A/N: A serious thank you for all the recent reviews and for being patient with this update – you guys rock! [Though, I did have one anonymous reviewer telling me this was not worth their time because a) I said Raven was beautiful, but apparently she's 'not even pretty', and b) I'm setting Bellamy up with 'whoreraven.' Beauty is in the eye of the beholder ya'll – plus, Bellamy and Raven…is that really where people think I'm taking this? It did make me chuckle something awful, but please – if you don't like this, then don't read it. Simple as.]

Let me know what you think of this chapter – I'm open to constructive criticism – remember this is purely for fun! Oh, and updates are more likely to be weekly from now on – I got a little excited and had been updating more than I thought I would, but I'm gearing up for NaNoWriMo so I've got to split my attention a bit more in the coming months!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the characters, events and world of The 100 – that honour goes to Kass Morgan and the writers for the (amazing) TV show.

Chapter Six

Bellamy

It was the morning after and Bellamy was done waiting. Clarke had begged off with exhaustion last night, asked him to wait until she'd rested, and the brooding grounder hadn't left her side once. He'd behaved like some kind of savage sentinel. Even when Bellamy thought he was sleeping soundly, at the slightest movement from one of the others the grounder's dark gaze was lit. He'd let it go – grateful that Clarke was alive and not callous enough to push it just then. But enough was enough.

Raven and Octavia were still curled up like kittens at the back of the dropship. But Miller had already risen to take first watch, and Finn had used the opportunity to disappear to who knew where when Jasper had come down from the second level seeking food not long ago. For a minute he'd thought he'd have to restrain him again, but one back-the-hell-away glare from the grounder and Finn had taken off. Monty had soon joined Jasper and he knew it wouldn't be long before the rest of the delinquents were awake. They'd be asking questions and he wanted to have at least some sort of answer. A game plan of sorts.

Bellamy observed the intimacy between Clarke and the grounder with shrewd eyes. They were huddled close together, sharing a whispered conversation, and when their eyes met it was so intense he automatically felt like an intruder. There was definitely something more going on with them. He didn't like it. They knew next to nothing about this guy, and for all intents and purposes he was the enemy. So, yeah, he definitely didn't like it. But he could use it.

"You speak English." He wasn't asking a question and it effectively popped their bubble.

The grounder rose to face Bellamy and scanned him from head to toe. It was one man taking the measure of another, and Bellamy did the same in return. Bellamy was strong – he knew that was cocky and didn't care one whit – but even he was unsure how he'd come out the other side of a one on one fight with this bruiser.

"Bellamy," Clarke warned. She shifted on the bed to rise to her elbows, holding the blanket over her chest, "He saved my life."

The grounder didn't like her fussing and turned to push her shoulder gently back down. She complied with an exasperated sigh – propping her head on the rolled up jacket forming her pillow.

"No, his grounder friend saved your life." Bellamy returned, ignoring her scowl. "That's two grounders we've allowed in this camp, two potential spies, which means he owes us an explanation."

"That's semantics and you know it! He saved my life and in return he doesn't have to tell you anything he doesn't want to." Clarke argued.

Bellamy met the grounders eyes. "He wants to stay in this camp, then hell yeah he does."

"They're his people, Bellamy," Clarke appealed, "he's not going to betray them. I won't ask that of him."

"You're not the one asking." Bellamy stated, "You're lucky I'm even asking at all – there are a lot less nice ways I could be going about this."

"Try it and see how long I stick around." Clarke snapped.

"Sometimes we have to make difficult decisions, Princess," he said sincerely, "It's not easy being a leader."

"You're right," she nodded, "But we're not monsters."

The grounder looked interestedly from him to Clarke, before settling on her face. He gently swept a lock of hair behind her ear and Bellamy fought the urge to roll his eyes. Fought and lost.

"What my people are doing to your people is wrong." He kept his eyes locked with Clarke's, but the grounder sounded like he was going to cooperate and Bellamy inwardly crowed. "I will not leave you now, therefore I have accepted my fate."

"How are we supposed to trust anything you tell us?" Bellamy's eyebrows lifted sardonically. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a reason no one here is about to form a Grounder welcoming committee."

"I will earn your trust," he stated, stoically meeting Bellamy's eyes.

"And until then, I'll vouch for him," Clarke lifted her chin defiantly.

