12.
When Clarke was a little girl, her parents would take her along with them whenever they got called into work on the weekends. She would put on a show, acting like it was the worst thing in the world but really she looked forward to the pager beeping or the computer monitor flickering red indicating an unread message for her father.
If she had to choose, she preferred wandering around Mecha Station then cooped up in the hospital where she laid on her stomach in her mother's office drawing picture after picture. Her favorite weekend day usually started with her wrapping her tiny hand around her father's much larger one and begging to go with him instead of her mom. As much as she enjoyed the company of the nice nurses and doctors, who during their free time asked her about the pictures she drew or about the flowers by the lake near her house she was obsessed with, she was more at ease when she was in a spinning chair watching the rise and fall of her father's face as he encounters a problem and then solves it just as quick. She always wanted to be like him. To have that natural instinct behaviour that everyone adored.
She thought of this as she rose out of her makeshift bed the next morning. She was painfully glad that she hadn't woken up a second time that night like she typically would've. The bed on the other side of the room was empty. Curious as to where he had gone, she was also very grateful that she didn't have to deal with him this morning.
After last night, she felt too bare, too vulnerable in his presence and he had only seen the tiniest fraction of her horrors. What terrified her the most was the fact that being vulnerable with him didn't terrify her. It was like a breath of relief, like someone else knew what she had desperately wanted to share for so long but couldn't.
And Clarke wasn't just referring to her nightmare, but to every part of her she wanted hidden.
Scrambling to get up, she threw on her jacket and tried to stomach the stench coming from her hair. It had been four days since she last took a shower, as big as this oil rig is, she knew the plumbing was lacking and unless she was willing to jump into the ocean below them she wasn't going to get the sweet relief of the cool water flowing down her body.
Outside her room, the hallway was vacant leaving behind a cooler breeze than she expected. She tugged her jacket closer to her body while retracing the steps they took last night to get to the common room. It was buzzing with conversation and Grounders when she finally arrived. It was the complete opposite of the serene quietness from the night before. Their gazes met her golden mucky curls with mild disgust but then quickly continued on with their morning.
The atmosphere, the world was so different here. The ocean was everywhere, and the smell was invigorating, creeping out of every corner. She secretly longed to go back out to the beach.
The people here were in their own minds, caught up in their business and theirs alone. No one looked at her for more than a minute, or even started up a conversation with her as she found a place in line awaiting for what looked to be fish. Must be the prime meal of their diet.
It was all just different. Clarke established that she had to either find a way to see the outside world or get told by someone else that this was in fact earth because she could have sworn she was in a fantasy world. In all honesty it wasn't that much of a cultural change, she had been around the Grounders long enough to become very comfortable and interested with their way of life. It was the ease of the place. The way the people around had not a care at all except that they are well fed and beaming with happiness that she couldn't even imagine having in her wildest dreams.
She envied them. She envied Luna. She even envied Bellamy who was so far from seeing this crap and feeling like a complete idiot.
"She would like to see you in the Order Room as soon as you have finished," Cato stood by her side addressing her. Clarke didn't bother to ask who he was referring to or even scold him for sneaking up on her like that. She had seen this coming but what took her was the way that no one called Luna anything other than her name. She wasn't Commander Luna, she wasn't Heda, was she even their leader?
"Okay,"
"Hi Luna," Clarke began but was quickly silenced by a hand in her face.
After her insipid breakfast, having never had fish like that before, she was guided to the Order Room. Upon entering, like the artist that she was, her eyes were drawn to the wide wooden doors and metal frames placed in a strategic yet creative designs along the border.
The room was much larger, much wider than she imagined it would be. Possibly bigger than the entire second floor of the Dropship. It had rusted walls, cement for floors, and a coldness that raked her entire body, but it held authority that Clarke had never been familiar with.
The size of the rig from the outside gave not even the slightest of indication as to the true size on the inside. Just like Luna, it had hidden potential despite the bland attempt at seeming otherwise. If only Luna didn't know this fact. Yet, she did. Luna was well aware of her power, of her stance and her numbers and that's what irked Clarke the most.
"I do not have time for this Clarke of Skicru. We have been more than kind in letting you stay but your presence is unwanted," Luna's crisp glass cutting tone said, "Besides I have already given you my answer. It will not change."
"I don't think it's fair for you to decide for your entire clan," Clarke ignored her last statement, "don't they have family in Polis?"
Luna pursed her lips, hair still wild and beautiful, before speaking lowly, "Those who followed me knew what they were leaving behind. They understood that Polis, Lexa and Titus lived by very different rules."
