19.

Jasper Jordan was cheery. Overly so, that Clarke felt the heat reach her cheeks and the air get thicker and hotter by the minute. And, Jasper never had that effect on her.

He continued to stare, and whenever she caught his eye he would wag an eyebrow at her with a sniggering smirk.

She knew exactly what was up. She just wished he didn't.

Apparently, her rushing through the halls as everyone was getting ready to call it a night was well-heard of. So well-heard of that some people actually followed her, discretely, wondering where she would be racing off to. If it was what they suspected, then they knew she would be at the door of their leader ready to knock it down and engage in a screaming match. None of the others would admit it, but they found it quite entertaining to watch the two of them bicker. To watch them hide parts of themselves they thought the other didn't know about.

What they found was the cathartic moment they were all holding their breaths for, but were anxiously coming to terms with the fact that it might never happen.

Until, it did.

Clarke didn't know exactly what was going on around them in that moment. All she knew was that the taste of Bellamy Blake still lingered on her bottom lip. The feel of his skin, under her palms, tickling her fingertips. The pressure in her stomach that made its way so far down, drowning in lust was still there as well. Even after a night of restless sleep.

"If you have something to say, spit it out." Clarke groaned out. Her sweaty palm met her eyelid, rubbing away the little bit of sleep she managed to catch.

Jasper shrugged, but the smile remained. If anything, it grew.

"Nothing, just wondering if Bellamy's lips are as soft as I think?"

Clarke bit her lip, a smile and rumbling laughter threatening to spill. The way Jasper looked at her, all knowing and wink eyed made whatever strain she felt disappear.

"You're really the comic relief here, aren't you?"

"Do you feel relieved?"

"Kinda," she shrugged, then turned to see Octavia Blake walk into the large eating room, black hair in intricate braids snapping against her back.

"Not anymore," Jasper mumbled, before gathering his tray and disappearing. News of their screaming match was also travelling across the castle. It appears that when the Blakes are angry they make it apparent to the world. Shutting themselves in and everyone else out. A lovely trait, Clarke mused, sarcastically.

As Jasper's thin form waltzed away hurriedly, Clarke couldn't help muttering the word traitor, at his ability to flee in the direst of times.

Octavia's face was impassive as she approached, three steps away from the round table. Another very lovely trait the Blakes picked up, leaving her blind and unknowingly staggering to figuring out what really ran through those thick heads. Having her tire herself out trying to grasp at dead ends.

When Clarke left her room in a spontaneous and scatterbrained rush, Octavia was the least of her worries. The girl was still fierce eyed, tainted with teary cheeks, and betrayal emitting off her. When Clarke returned in her frivolous state, she found her gone. Only Raven remained, laying on her back, looking up at the ceiling with a slight smirk, to which Clarke ignored and crawled into her own bed, and the room went silent.

"I'm sorry." Octavia blurred out even before reaching the table.

Blue eyes widened in shock. The words spoken last night left her in pieces, in ways she didn't think possible. Not after all the shit she's been through. "You're sorry?"

"Yes. Clarke, I shouldn't have said what I did."

"It was the truth."

Octavia winced, "Even so. There are things you're going through that I obviously don't know about. But I should have known better. Because I know you Clarke. And while you have your way of ignoring or refusing to see the light, you still saved me. So many times."

Clarke's eyes hurt. She had cried last night while Octavia threw hateful truths at her. While she flung accusations and put Clarke out to be the spoiled princess, she also managed to open her eyes to all that she has been missing. To all the things she led herself to believe would end up saving her and sparing them.

"I shouldn't have said those things about Lincoln."

Octavia sat down, giving her the most exasperated look. "Shaking her head aggressively, Octavia reached out to grab her hand, "No. You might as well have been speaking the truth too."

"No I wasn't. You know him better than anyone else. He loves you Octavia. He wouldn't risk losing you."

"Maybe. But he did leave. He left me here to go fight for his people. Whether they're on our side or not, his loyalties lie with them." She paused, giving Clarke a hard look, she continued, "Just like our loyalties lie with you."

"I almost got everyone killed." Clarke spat out, anger rising from the depths of her she tried to supress. "I should have known."