Bellamy thought it was entirely possible the grounder had puffed up his chest at that comment. Or he could have been imagining it in the recesses of his brain where he found the two of them comical.

"Not sure your judgements wholly unimpaired at this point, Princess." He laughed.

"Not all of us are led around by our dicks, Bellamy," Clarke huffed, "When have you ever known me to put the 100 in danger?"

"I always knew you had one." He couldn't help himself.

"One what?" she looked confused.

"A dick."

"Oh, shut up, Bellamy." She sighed.

"You realise this guy had you chained in a cave? Did I imagine that part?" he spread his arms out incredulously.

"He didn't hurt me," Clarke was adamant, "In fact, he saved me. That spear that hit Roma was meant for me."

Bellamy's nostrils flared. "They still killed three of our people."

"You burnt one of our villages to the ground with your flying missiles – this is considered an act of war." The grounder spoke gruffly.

Clarke grasped the grounder's arm, looking upset. "With the flares? We were trying to signal the rest of our people, Lincoln. We would never have done it if we knew that was the result. I'm truly sorry."

The grounder, Lincoln, nodded at her, seemingly accepting her explanation for what it was. Bellamy thought it was ironic, in a very tragic way, that in trying to save their own people in the sky they'd managed to endanger those few on the ground.

"They, not he." Clarke looked firmly between them both and directed her comment at Bellamy. "You can't blame the many for the one, or the one for the many. He's done nothing but help us."

She had a point, as much as it killed him to admit it.

"Alright," Bellamy conceded, "He can stay, for now. But I want some questions answered."

"Jesus, you never let up..." Clarke began.

Lincoln interrupted their imminent squabble. "What do you want to know?"

"Your people – you say they consider us at war. What does that mean exactly?" Bellamy asked.

"You have trespassed on Trigedakru territory. You have openly attacked a Trigedakru village. Heda will do everything she can to have you removed." Lincoln's voice was bleak.

"Heda?" Clarke asked quietly.

"Anya is the leader of my unit in the Woods Clan – Lexa is Commander of the twelve clans." Lincoln explained.

"Your leaders are female?" Bellamy asked absently. He'd been expecting some big brute of a warrior to be leading the rest of the brutish warriors with grunts and nods of his giant head. Someone named Bruno or Caesar – not that Caesar was really a brute – not if history was to be believed.

"Your leader is a 'woman'." Lincoln told him straight faced.

"I love how you completely ignored the twelve clans part of that sentence," Clarke scoffed.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "I heard, I was just querying the most astonishing part." He was joking, but as usual the princess mounted her high horse.

"Can you spell misogynist?" Clarke asked him in a baby voice.

"Sure. Can you spell feminist?" he winked at her.

"I can do you one better, I can show you feminism at it's best." Clarke went to rise and Lincoln growled deeply. She looked at him and clearly thought better of it.

"Yes," Bellamy nodded patronisingly, "you are the perfect example of feminism."

Clarke pretended to ignore him and asked Lincoln. "Trigedakru – that means Woods Clan?"

"Tree People, yes. You are the Skaikru – Sky People."

"It seems to me," Clarke admitted, "that it would be in our best interests to move out of the Trigedakru territory."

"It would be a start, if nothing else." Lincoln nodded in agreement.

Bellamy immediately got serious. "And how do you suggest we go about that, Princess? The dropship is the only home these kids know right now. We're safe within these walls," he gestured with his arms, "Out there? Who knows how long we'll survive."

"I don't know, Bellamy," she said honestly, "But we've got to do something."

Clarke

After Bellamy retreated, set to turn the camp to rights after the storm, Clarke turned her face to watch Lincoln crouch down at her side. His face was set in harsh lines, but his eyes were gentle and focused fully on her. Her wound was a taut, slightly itchy ache in the background. She'd watched as he changed the dressing on her bandage this morning – inspecting it as thoroughly as possible before bringing her some water. She'd been whispering her thanks when Bellamy had lost patience with their temporary truce. But in the following conversation he'd revealed a lot about himself, and the more she heard, the more enamoured she felt.

"You must rest," he said gruffly.

She smiled at him wearily. "If I spent all day resting and left Bellamy to lead them alone it would be anarchy. Total anarchy."