"I know what that's like. To disagree with everyone else, those who wanted a war, those who wanted spilled blood," Clarke emphasized her understanding by taking a step forward, "But we are now fighting someone…someone who will stop at nothing to destroy you all, including us, his own people,"
Thelonious Jaha had the authority of any Chancellor, yet Clarke found that she grew less and less accustom to it. Not just because she didn't give a shit what he had to say anymore, but more due to the sole reason that her mother carried that same authority and anything to do with her mother, Clarke was against. Thoughts of Abby came rushing in, Clarke swallowed it down. Truth was, as much as she knew the Chancellor and how kind he could be to the select few, he was a tyrant, one that was motivated by hate and power. Sadly, he believed that one gave him the other.
"It is not my problem," Luna said, rising from the brown chair embroidered with fishnets in an articulate pattern going up and down. Clarke looked flustered, although the room wasn't as packed as the common room or the dining area, the presence of Luna, her boyfriend, and the two guards hanging by the door made it much more intense. Luna was essentially their only hope at gathering the army they needed in order to win this war. Clarke having repeatedly gone over a speech she'd prepared before going to bed, found herself at a blank.
"How could you say that? Weren't those people the ones who raised you? Brought you up to be the morally driven person you are today?" Clarke began. The words she crafted so carefully and encoded to memory now wiped away so easily at the sudden surge of anger rising in her. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes going for the large walls, high ceilings, trying to gather courage from anywhere.
Luna smirked, she casted a side glance to the man next to her who smirked in return, "It is really entertaining. I don't know why but you are innocent, you look innocent. You come here baring false teeth trying to get me to agree to something I spent my whole life shutting out. It does not work on me Clarke. Whatever you say, however you like to approach it. I will not join you."
If the patronizing tone didn't do her in, if the words didn't do her in then it was most definitely her smug face that pushed Clarke off the edge. To hell with her thought out words and attempt at consoling Luna. In her gut Clarke knew that this woman wouldn't ever give up this life so easily. So willingly.
At this point in time it really truly didn't matter what Clarke was going to say because the look exchanged between the two guards told Clarke that she would be wasting her breath. But if she was going to waste her breath, might as well be worth it.
"It's a pretty cowardice thing, don't you think?" Clarke took a step forward with confidence that she hoped she faked well enough, "I don't really know why you left Polis, don't think it would matter much anyway, but to leave your people behind with more problems than solutions only to hide away in the middle of nowhere seems to be a kind of weakness I'll never want to know,"
Luna's smirk grew but her border line ebony eyes were unimpressed, "You think I left?"
"Didn't you?" this got a laugh from Luna.
"No, you silly girl, didn't your boyfriend tell you?" Clarke ignored the feeling in the pit of her stomach as it travelled up to her heart before being banished by her head.
"He's not my… No he didn't tell me,"
"Ah, well," Luna smiled at the two guards, waving them out. They were reluctant at first but when she shouted a few words at them in her mother tongue they complied. Soon after she whispered in the ear of the man to her right, who took her hand and kissed the top of it before following the guards' lead.
"I did not run away Clarke, I was exiled."
"Can't imagine why," Clarke muttered loud enough for her to hear. Luna stepped down from her chair until there was little room between her and the hot-heated blonde.
"You chose to come speak to me first, without Bellamy. Correct?" Clarke nodded now not knowing why. She did debate going to look for him after she was done eating. Thinking better of it, she knew he would jump to conclusions and possible get aggressive. If she knew this was how it was going to be, she would have searched high and low for him. "Then you must know that you will not say anything more than he would, so don't waste our time here,"
"You're right," Clarke admitted staring her down, "We will say similar things but there's more to each person, Luna. You can easily accept your expulsion, admit that maybe Lexa and her people deserve what is coming to them, but you told us when we first arrived, last night, that you believe that blood must not have blood," Clarke took a step back, wanting Luna to see her clearly as she spoke, wanting to see Luna's reaction to her words, "I agreed with that, I fought for that but then the people I thought I knew dropped a bomb on us, on Polis. They are forcing our hand, they have taken all the good left in the world, left in me, in you, even in Bellamy, and are using it to drive out the light and turn us into them. Turn us into monsters," she paused taking a breath.
"So you can be the person that I know you've pretended to be, and continue to hide out or," Clarke gave her best menacing glare, "We band together to fight them. I don't want to spill blood, and I can see why you don't want to either. Fuck," Clarke gave a breathy laugh, "If I lived here, if I got a view of the ocean, of the sunset every day, had someone I loved on my arm and the trust of a thousand people, then yes I would never leave. But I know I couldn't stop myself or live with myself if I left my people to die, fighting a fight they deserve to win,"
Luna gave no indication that Clarke's mind was reaching into her own and hopefully getting her to find that there will be no peace without the war coming. As fucked up as it sounded, Clarke had to portray that to her, as best as she could.
"But if you want to be that selfish—"
"Watch your mouth," seethed Luna. It only prompted Clarke to continue in the same frustrated filled tone with her blaring blue orbs ready for the kill.
"That's what you are, isn't it? A selfish bitch who is willing to watch her own kind fall in a pool of their gore just to avoid a small speck of blood to imperfect her delusional world?"