"Clarke, you're shitting me right? How the hell could you have known when my brother kept you in the dark. When we listened to his stupid ass and kept you in the dark."

"Arkadia is vicious. We all know that. This place, so beautiful, so amazing was hidden from them for a reason, Octavia. I should have known my mother would find a way to rat me out or find some way to lead them to me, wherever I was. I always felt like she had something to do with this." Clarke thought back to the map she found in her father's study. The way the creases were done to reflect the exact location of the Dropship despite the ink across the paper that said otherwise.

She tightened her hold on the pale girl's small fingers. "When Wells died, I felt my whole body break. It was like the one person who was there for so long, who might have understood even a little, never existed all of a sudden. Knowing what would happen to me, he would have followed me if I told him about my plans, if I told him the night I left. Then, the result would have been death for us all before talk of fighting an actual war even began. I kept him in the dark for the same reasons your brother did me."

"If you felt that your mom knew, why would she risk Wells' life like that. It wasn't like he wasn't giving her information. Did he know something else?"

"I have no idea. My father hid the map but not well enough. I found it." Clarke recalled. "If my mom wanted to, she could have found it herself. So Wells being…" she swallowed the lump in her throat, "murdered, doesn't make sense. No one in Arkadia will willingly defy Jaha like that."

Octavia nodded silently, releasing her grasp on Clarke's hand. The weight of the words settling in between them.

While Arkadia wouldn't dare lift a finger at Jaha, the rest of the world thought of him as fair game. It could have been anyone really. Kane, the Grounders, even someone on the inside via The Dropship, via Skicru.

Clarke took the opportunity to gaze around the room. Late morning meant that meals were served and eaten over two hours ago. Still, some people loitered, delaying their return to work or life. Clarke caught sight of goggles and flat black hair huddled close together pretending to be looking elsewhere. When the two idiots caught her gaze, they blew her a kiss with wide grins eating up half their faces.

"I heard about your gratitude. Do you always thank people like that?" Octavia's voice rang sweetly, in its terribly teasing tone.

The blush that crept up Clarke's cheek intensified to the point where she was certain she'll never return to her true color again. Octavia only chuckled, placing her hands in front of her on the table and leaning in close.

"You do know he's pissed about it, right?"

Clarke's eyes shot up, "What?"

Her nerves spiked up, she felt her palms grow clammy once more. The sweat began to build up along her hairline like a switch turned on. From the way they ended things last night, the way she walked away needing to breathe, to think straight, it seemed like it was good. That he liked it.

"Well…" Octavia trailed off, and suddenly her eyes were everywhere but Clarke. Eager and waiting, Clarke leaned forward as well, the table pressing against her breasts as she jittered with anxiety.

"Those two think they're so slick," Octavia nodded to Monty and Jasper who quickly snapped their head up as if something interesting was carved into the ceiling. "WE CAN SEE YOU IDIOTS!" Octavia shouted from across the dining hall.

The two jumped in their seats, from fright or shock it was unclear. The only clear thing was the cloud of dust left in their wake as they departed in a frantic rush.

Clarke narrowed her eyes, "Octavia, please."

At the plead, the brunette's eyes softened, "Okay, I might have told Bell that I told you about how he didn't want to tell you about you being the reason we had to leave The Dropship."

"So?"

"So, I don't know. He just got really stiff and walked away. Then he barked orders for all those going to war to sign up with Harper and follow him to train."

"I'm not mad that he hid that from me. I just told you, I understand. I feel bad, about it all. About the risk I put you guys in, but I would never hate him for it."

"Oh, believe me, we know you don't hate him."

Her pink cheeks were now red. Tomato red.

"I'm his sister, and I don't even get him sometimes. All I know is, he was fine up until I mentioned that."

Clarke furrowed her brows, lips flat in concern. She searched through her mind for reasons but she couldn't think of any. Maybe he really didn't like the kiss…or her. Maybe he felt violated. Maybe he had someone in his room.

Fucking, shit. Clarke bit her lip hard, drawing blood. Maybe he had someone in his room.

"Hey, you okay?"

Clarke realized what she was doing and nodded. "Thanks Octavia. I am sorry about Lincoln."

