upon him, one he took without a second glance. This rebellious man, in spite of the things he's done, is just as torn and brutally beaten as she was, if not more.
I can't, Clarke thought. She couldn't think more about him, not in this way. It wouldn't be fair to him or her. They argued, called each other out and shoved through each other acting like they don't have a conscious when their fights got heated. But…but she couldn't shake the knowledge that he was someone real and honest, who had a heart buried deep down. A heart that he only ever let her see. The way he fixed up the med room a day after she asked even though he gave her hell before it, the way she found the auburn seaweed waiting for her the morning after Atom's death, his considerate behaviour that's hidden beneath seething words.
Still, Clarke had to make sure she was on that straight line she created for herself.
Earlier in the night, they were shown to their room by Cato, who was the same man who greeted them on the beach, who operated the canoe. He led them through the wide rig, turning what felt like fifty different times before opening a door for them to settle in.
It was a small room, and only one for them to share. It was obvious that asking for another one would be met with a loud erupting chuckle and a firm no. There was a makeshift bed on the floor, in the corner of the room. A few chairs, a few blankets, some supplies crowded around them. It was all in all a storage room. Clarke wanted to scoff at the hospitality they received. Luna wasn't happy with them. She wasn't thrilled with Clarke's dismissal of the conversation for a later time. Neither was Bellamy.
He left her to settle in, to call it a night while he went off doing God knows what. He didn't so much as look at her after setting both their bags down, striding away, shutting the door with a secure click after him.
"O, was thirteen when I rescued her from the lock up at Ark Prison. She was in a separate room, all by herself. A part of me was glad for it, no one would bother her but another part was…pissed off. She had been alone her whole life, from birth. Now with the worse that could happen, she was still alone, I wasn't there for her and it was all my fault she was there to begin with," a crack in his voice hit her hard, she was focused on him, and now, he was focused on her.
"To have all that responsibility must have been hard,"
"With O, I never felt that way," he ran his fingers through his hair, the fringe that was sticking to his forehead from the sweat in the small hot room was slicked back slightly.
"What happened?"
He didn't respond. He looked beautifully torn, even in the dim light with only their flashlights and some battery operated lamp flickering in the corner.
"It's okay, you don't have to," Clarke tried to assure him but he shook his head.
"Some things are better left in the past, better left for only one mind to burden,"
"You can't possibly believe that,"
A voice in her mind sneered, hypocrite at the words that just flew out of her mouth. His contemptuous smile revealed that he must have heard the same voice.
"I know," she responded to his unsaid words in defeat, "but maybe, maybe telling someone would make it better," she reasoned.
"I wish it would," his lips, red and bow shaped, were pressed in a deep line.
He was right.
In all the times she had wished someone was there to listen, she knew that she would have never been able to confess to her sins, to the deeds that now defined her. He had no clue what she had done. If she did tell him would he look at her differently, would he think less of her than he already did? She was sure he had the same thoughts running around in his head.
She respected him, something she never thought she would be able to feel in her entire life, but she did. She respected the kind of person he was, the kind of man who would selflessly care like that despite his attempt at playing the cold, distant soul in front of them.
"Your sister, your responsibility," she murmured, reminded of the day she first heard him say that.
"My sister, my responsibility," he repeated in the same softness.
"We've all done things," she gently teased, although her face was still sullen and body just starting to calm down from its jitters.
"That's only one of the many things," he was doing it again, trying to scare her away.
If only you knew, she thought.
"Let's make a deal," she adjusted her position, tucking her feet under her, knees pressed onto the warm blankets beneath her. He turned to face her, resting his elbows on his knees, legs bent in front of him.
"A deal?"
"You claim to know me, so then you know that I'm here for the long run. I came with you here, I gave you information on the council that was never wrong," he nodded along smiling at her. She was taken back, stopping mid thought.
"Go on," he encouraged, small smile still intact.
"We both know we need the other in order to win this war. So we work together, without being at each other's throats, and when we win this war, which we will Blake," she smirked at him, he returned it gladly, "then we can go back to hating and mistrusting each other, deal?"
He licked his lips, feet digging into the ground in front of him. She held out her hand for him, the other anxiously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Deal," his warm hand closed over her own, disappearing under his glistening tan and bruised knuckles.
Clarke gave him a shy smile, tucking her head. She was still adjusting from what could be classified as a panic attack to see the affect her smile had on the dark-haired rebel in front of her.
She laid back down, tugging the blanket up to her chin hoping that if she did close her eyes for a second time tonight, the pain and fear wouldn't take that as an invitation to evade her thoughts once more.
In doing that, she missed a light shining through to see exactly who Bellamy Blake was, because in that moment, he was showing his true colors.
He was staring down at her, in that way he always did, intently.