"Shut up!"
"It must be nice, what about that boyfriend of yours? Does he know exactly who he's in love with? That you won't throw him to the wolves first chance you get?"
Clarke was well aware that her words were specific, spiteful. Blinded by red, she spoke like she was on fire herself. Spoke, like the hypocrite she was, without flinching. There was no negotiating. Luna wasn't even willing to compromise and it wasn't like she had to. Somehow Clarke couldn't sit still. She couldn't believe that someone like that, with such morals, who was not willing to fight a useless war, can turn their back on their people.
"You know nothing," Luna's deafening volume welcomed back her boyfriend and the two guards who must have been idly waiting outside for this exact reason.
The final sentence echoed, a soft buzzing sound met their ears as the room grew silent with each passing minute. Clarke felt bare, with the way Luna was judging her, amber eyes torn between wanting to strangle her or leave her for the guards to dispose of.
"You do not understand. How could you? A child like you… Leave!" the authority and ice cold wariness was like a slap across Clarke's face.
She made to move to the door from which she entered but at the last minute turned around. Luna was still standing there, expectedly, like she knew Clarke wasn't done yet.
Seeing this, Clarke realized that she had said more than what she was meant to. That maybe, Luna might be doing them more of a favor by refusing to fight in the war. Their deaths might be quicker, might feel like nothing with less of them, might end in a blink of the eye.
Without another word, Clarke pushed open the large doors and walked out into the cool hallway.
The sad excuse of a guest room/storage closet was much smaller in the daylight. There was one tiny window in the corner of the room. The walls made from cold hard cement, felt way colder than she expected them to.
On her way back, Clarke did the awkward walk-run through the common room hoping to catch Bellamy but came up short. She was on a mild high from her conversation with Luna. It was the first time in her life where she was able to speak her mind without any interruptions, without fear until only after the conversation was done.
She spat out like that a couple times against Bellamy but it wasn't purely coated with such confusion or hate. This was the first time she carried no inhibitions.
Technically this wasn't true, but she took the moments from last night and tucked them away in a tight box in a deep spot where she couldn't be tempted by it. Right now, she needed to focus on how the hell she was going to explain to Bellamy that she may have ruined any chance they had at gaining this ally, not that they had such great odds.
A knock on the door came before it was flung open.
"Hey, so I kinda…" she trailed off turning to face Cato.
"Luna requested to speak with Bellamy Blake," his thunderous voice and ready to fight stance was not something she was finding hard to get used to.
"Oh I have no clue where he is,"
"He is with her now. I was told to inform you,"
"Do you know when they'll be done?"
Cato raised both eyebrows causing the wrinkle lines in his forehead to take shape. He took a step forward grabbing the door knob, shutting it.
"Okay, well I'll just wait here for him," she said to the empty space around her.
Clarke let out a sigh she didn't know she was harbouring. Bellamy would probably hear from Luna how she was disrespected in her own home and that they must leave right away.
She shook off, or tried to at least, the irritation she felt for disappointing him. He had brought her here to help and all she's done since she met him was make everything worse.
Resentfully, she searched for her backpack in the heap of blankets she was draped in last night. Finding it, she unzipped the zipper and started to pack away the t-shirt she slept in and a few loose pieces of paper she used to write down her 'speech' she was going to give Luna about unity and peace. She crumpled up the papers shoving them inside then slid down the wall tucking her knees in close.
"I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered to the empty room again. And this time it was like the empty room brought her voice back to her, echoing, ever so lightly, "You failed."
For the next few hours she stayed in the room. She folded the blankets, went through her bag, unfolded the blankets, tried to take a nap, and then ended up staring at her sketchbook for fifty minutes completely uninspired, just filled with anxiety to the rim.
Her thoughts raced wildly, coaxing her into giving in and allowing the memories to flood her. It was what she did best, allowing her memories to remind her of the things she's ruined, the people she's lost, leading her to drown in self-loathing.
She flipped through the thick white pages, stopping at a picture of Monty and Jasper laughing with their head thrown back, they were clasping each other on the back in a place that looked a lot like the glade in the forest at Polis, except with pure sunlight shining down on them, not peeking through the trees, and a smaller fire in front of them. She had drawn it after Grationem Dan. She smiled small, flipping the pages as each flash of an image came up. Octavia and Lincoln in a tight embrace, Raven with her shit-eating semi grin semi smirk, Wick and Bryan hunched over a computer. She stopped on the last page.
It was the most recent one she'd drawn.
Bellamy stared up at her from the page, looking into her eyes, lips straight but giving the tiniest illusion of curved corners. Her finger absentmindedly traced over his features. He was not easy to draw. It was half Clarke wanting to perfect the shape of his nose, the right amount of freckles on each side of his face, and half not wanting to draw him at all.