At his name, Octavia paused. The dining hall was now empty. Even the workers behind the counter, closed up their windows to the kitchen and put metal lids covering the remaining leftovers that sat along the edge of the marble white counters.

"It's okay. We'll be reunited on the battle field." She spoke quietly, and Clarke saw the pain flash across her sharp features.

"You're fighting?"

"Damn straight."

Clarke tilted her head. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and the movement caused it to brush her jaw line. "He's letting you fight?"

"Bellamy or Lincoln?"

"Both."

"They don't dictate my life. They don't make choices for me."

Clarke smiled, one that manifested from near tears and the disappearance of the anger she previously had. "Good."

Clarke padded back and forth outside the training room. The maintenance workers, some IT crew guys walking past, and Kyle Wick all stopped to stare at her every time she cursed a little too loudly under her breath. She shot them an apologetic look but she could feel far from sorry at the moment.

"Seriously kid, you either go in or go find Raven and brag about how great I am." Wick said, adjusting his bag and his grip on the piece of metal technology in his hand. She raised a brow at his sudden forward approach, but he only gave her a half smile and nodded to the concealed room before her. "You can do it."

After leaving Octavia in the dining hall, Clarke made her way up to the last floor of the godforsaken villa and right outside the wide, white double doors where the man her feelings were conflicted about stood behind it; furious and viciously seeking out anyone to chew up.

She sent an appreciative look at Wick who finally made his way to the stairs, and down three floors where she was sure Raven Reyes was awaiting his lazy ass.

Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and moved forward.

Lifting her shaky hand to push against the door, she was startled by a loud cough.

"Finn?"

His boyish hair seemed shorter, he must have cut it or something because it didn't curve over his right eye like it had the previous day. Since the meeting Bellamy called where he delegated his presence in the war for training the few here who wanted to join him, and ensuring that the others who could help reach their upmost potential, Clarke hadn't seen Finn. He seemed less interested in the words his supposed leader was saying, and more interest in something else. Something that was threatening the line between winning and losing the war.

"Hey, looks like we came full circle." He nodded at the door, arms bent at his sides.

Clarke evaluated him. The way his head hung too high like he was compensating for something. His jacket frailing even more than before, she could make out exactly where his fingers were, clenched and together in his pockets. Having heard clearly what he said, understanding how indeed they were standing right outside a new set of doors that hid Skicru's most fearless fighters.

"Looks like," she hummed. His brown eyes shone, not expecting her to be so curt. The guilt set in with Clarke. While she knew of his indecent acts, she didn't truly know what had occurred. And while she had her best friend's back, Finn made her feel less alone during her timid and painful first couple of days at The Dropship when everyone turned their backs on her.

"I'm sorry," she concluded, slightly unsure why those words were the ones to leave her lips. Still, she continued, eyes darting from his own eyes. His left to his right, searching. "I know this war was something you wanted to avoid. Honestly," she sighed, "maybe you're right. Maybe us staying in that creepy bunker the day of the bombing might have kept us all alive. But until when?"

Finn's lips set in a straight line. He looked anywhere else, studying the details of the creamy white doors.

"In order to really end this. To really put Jaha in his place, we had to do this, Finn."

"You're telling me you didn't, for one second, believe there was another way?"

"Of course I did. But—"

"But what Clarke? What changed from then to now?"

She watched as his brows creased with utter confusion. He hadn't been there with Lexa as she threatened lives like they were easily disposable. He hadn't been there when Luna turned her back and willingly accepted the fact that innocent lives were being manhandled.

Finn Collins was sat, pretty, in his lonesome brooding cave on the tip top of The Dropship where peace was the right answer. The only answer.

"This is a time of war. Peace is an illusion, Finn. It took me a long while to understand, to realize this but it is exactly that. A false notion we tell ourselves will solve our problems. It won't. There isn't a right answer. It's not what the good guys do versus what the bad ones do. It's what humans would do when faced with dead ends every time they turn around."

"He's changed you."

"How can I change? How can you claim that I've changed when you barely even knew me?"

The scoff that escaped him left her frozen, "Know you? I was you! Shunned because of a choice your heart made. Ignored by everyone yet living amongst them in insincere acceptance."

"I may have made the choice to stay, to be here, to go to that damn Dropship with my heart, but going to war, I did that with my head."