He laughed gently. "He is not so bad. Slightly impulsive, but he would make a good Second."

"Second?" she asked.

"In my culture, we have many warriors, and warriors have seconds who train under them."

"I thought I was a leader! Now I'm a warrior?" she smirked at him.

"You are both." He told her genuinely.

Clarke went quiet and just stared at him – thinking about how much he had sacrificed to be with her and she didn't even really know why. He was just there – her protector. And he took this professed job pretty seriously.

"I'd like to see you call Bellamy a Second to his face." She whispered.

He grinned at her. "Perhaps another time."

"The idea of having to train him makes me feel nauseous. We really are co-leaders – hard as that is to believe."

"It is a balance." Lincoln smiled his understanding.

She started to rise again and rolled her eyes at the protest she knew was coming. "Seriously, I can't stay here – aside from being needed around camp, this isn't exactly comfortable, or private."

Lincoln looked around and reluctantly nodded his head. Raven had woken mid-conversation with Bellamy, and although she was now trying out the radio again, Clarke knew she had been eavesdropping on everything in their corner. She didn't really blame her either – it would have been hard not to.

"I will prepare your tent," he told her, "You will stay here until then."

"Alright," Clarke rolled her eyes affectionately, "If I must."

"You must." He leant over, threading one large hand in her hair with the thumb caressing her ear lobe, and kissed her on the lips. It was gentle and firm and too brief. But it felt like a claiming all the same.

Crimson crept over her cheeks and she saw his eyes were alight with humour. It wasn't that she didn't know this was heading down a romantic route, she just honestly wasn't expecting him to kiss her. Not yet. In front of other people like it was something he did all the time.

Lincoln took off outside and she let out an astonished chuckle.

"I knew it," Octavia crowed triumphantly, peering at her one-eyed from her little sleep-faking huddle at the back of the drop ship, "you're both going to make such cute blonde-haired dark-eyed savage babies!"

"Babies? Jesus, Octavia, don't hold back." Clarke laughed.

She threw back her blankets and sauntered over to Clarke. "I just want to say – I totally called this. Jasper so owes me – I'm not sure what he owes me, but he does."

Clarke went to tell her to keep it quiet and then stopped. There was no point in lying to the others – they'd find out for themselves soon enough. And she wasn't ashamed of whatever was developing between her and Lincoln – it might be highly irregular, but she had a feeling it would be worth it.

"I want a cut." She told the grinning girl.

"Here," Octavia held up Clarke's spare top and helped her wrangle herself into it. She lay back down afterwards with the blanket pulled up to her chin.

Octavia ran off to go find Jasper to tell him the news and Clarke turned to watch Raven. The girl was being extremely quiet, and Clarke had a feeling she knew some of the reasons behind her reluctance to converse. Now wasn't really the time to pick at that hornet's nest though.

"I thought I might have imagined hearing you use the radio last night," she called out, "Any luck?"

Raven frowned and shook her head. "Nothing – it's so strange. I thought that maybe we'd connected for a while there when the static changed, but it's like the Ark's not even there."

"That is strange," Clarke agreed, "Maybe their communications are down?"

"Maybe," Raven sounded unsure.

"You tried, Raven, that's all anyone can do." Clarke sent her an agreeable smile.

"I've got the survival database up and running, so that's something." Raven smiled back.

"Brilliant!" Clarke enthused, "We can definitely use this – do you think you could search for maps of the surrounding area? I lost mine and we really need to think about moving base."

Raven tapped away at the unit she'd set up – Clarke could see information rapidly scrolling across the screen before a large map was opened.

"What am I looking for exactly?" she asked.

"We know that the Tree People's territory extends ten miles North East of us to Mount Weather, and much further to the East from there." Clarke explained, "I'd say look to the South West to distance ourselves."

"A city?"

"No, that would be too far, and probably destroyed beyond anything we could salvage – a town maybe. Something that had a few solid structures which might still be standing."

"On it," Raven replied.

"I'll get Lincoln to see if he recognises it when you've found somewhere," she said.

She watched as the delinquents slowly drifted downstairs and made their way outside – yawning and chattering away. Some of them called out to her, others sent her nods and smiles. She was glad to be among them again – unruly though they may be, they were her people.