The way her chest tightened under her loose shirt was all too familiar although never one she could get used to. Having the weight of the world, the hope and the lack of power to change her life, to actually enjoy the company of others or to even consider falling for someone, was so distant and so forbidden to her. She came into this world, his world, knowing that there will be consequences. She always thought that meant that she would have to say goodbye to someone, or maybe get a few dirty looks thrown her way but this was entirely the opposite.
This was letting herself care for those people, letting herself wonder what life would be like if she never approached the Grounders, if she had just stayed at the Dropship and shut her mouth without meeting them or going past the wall. It would have been better, much better. The sun beaming down while she's on the roof of the Dropship, Octavia and Raven by her side giving her a hard time in the best way, and Bellamy Blake considering her as one of them.
But it wouldn't have lasted. If she pretended, if she conformed to the ignorance of the people of Arkadia, then it would have ended up being a far worse war. They wouldn't have been prepared, they wouldn't have been ready for a fight much less a war. Because Arkadia has been planning for this. It was the only explanation. They had been planning this for a long long time, and a couple days ago, well… that was launch day.
A twist of the door knob caught her off guard, she shut the book in her lap with haste and stood up. His dark hair falling over his eyebrows was the first thing she saw, a trail of blood from the side of his left eyes was dripping down his jaw. He had a purple bruise on the side of his nose, tucked closer to the corner of his mouth where it was also busted and bleeding. Her sight dropped to his broad shoulders and drenched t-shirt.
"What happened?" she rushed over to him. Bellamy held up a hand in protest stopping her before she could place her palm on his bicep.
"I'm fine," he said sounding scratchy like someone was strangling him.
"Bellamy," Clarke said lowly, reaching out for him anyway. Her palm met with his upper back steering him towards the pile of blankets she had just scrambled up from. He dragged his bag closer to him, pulling out one of his t-shirts to rub the blood and dirt from his jaw, "Stop you're gonna ruin it," Clarke pried it out of his hand.
Bellamy sat there with his knees bent looking at her like he wanted to argue but was too tired to. She embraced this, feeling slightly guilty for enjoying the fact that a cooperative Bellamy was a nice change, and reached into her own bag pulling out a small white squared case with a large red cross across the front of it.
"What? I always carry one around, just in case," she gave him a pointed look to reply to his questioning one. He sighed, leaning his back against the cold wall. If it bothered him he gave no indication while throwing his head back to meet the concrete as well.
Clarke opened the box and quickly got to work. She pulled a wet disinfecting wipe courtesy of Ark Hospital and carefully wiped away the smeared blood over the left side of his face.
Her hand moved gently, fingers lightly brushed over the tan skin near his hair line, below his ear. Clarke could feel her breathing get heavier, could feel the way it fanned over his flesh but he had his eyes shut, not noticing or too tired to care about her rapid beating heart.
Soft muffled swipes were heard as her elbow kept hitting the wall beside his head. It was a weird angle but he looked too worn to move, and there was no way she was getting any closer than she already was. Holding the wipe differently, she tried to clean him up as best she could but her technique lacked. She could always get him to do it himself, she thought before glancing down at his hand on the floor between them and having to bite down on her lip at the sight of his swollen fingers and the skin breaking on his bruised knuckles.
Fuck it, Clarke thought, pulling away and moving around him. She threw the used wipe to the side, pulling the white box closer to her while placing a tentative hand on his knee. His eyes shot open, a hazy gleam over them. Wanting to look away but not being able to she kept a steady hold on him, placing her other hand on his other knee and pulling them a fraction wider so she could slip between them.
On her knees, she still wasn't at eye level with him but she was close enough and at the right placement to continue cleaning him up without a weird tick in her arm. He remained motionless, not speaking to her, not doing much of anything other than watching her patch him up. She was well aware of his heated gaze, completely twisting knots in her lower abdomen. She reached forward, wiping gingerly at the corner of his mouth where a blister was beginning to form.
"Wanna tell me what happened?" she asked, breath knocking against his freckles.
"You happened, Princess."
"I could've sworn I heard that before."
No one spoke for a while, she inspected him one final time predicting exactly where each bruise would take place on his rugged flesh and how long it'll be before they heal. She sat down, heels of her foot digging into her back side, still between his legs.
"I assume we need to leave tonight?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow at his exhausted form.
"No actually we got invited to a party,"
"Funny," she deadpanned.
"Luna wants us in the common room tonight."
"Why?"
"Seems like you made an impression."
"What did she tell you?" curiosity getting the best of her. Obviously Luna had ratted her out to him, she most likely wanted them there to humiliate them further and then formally decline their request for the tenth time before dropping them into the ocean.
"She told me enough to know that what she wants to say tonight is very important," Clarke furrowed her brows trying to comprehend what he was saying.
"Okay, I'm confused,"
"Luna told me about your conversation," Clarke's shoulders slumped already aware of this information, "she said that you helped her see the truth, that you made her realize what she needed to do."