"Lie to me all you want," Finn stepped closer to her, invading her space and peeling his hands from his pockets, "but we all know how you made your choice to becoming a murder. Very much with head." He winked, before stepping away from her. Amusement flickered through him as he watched her eyes light up in anger.

Fuming, Clarke was left speechless. The boy in front of her, his spitting words floated in the air around her and as he retreated she felt her heart clench.

"The girl? The one you fought so hard to be with. The one you left Raven for?"

She caught the way his jaw clenched, the fine line firm and defined. "What about her?"

"Where is she?"

A long obvious pause set between them. Finn looking straight ahead, still tense and Clarke observing, knowingly.

"She got caught up in a fight that wasn't hers." Finn rubbed his left hand over his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and finally met her gaze. "If you love him, you wouldn't doom him to the same fate."

Echoes of his footsteps danced across the walls as he walked down the hall and through the end doors.

Love

The word stung. She couldn't decide in what way. It hit a nerve just right, where she begged it to make that same extrusion again, but at the same time it tumbled into the acidic depths of her stomach that kept reminding her of where it would lead.

Finn was right. He was right about so many things.

Clarke has changed.

The white doors in front of her stood out brighter. With a promise of better and happier moments. Yet the lines moving across them, if you paid the right amount of attention you could see that they were black. Tainted and darkened like the other side of this coin she was internally flipping.

Deciding, that maybe this was in fact a mistake, she turned on her heel to be met with a bony chest and flying arms that nearly knocked her jaw out, hard.

"Woah, Clarke?"

"Fuck, what the hell Jasper?" she questioned, pressing her fingers to her chin.

Jasper grimaced, "Sorry." He looked behind her, then the grimace turned into a full blown grin. "Ah, I see" he wagged his brow suggestively.

"Shut up. I was just leaving."

"You do know he's like really pissed off. Maybe you can you know, talk to him."

If Clarke hadn't been looking Jasper dead in the face, she would have assumed those words were teasingly spoken, nothing more. But the way his face turned grim, his features broke in worry, made her throat bob.

"I don't get why he's like that." She shook her head in denial, "And why would you guys question it so much. It seems to me that his mood swings are an everyday thing." She added in afterthought.

"Clarke…" Jasper trailed off. His eyes meeting the doors again. "Not like this."

With an exaggerated push, Jasper's arms wrapped around Clarke's and he led her to the doors, then through them.

Inside, the sounds of flesh meeting foamed carpet, yells, and sweat sliding off foreheads met her ears. Air thick and heavy with humidity, she braced herself for the impact of the heat as it hit her neck and cheeks.

Bodies were being flung from left to right. It was chaos, organized self-defence chaos that had everyone paired up and sparring. In the corner were Monty and Harper, the latter explaining a motion of sudden and sharp movements that were lost on the young boy who watched her body move with loving eyes. If the smirk on Jasper's fresh face was anything to go by, he was well aware of the lack of game his friend has.

"Ooh, the best part of all this," Jasper began saying.

"Is the fact that we might have a chance to defend ourselves." Clarke finished, blue spheres inhaling the movements, trying to memorize the course of action to the most complicated patterns.

"Uh, not what I was thinking Clarke. How about the fact that everyone here is half naked?" he nodded coolly at a few girls walking by with their palms wrapped in white fabric. "Excuse me." Jasper whispered at her, but didn't make it far enough to chase the objects of his affection when Clarke yanked him back by his sleeves.

"Hell no, you brought me in here to deal with the beast, your weak ass is staying."

"Didn't think you'd be afraid of confronting the beast," Jasper fixed his shirt, rolling up the sleeves so Clarke couldn't grab for them again.

Rolling her orbs, in an attempt to be playful, she crossed her arms across her chest and scanned the room. Said beast was nowhere to be found.

The grunts and groans of the fighting warriors around her edged her on. The urge to join them gunned her down, pushing her feet to move to stand within perfect view of the current choreographed brawl between Miller and Bryan.