Lincoln strode into the dropship as a pair were exiting, causing them to back away wide eyed. She guessed it was time to address the issue with the masses before some sort of uprising took hold.

"All good?" Clarke asked him.

He nodded and lifted her into his arms, blanket and all, like she was a sack of grain. "I bet I'm heavier than a sack of grain though." She mumbled quietly.

Lincoln gave her a peculiar look and nodded to Raven who was openly watching them.

"I'll tell you when I've found something, Clarke," the young mechanic turned back to the screen.

"Thanks, Raven." She called as Lincoln carried her outside into the biting cold.

"I can walk you know," she told him in good humour.

"Then I would not get to carry you," he grumbled.

Clarke laughed and the air around her clouded with her deep exhales. "Where's Bellamy? We need to talk about what this weather means."

Lincoln inclined his chin towards Bellamy who seemed to be organising a hunting party, and getting others to fix together some sort of drying rack – for the meat, she realised. Bellamy was getting ready to cure any meat they found.

Around her she could see the camp cleaning up after the storm – mending the wall, righting the tents and cooking equipment. A few people were scraping ice off the dropship chairs, others were sorting through nuts and berries. She should really give Bellamy more credit, she thought. He might act like an idiot at times, but he wasn't and she knew better.

Bellamy finished talking and approached them. She huddled closer to the furs around Lincoln's shoulders and sent Bellamy a wry grin. "Oh, gracious leader, we need to talk."

"Those are exactly the words a guy likes to hear from a girl. Lead the way." Bellamy gestured towards Clarke's tent like the generous host he was.

Lincoln ducked to enter, and strode across the cleared floor to place Clarke down gently on a soft pallet. Furs, Clarke realised, letting her fingers roam – Lincoln had laid down furs for her. She looked around and realised everything of hers, small possessions though they were, was laid out neatly on a large table to one side. A couple of dropship chairs were tucked into recesses in the tents odd shape, and a bowl of water and cloths – along with extra bandages - lay on a stool beside the bed. And rations – he'd placed a bunch of ration pouches and a water container within easy reach.

Clarke didn't even know where he'd gotten the furs, or the table and chairs. She'd just been making do with the bed and stool. But she was absurdly grateful.

She grinned up at Lincoln. "I think I'm keeping you."

Bellamy folded his arms across his chest. "What do you need, Princess? I'm a little busy."

"If we don't do something about the cold, we're all going to freeze." She stated plainly.

"What do you propose?" He was all business now.

"Raven's checking the database for a town or a village we could relocate to, a way to get out of the crosshairs, but I'm going to ask her if there were any recordings of emergency supply depots in the area." Clarke decided, "Something that was built to survive nuclear warfare."

"Alright," Bellamy agreed, "Anything else?"

"Lincoln. We need to explain his presence." She said unapologetically.

"Already done." Bellamy stated.

"What did you say?" she asked, curious.

"I told them you were pregnant with his love child and he was standing by your side like a good gentle-grounder." Bellamy grinned at her.

"You had better be joking." Clarke seethed.

Lincoln, to her surprise, started laughing. Bellamy seemed just as surprised as her, but before she could berate him some more, Raven burst into the tent.

"I think I've got it," she exclaimed excitedly, "There's a town, maybe fifteen miles South West of here called Front Royal. It's got a couple of old historic buildings that might still be standing."

"How appropriate," Bellamy teased, "A royal palace for our princess."

Raven sent him a disgusted look, but looked to Lincoln and addressed him next. "Do you think you could take a look at the map? See if it's outside of grounder territory?"

Lincoln nodded, sending Clarke a fleeting glance that somehow warmed her, before leaving with Raven. She looked to Bellamy who was still standing around looking a little baffled. "Just now realising he's as human as the rest of us, huh?"

Bellamy scowled at her and went to leave. "The supply depot, Bellamy. See if Raven can find one near by."

He grunted his yes, making her think of Lincoln, and followed after the pair.

She closed her eyes and lay back on the bed. She hadn't even been awake for long and her wound was already taking its toll on her energy. Hearing the rustle of the curtain door to her tent, she opened her eyes, expecting Lincoln to have popped back for something. Instead she saw Finn, hovering uncertainly at the threshold.