Confusion was now just a silly term for what she was feeling, "I don't think that it'll be in our favor."
Bellamy lifted his head from the wall. Clarke watched in anticipation as he scooted closer to her, his thighs pressing on either side of her.
"I don't think you know the kind of appeal you have on people," he murmured taking her in. She bit her bottom lip, watched as his eyes followed the movement there.
"What happened to you?" his eyes shot up to hers, a small smirk greeting her.
"Got in a little fight with one of the guards," he shrugged but Clarke wasn't buying it.
"Seriously."
"Me and Derrick had a disagreement," at her puzzled expression he added, "Luna's boyfriend,"
"A disagreement that led to you ending up like this?"
"I was kind of paying for your loose tongue," he joked with an easy grin that made her breath catch. She felt sort of horrible for going off on Luna like that except not enough to forget the fact that in the end she knew either way someone like Luna who was safe, for the time being, would never agree to join forces with them.
"As much as I want to take credit for you getting your ass kicked, I don't think I deserve it all. Something tells me that pretty mouth of yours got you into it," she teasingly referred to his use of words weeks ago that were always at the back of her mind.
"Funny," he mocked causing a girly giggle out of her. As surprised as she was embarrassed at her outburst, she found herself leaning closer to him, shoulders shaking. They were lost, utterly trampled on. She gave a weird scoff laugh at the fact that she ended up here, on an oil rig, pleading for recruits for a war no one was going to win.
Suddenly he was all she saw. Suddenly she was so vastly aware of his bare arms brushing against her shoulder, his thighs pressed up against her sides, how the material covering up his chest was inches away. Her laughter stopped, catching in her throat. She got up in hast, not thinking about anything else other than getting to colder air. Air that wasn't tainted by him or his magnetism.
"Uh, y-you're going to be fine, Blake. Just a couple of bruises," she tilted her chin up, fixed on a point on the wall above his head.
"Where did you get that thing anyway," he kicked the box lightly by his foot.
"My mom gave it to me a long time ago,"
"You always wanted to be a medic?"
Clarke brushed her hands over her thighs. The sweat that gathered there made her palms clammy.
"No," she admitted out loud for the first time. Her eyes glaring at the sleeves of his t-shirt.
"Figured," that made her neck snap down to face him.
"What do you mean?"
"You like to help people, you may even like being a medic, but I can see that your heart isn't in it,"
"Wow, you have a gift," the corners of her mouth tilting, "How could you possibly know that?" she whispered after a moment, feeling more exposed than she ever was.
"Because Griffin," he clasped his hands together over his knees, "I know a sad heart when I see one"
"I thought you said you didn't have a heart?"
"I don't," he agreed closing his eyes once more. She hated to admit it but the ruggedness that came with his scars and purple blotches was insanely attractive.
"Hey," she called out to him. He half opened his eyelids, turning his head in her direction, "you can't fall asleep. I don't know how hard he hit you but you may have a concussion,"
"You're going soft, Princess. Didn't you yell at me less than twenty-four hours ago?"
"Says the one with the nickname he can't seem to let go of. It's Clarke by the way," she went to the other side of the room, directly across from him before sliding down the wall and mimicking his position.
"I think you like it," his infamous smirk made an appearance.
Rolling her eyes while tripping over the fact that he had shown her more than twice now how well he knew her, she brought her fingers up and through her knotted hair.
Bellamy's own eyes rolled back as he adjusted his position to be more restful. Afraid he was going to get lulled into a slumber, Clarke opened her mouth and spoke much too loudly.
"No one ever told me why you guys call them Grounders anyway?"
"Because they knew the grounds better than the people of Arkadia, who stayed confided behind their wall," Bellamy replied, eyes still closed.
"Didn't Lexa say the wall was built fifty years ago?"
"Yeah but even then, no one went exploring,"
"What happened?"
She was enticed by his brown spheres finally meeting her. He was quiet for a few seconds, she figured he must be debating if he should tell her but he surprised her by giving her a small encouraging smile.
"C'mere and I'll tell you,"
He was always surprising her. Two days ago she would have told him to jump off the cliff he saved Mel from, that she would jump off that stupid cliff rather than be that close to him, that impaired ever again.
However, it was two days later and in those moments between worry and fear, she found that his company was something else entirely.
"Fine, but I expect the whole damn story," she groaned going back over to his side of the room. He chuckled deep and raw causing her toes to curl.
"Lexa was right. The wall got put up because someone caused a rift between the citizens of Arkadia and the Grounders. Except, the Grounders and the Arkadians are one in the same," he launched into the story.
"How do you mean?" Clarke said, wrapping her arms around her knees tucking them closer to her chest.
"There was no sides in the beginning. It was all one nation. Some people decided to settle in what we know as Arkadia and some decided to settle in what is now Polis," his tone was like a professor giving a lesson, she bit back a smile at that.