Miller's dark skin flashed left, he adjusted his footing as Bryan lunged at his right side. With an arm around his waist, Miller turned his body, strengthening his grip on Bryan's neck until he was behind him, knocking the back of his knees down until they met the ground. The curve of his elbow nestling Bryan's chin fearfully, as he tugged upward in demonstration of how he would end his lover's life, if this was a battle in the war. Bryan knocked his numb fingers twice against his component's arm to which he was released, gasping for air.

"So could've taken you." He let out in a huff. Miller only smirked, blowing him a sweet kiss and patting the foam pads in front him. They took their positions again.

"Hey Beauty," Jasper drawled out. Snapping her attention of the two fighters. "I see the Beast."

Whipping her head, her blonde curls a tangled and greasy mess, flew around her. She didn't need Jasper to point out where he saw their rebel leader. She found him. She could swear she'd find him if the room was filled to the brink with sweaty tired bodies and undefeatable combat skills.

The minute she saw the glistening tan skin of his bare chest, the butterflies that she thought she put to rest last night, came alive again. It took her four minutes last night, drowning her face in cold water in the girl's room to finally keep the haunting heat away from her. Walking away from him last night was one of the hardest things she's had to do but she had to do it. Conflicting feelings were customary when it came to her. Though her feelings were far from conflicted last night. She wanted him. Badly. Had she stayed she would have sunk deep into every part of him until she couldn't remember her own name, or his for that matter. Which she knew, she could never forget a name like his. A face like his.

He was Bellamy Blake. She was acting on a whim, and if it was to be something more she wanted both of them to be sane. If possible.

"I think you have us mixed up." Clarke mumbled, captivated by the well sculpted man across the room. He must work out at least three times a day, if Clarke had to guess. For sure. No doubt.

"Aww," Jasper cooed. Shooting him a warning look, Clarke took three deep breaths before stepping in the opposite direction of where she intended to go.

"I can't do this."

Jasper chuckled, "Yes you can." The encouragement, evident in his tone, was not as comforting as she hoped.

"No. I can't. He's mad at me. I kissed him and everyone knows. And now he's mad at me."

"For kissing him? I highly doubt that."

"Jasper, you're a nice guy but cut the bullshit."

Sighing, he placed his palm firmly on the square of her back. "How the fuck do you think I know what happened between you guys? I was there."

Ignoring her questioning look, he bit his lip to hide an ever growing grin.

"I saw the way he looked at you as you walked away. I was willing to bet my entire stash of weed and moonshine that he would follow you. The man looked ready to attack." He shrugged cockily. "Beast."

"You lost out on your weed and moonshine?"

"Fuck no. Thank God no one was around, and I didn't make that bet out loud. Although, if we had bet on the two of you, the war would come and go and we'd all die before either one of you shoved your nose out of your ass and did something."

"Encouraging." Clarke deadpanned.

"Always."

With a final push, he set her on the direction of the stern soldier, ready to attack.

She heard that deep, velvety voice that went straight to her core before she was at an acceptable distance from him. His orders were gruff, borderline rudeness in the way he was speaking to the few fighters in front of him, but they didn't seem to mind. If anything, they focused profoundly. Nodding sharp and quick before dispersing.

She stood still, his back turned to her as he went to address someone else. The air rushed out of her, and she toppled over trying to fill her lungs, she didn't realize she was moving in his direction until she met soft, sweaty flesh.

Bellamy turned in haste, fiercely shooting daggers at whoever had the audacity to bump into him. When he noticed who it was, there was brief moment of gentleness, before the cold ridges returned.

"Griffin."

Clarke, brought her hands up to her chest, unsure of what to do with them really, and when her eyes betrayed her and lingered down to his well sculpted abs, she feared bringing them back up to the look awaiting her.

"Blake," she replied, meeting those brown circles that held that glint she was terrified of.

"Something wrong?" he asked bringing his own arms up, crossing them across his pecs, his well-defined, glistening pecs.

Fuck me, Clarke thought, groaning to herself at how stupid she's being in letting him have such an effect on her. Then, just as soon, internally scolding herself at the very frank double meaning.

"I don't know you tell me."

Quirking his brow, his features set in straight lines. Not a single trace of anger or smugness. "We're training here. So unless you have a reason to disrupt us, or some medical emergency, maybe you should leave."