He looked like he hadn't slept – purple shadows bruising the underneath of his eye, expanding to a swollen blue-purple over his cheek. She didn't need to ask what it was from, as she had a sneaky suspicion the fighting didn't stop when she was delirious or wallowing in the blackness of her mind. He looked contrite. She didn't blame him entirely for what had happened – he hadn't meant to stab her – that she knew. But he had meant to hurt Lincoln. He had reached for that knife – upped the level of the fight to critical. And he hadn't listened to a word she said. If she was totally honest, she wasn't sure she was ready to see him yet. On some level, the way he'd behaved had actually scared her. He'd been beyond reason.

"Clarke," he sounded choked, taking a small step forward, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"I know, Finn," she decided to go for a truce, "I know you didn't mean to hurt me. It's okay."

He visibly let go of the tension he'd been holding and paced straight for her, reaching out. She quickly put up her hands to ward him off and he froze, looking bewildered.

"I forgive you for hurting me," she continued, "And I can forgive you for Raven. But things haven't changed between us – we're not together."

Something ugly flashed across Finn's expression and it gave her chills. "Me and Raven aren't together anymore. If you really forgive me, then there's nothing standing in our way."

"I forgive you, I do," Clarke expanded, appealing to him with a gentle smile, "But I haven't forgotten what you did. It's too late for us now – it's better if we're just friends."

"Is this about that savage?" he spat at her, his fists curled.

"He's not a savage." Clarke could feel her temper rising.

"He's not right for you," Finn fumed, "He's..."

"He is what?" Lincoln interrupted, entering Clarke's tent and manoeuvring himself between Clarke and the angry boy immediately.

Finn's nostrils flared and he grumbled under his breath. He sent Clarke a wistful look before backing out of the tent, his eyes hard upon Lincoln.

"Are you alright?" Lincoln asked her. His voice was restrained – she could tell he felt like beating Finn and she made a mental note to try and break him of the habit.

"Everything's fine," she assured him, "It's over with."

She sincerely hoped that was true, but Finn had been surprisingly her a lot lately. Lincoln looked at her sceptically, but decided to go with it.

"We have found a bunker, half a day's walk from here," he told her, "Bellamy and I will go together."

"That's great," Clarke said, feeling relieved, "If you give me ten minutes I can be ready to go."

"I think you may have a head wound," Lincoln sat on the side of her little nest and peered at her forehead thoughtfully.

"Very funny," she sighed, "But you two, out in the wilds alone? Not a comforting thought."

"Do you trust me?" he leant forward and moved his face closer to hers and she darted her eyes down to his lips. He was looming over her, like a show of strength, and his voice had that gruff tone she was coming to anticipate.

"Strangely, yes. I do." She reached out, gripping the sides of his face, and kissed him this time.

She softly caught the bottom of his lip between her teeth, and the sound of him groaning sent tingles shooting up her body. He intensified the kiss, one arm reaching for her hip, gripping it firmly, whilst the other supported his body weight over her injured side. Clarke's hands took on a life of their own – roaming across his broad shoulders and down his strong back to his narrow hips. She clung to them, caressing the bits of skin revealed when his top lifted slightly. The hand at her hip slowly moved up her ribs, taking her top with it.

Then the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly interrupted their moment and Clarke moaned a complaint. Lincoln pecked her lips a few times lightly before backing away. His eyes were molten and she'd never felt more alive. The second he was gone she missed his warmth and cursed Raven internally.

"Babysitter A, reporting for duty." she announced with a grin.

"The boy you call Spacewalker," Lincoln said sternly, shocking both girls, "He is not to come here. He is not to see her."

Raven's eyes were enormous, but she nodded her agreement. "That's cool – we'll create a Finn-free zone five feet around the tent."

Clarke laughed lightly. She wanted to protest having a babysitter, but didn't have the drive to argue with him when he'd just been so sweet.

"Who's Babysitter B?" she asked instead.

"That would be me," Octavia sprung into the tent, full of smiles.

"Hot grounder dude," she grinned at Lincoln.

He gave her a perplexed look and ignored her greeting, turning to Clarke. "Rest."

"Yes, sir," she sassed.

He sent her an uncompromising smile and left the three girls alone.

"Be careful." She yelled at his retreating back.

"So, girl time!" Octavia trilled, dragging one of the seats closer to Clarke, "I think we should play truth or dare."

Clarke groaned in misery.