"They were fine for fifty years. Both following the same rules, both run under the same Chancellor and then one day someone had enough. It was a mother, who was forced to kill her child. She went into hiding when she first found out she was having a second child. Then after giving birth, she was cornered. They shoved a gun in her hand and tormented her," his voice was sullen, holding an edge so sharp, "the Chancellor at the time, drunk with power, wanted to use her as an example. People were pretty good at following his fucked up laws but when the opportunity presents itself, he jumps at the chance to prove just how powerful he is. Fucking coward," hate spilled across the floor at his scornful tone.
"The woman ended up shooting her son, then herself. She had an older daughter, one who was nowhere to be found at the time. I think she wanted to kill her too, not wanting her daughter to grow up in that kind of world but didn't have the time to run around and find her," Clarke sat in place, not having moved an inch. She watched as his lips moved telling the tale of a sad society. A sad reminder known all too well.
"That's the girl Lexa mentioned right? The girl she said she knew?"
Bellamy nodded, "It was her mother."
Clarke gaped at the new information that met her ears.
"All hell broke loose not long after. Turns out the woman was raped; it wasn't her fault. They didn't have the right implants perfected at the time, they used special herbs. No one believed her when she told them, they wouldn't even sell her the herbs because fate is a bitch and the owner's son was the bastard who did it,"
"So she killed her child and herself," she started.
"For a mistake that she didn't make," he finished off sighing.
"What happened to the girl? Lexa's mother?"
"She was a child of war. She was only six years old. She had made friends in Arkadia, knew only kindness but when shit hit the fan, everything was tarnished. Friendships broken, war threatened. The Chancellor had a rebellion sucking away at his power, so like the fucker he was, he built a wall, chipped everyone and burned all remembrance of a world without a barrier between the good and the bad. Little did he know that no matter what you do, bad was being created inside his little prison,"
Her expression was one of bewilderment at his use of words. The way he so carelessly mentioned the thoughts she's always had.
"That's insane," Clarke turned her gaze ahead of her, "Lexa told you this?"
"Not at first, when she found out about Octavia, about our life, she was more than compliant,"
Clarke pushed back that green envy crawling from her feet to her head. His past was his, like hers was hers. Lexa and Bellamy swapping stories was slightly irritating since he has failed to do as much with her, but she had to remind herself once again that she shouldn't care about that.
"How come no one else knows about this?" she asked.
"Not everyone is willing to listen, let alone believe it. They're all brainwashed," he closed his mouth briefly, going to continue his thought when the door swung open.
"You are wanted in the common room," a younger male said to the pair of them. He had boyish features, softer looking skin and an attitude that held less brassiness than Cato. Bellamy said a few words to him as he got up but Clarke was too consumed in the things she recently learned.
"Let's go," Bellamy whispered in her ear when she reached her full height.
Together they made their way to the common room, taking calculated steps behind their new guide and by the looks on their faces they were definitely planning for an attack or an escape route. Whichever came first.
It was much louder, much busier than it had been in the morning. The large garage like door was flung open again letting the gorgeous view of the sunset to be their back drop.
"I kind of wish I didn't tell Luna she was a selfish bitch only for the fact that I want to stay an extra night just to see this view one last time," she mumbled by Bellamy's shoulder. She didn't manage to catch his response because they were both pushed to be in front of Luna and Derrick.
The two men were shooting daggers at each other, by the matching bruises and the puffed up yellow blotchy flesh on both sides of Derrick's jaw it seemed like one hell of a fist fight.
"Leaders of Skicru," Luna said in a quieter, less icy filled voice. Clarke made a small sound in the back of her throat wanting to correct her assumption in thinking Clarke was co-leading but when a familiar hand wrapped tightly around her wrist she held back. Her stare drifted to the long tan fingers enclosed around her white flesh. When she averted her attention back to the thirteenth clan's leader, she was made aware of the fact that Luna caught sight of exactly what had happened.
"I thank you for coming all this way to build such strong connections," her eyes lit up while her lips were still a constant straight line, "I am pleased to say that you have made a valid point. We are all one. We all must fight the enemy who is so willing to slaughter us off one by one, however," she paused turning around the room, making sure every last person had eyes and ears on her, "We will fight our own way. You will not get our soldiers but our intel, our supplies, and when the time comes, our support,"
Clarke snapped her stare away from Luna and to the man standing at her sides, fingers ghosting over the delicate flesh of her inner wrist. He remained passive, unmoving, and like this news what not news to him at all.
The room was like a dark tunnel, except it wasn't dark, not with the glowing hues of auburn and pink that flattered the sky coming in from the open garage like door. But, it did feel like they were going deeper and deeper into this never ending silent death trap. Everyone, all the Grounders, that gathered around weren't hostile about the fact that they may have to give up their best weapons. They were probably much too happy about the fact that they were far from the battle lines as they could be.
After another beat, Luna called out in their native tongue and one by one the Grounders turned to her and Bellamy and gave a short, firm bow in acceptance.