"That's all I'm good for? Bandaging your bruised ego? I actually came here to fight, jackass. You aren't the only one entering the battlefield." Though she was blatantly lying, her comment must have struck something because his entire face narrowed.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

A cruel smile was threatening to spill as she watched him fluster in irritation. "What so only Octavia can learn to fight? Only Harper and Monty and Miller. Even Jasper," she jerked her chin in the direction of the kind fool who was shamelessly flirting with one of the Alpha Squad girls. "Bad example," she concluded, bashfully.

Smirking, Bellamy parted his lips. Her eyes following the movement, and with the smirk grew she cursed herself again.

"You can't fight. There's not enough time to train you to be half as good as the levels that Harper and Octavia are on. I let you go into battle and you'll die three seconds in."

"You don't let me do anything, Blake. I choose for myself."

At first, her challenge of fighting amongst them was to rise a reaction out of him. To save face for the fact that she was hopelessly lost in him and he was shutting her out. Now, her motive was to prove herself. Something she's had to do since she stepped foot into the same world as him.

He stepped closer, the air turning from hers alone to theirs to share. Leaning down, he halted their height difference as the top of his curly mane brushed the edge of her forehead. His smell rammed into her, and it took every fiber in her body to stop her from gulping in his scent, filling herself with thoughts of him and him alone.

"You like making deals, don't you Princess?"

Clarke shivered, giving herself away. She was so consumed by the memory of his bow shaped lips, of the hard planes of the chest taunting her right now that she couldn't really comprehend anything else. It hit her hard when she knew it wasn't one sided. She let her tongue peek out, licking her own lips, dry from unexpected lack of air.

"What?" she asked, and when her gaze flickered upwards, she saw that his were fixated on one thing. She tapped his chin, playfully dragging his focus back.

"We fight, and if you win, you're welcome to join us. If you lose—"

"If I lose, I go back to Arkadia."

Bellamy stood straight, not expecting her to draw up that bargain.

"Excuse me?"

"If I lose, I go to Arkadia and figure out a way to stop their defenses from the inside."

The plan was brewing in her from the minute she learned that Arkadia was targeting her. From when she caught full awareness that her mother played a dangerous role in not only the progress of this godforsaken war but possibly her father's death, Well's and her own daughter's. She was hoping to bring this up at a time when both her and Bellamy were level-headed. When she can admit to her feelings and beg him to understand. A large part of her hoped he felt the same, that maybe he'd understand. He had a sister, he knew love.

Even if he didn't feel the same about her, he'd have to understand on some level. He'd have to understand the need to protect your loved ones at all costs. Especially when they were about to enter in a gruesome clash where your enemies and allies are all blurred into one.

"You hit your head or something, Griffin? You can't just walk back there and expect them to welcome you. Their defenses will be extreme, guards on every other entrance and the wall fortified. And this is not because war is coming, but because the Chancellor's son was shot a few weeks ago. Besides, the point of a deal is that someone wins. It seems like no matter what happens, you win."

"There's a way. There's always a way and I'll find it. I'm not the girl you think I am, Blake. I may have fallen for your shit before, your fool's errand where you led me to thinking there was a way out of the war only to have me put aside in order to make sure your plans follow through, but not anymore. I've changed. I'm stronger." Clarke seethed, her nose an inch away from bumping into his. If they acquired an audience, they didn't know nor care. "I'll find a way to break through their barriers and stop their attacks on the inside. I can even gather up a crew and go in. Monty, Raven, Wick and Murphy."

"Murphy?"

"Trust me." Clarke responded to his quizzed look. "They are no help here. There's nothing on this side of the war that they could do to help. They're skills are better off ridding us of the enemy from the inside. Taking down their walls, the wall, from the inside."

Bellamy clenched his jaw, standing upright he fixed her with his most scrutinizing look. "So you either join the war as a solider or go behind enemy lines as a spy?"

"You said it yourself, I love making deals." She smirked, tilting her head up as she stepped closer. "You'd think I'd be better at making them."

With her exposed neck, slanted head glaring up at him, and his stern focus, head bent down matching her stare, the whole room sat on an eerie and dark stillness.

"What's it going to be?" She took another step closer, toe to toe with him now. "Which one would you rather lose?"

"You mean you or you?"

"I mean me or the war."