A meaningful glimpse was caught in the silent interaction between him and Derrick to which he quietly stepped back, away from her, and in the opposite direction. Derrick followed him not long after. Her eyes trailed after them, a part of her wanting to follow but the sharpness in Luna's stance told her otherwise. Together, they walked out the open doors and into the evening, ocean filled air.
"You must be surprised," Luna mused, taking in the view like she just saw it for the first time. Clarke gaped silently beside her earning the small corners of Luna's lips to flick up.
"A little bit," Clarke admitted, "It wasn't what we were hoping for but, support is a luxury we couldn't afford, not with the accusations thrown our way. So, thank you," she added lowly.
"I did not do this because I am intimidated by you Clarke," Clarke scoffed, rolling her eyes. Luna's smirk turned playful, something Clarke thought she'd never see before continuing, "Your words did strike me, but not in the way you were expecting them to. I appreciate your honesty, more so, the fact that you believe in such a cause that will no doubt end you. But…if you must die, then it should be the death you deserve, with the people who believed in your power surrounding you."
"You believe I have power?"
"It's interesting that you don't see it."
"It's because it's not there," Clarke argued furrowing her brows. Luna thinks Clarke has some kind of influence on the people of Arkadia which couldn't be far from the truth. She's the runaway princess with too much emotional baggage and demons she holds on a tight leash, "No one believes I can lead,"
"It does not matter if they believe it or not. I saw it today; in the way you defiantly spoke to me without a care except for that of your people."
"I spoke to you like that because I was angry," Clarke replied, she debated whether she should apologize for it or not but Luna wasn't prying for one and Clarke realized that she wasn't the least bit apologetic.
"Lexa believes you can lead, it's why she sent you here."
"What?" she asked taken off guard.
"She was the one who wanted you to come along with Bellamy, no? She must think you can lead," Clarke wasn't able to process what she just heard. She wasn't able to process the last twenty-four hours actually. It wasn't the time to anyway, from the corner of her eye she saw both territorial and clearly very angry men walk back into the room. At least there were no signs of any new bruises.
"What is he to you?" Luna motioned at the tall figure nearing close.
"I'm not sure," Clarke admitted, her gaze lifting off of him. She had wondered the same thing time and time again. They weren't really friends, despite their heart to heart or what can be classified as a heart to heart with Bellamy the other night. But he was warming up to her, and she was liking it.
"Ah, well, we will send the supplies, and agreed upon equipment shortly," Luna's diplomatic voice rang clear and true. Skicru and the twelve clans will be getting the weapons, the food, the hardware of Luna's people but there was no way they were ever getting the numbers that Luna has.
"Good," came the deep roar from behind her, "and what we agreed on will be done too,"
Clarke gave him a questioning raise of the eyebrow to which he ignored. She shifted to see if she could get answers from Derrick or the leader that was now draped over him but neither would meet her half way.
"Then you may leave," Derrick said, crisp and clean.
Bellamy nodded once, at each of them before Cato appeared with their bags.
"So what the hell did you agree to with Luna and Derrick?" Clarke asked when they were back in the cold, wet rover.
They made it back onto the beach and through the forest without talking at all, although the question was bubbling inside Clarke since the moment Cato shoved her sketchbook at her harshly and with a knowing grin. She shook off the shiver that was threatening the curve of her spine and torqued in her seat so she was facing him.
"Nothing important."
Clarke squinted not buying his bullshit for one second. Giving her a side glance, he saw just as much and sighed, "Just making sure their people stay safe."
She still wasn't buying it, "I thought they made that pretty clear, plus Luna can obviously handle any threat that comes their way,"
"Forget it Clarke," his gruff voice carried through the entire rover but not as loud as the hard glare she was burning in the side of his head. If he noticed, he ignored it but she could have sworn she saw him shift a little in his spot.
"Fine," she replied, "I guess Lexa managed to get one thing out of Luna's clan,"
"I'm sure she got a lot more."
"How?"
He pressed his lips in a thin line, face straight ahead and finger curling around the steering wheel. Clarke was about to speak again when he let out another deep breath.
"If the thirteenth clan is willing to give their best supplies and their support then no one, not a single person from the other twelve clans, can disagree with the Commander or step out of line."
"Why's that? Luna told me she was exiled."
"She was exiled because she wouldn't take her place as Commander. What happens when the person you wanted to lead you, to guide you, leaves and never returns your messages but then when a war comes, they're front and centre?" Bellamy asked, resting one hand on the console. Clarke watched as his long tan fingers hung in the space between them, she looked over at her own sitting in her lap.
"It means they believe this war is worth fighting."
He smiled small, something she thought she could never get used to, but slowly, so fucking slowly she was having to stop her heart from fluttering out of her chest.
"Lexa was smart," Clarke said with a hint of irritation, "sending me with you,"
When Clarke found out that it was really Lexa that thought she should go with Bellamy instead of him wanting her to come along, it felt like a shit ton of bricks came crashing down on her. It was merely the fact that she thought she was making progress with the rebel leader that she felt so disappointed, nothing else. Especially with their conversation the night before, she thought she was working her way into their sacred group, but I guess it takes much more than a lousy deal to be treated like you belong.
"What?" Bellamy asked, swerving around a tree stump.
"Lexa told you to bring me along," Clarke shrugged feigning nonchalant, "it was smart."
"Lexa didn't tell me to bring you Clarke," he slowed the rover down as it dipped into the dark tunnel leading them back to the other side of the wall.
"Huh?"
"Lexa didn't tell me—"
"No I got that, but Luna said," she paused, adjusting to the lack of light and the coldness seeping in.
"Luna thought Lexa was the one who sent us both but really Lexa just sent me, she actually suggested I take Lincoln who knows Luna pretty well. She thought he had a better chance at getting her to cooperate,"
"Wait then why didn't you take Lincoln?"
"She would have offered him the same deal she offered us," it was his turn to shrug his shoulders.
"Bellamy, we were lucky to even get that deal! Why the hell didn't you take Lincoln?" she asked pissed off at the fact that they may have had a better chance with someone who actually knew the sea bitch.
Bellamy chuckled, which both puzzled and bothered Clarke, "Easy Princess, Lincoln doesn't represent us. He's not Skicru, not really,"
Clarke was at a loss of words. On one hand she was secretly pleased at the fact that Bellamy thought she was one of them, that's what she wanted, wasn't it? On the other hand, she was slightly upset that that was the only reason he wanted her to come.
"If Octavia heard you, she'd kick your ass," Clarke said instead, ignoring all the feelings Bellamy seemed to cause.
"She shouldn't be messing around with that Grounder anyway," he replied with annoyance coating his words.
"He's done nothing but prove to you he's on your side and that he's so deep in love with her," a look of pain flashed across his face and she had to stifle a laugh, "Look, you joke about not having a heart, and sometimes I believe you," she shot him a look, "but, I think you have a huge heart when it comes to your sister, and you don't want anyone else giving her any more than you do, but, you have to face it Blake. You have to accept that someone else loves her too and wants to protect her."
"My sister—"
"Yeah, yeah your fucking responsibility. We get it, but guess what, I want to protect her too, so does Jasper, so does Miller, what you're going to fight us all off?"
"If I have to," he held a seriousness Clarke was afraid to indulge in.
"I think you can take Jasper, especially when he's high, Miller may leave a few marks, but I'm pretty sure I can kick your ass."
His soft chuckle touched her body, in all the places she was ticklish, in all the ways it could, "I don't doubt it, Princess."
She was thankful he was too focused on the grounds in front of them, too dark and busy to steal a glance her way and find her redder than she has ever been in his presence. It wasn't fair. Truly, it wasn't fair that she finally finds her place, finally finds her way and then the sad truth comes into play. Like a bucket of ice cold water splashing down on her reminding her of where she actually is and how little she's actually done to save her world.
They drove out of the tunnel and into the night sky. It was slightly brighter and with the taillights guiding their way the trees and vines and leaves didn't look as eerie. The stars were nowhere to be seen, except for one tremendously bright one shinning up high, smack in the middle of the black sky.
Twenty minutes later they were back at the Dropship. Bellamy was talking with Miller about what happened while they were gone when she heard her name. She wished she hadn't.
"Clarke," Raven's voice was shaky, hesitant and it caused the nerves and alarm to set deep in Clarke's soul. She had never heard Raven speak this way, ever.
"What is it?"
"I'm so sorry, Clarke. I know you guys were close…" she trailed off when Clarke rushed past her and to the engineering room at lightning speed. On the screen was an image of Wells, and underneath in block letters were the words 'WELLS JAHA, CHANCELLOR'S SON, FOUND DEAD THREE MILES AWAY FROM HOME'.
Clarke stepped back, legs shaking, mouth a gap. She tripped over her own feet, back hitting the edge of the table, butt gliding by the chair before she met the cold floor. Wick and Monty rushed to her side but she ignored them. The image, those words, everything just started to rush and blur in a way she couldn't comprehend.
"How?" the word came out breathy and tired and so sad that no one could really look at her. Raven turned up the volume and let the video play.
"Ark Guards found the body three miles away from Chancellor's mansion. The young Jaha, was on his nightly run when he was attack left to bleed out on the side of the road," the woman in the red trench coat spoke crisp and clear, reporting the news with no sense of empathy, "It appears to have been several knife wounds that caused the death of Wells Jaha, the night after Skicru's act of terror. It seems the finger points in one direction and with the constant threat of Blake and his crew, no is safe."
The image of her childhood best friend, coated in his own blood, lying on the hard ground was all she could see, playing over and over and over again.