A/N: As always, muchas gracias for all the reviews, favourites and follows – I really love getting them - the support is beautiful and so are you! Especially thank you to the guest reviewers I don't get to message back properly! As an aside – I'm so sorry for the delays in getting chapters out at the moment – writer's block is alive and well in this mind, but I'm working on it – I've also been helping my mum move house which is thankfully over!
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 Eight
Clarke
Clarke squinted at the weak sunlight filtering through the grey and red parachute fabric forming the some-what circular walls of her tent. She could hear the faint trill of birds in the tree tops, and the soft sounds of early risers seeking their breakfast. She was also feeling extraordinarily warm and snug due to the muscular arm Lincoln had settled over her torso to draw her into his chest, and the heavy leg nestled over both of hers. She'd slept on her back to protect her healing side, using his bicep as a pillow, and she'd woken with her face pressed into his neck so the tip of her nose was touching his skin. He smelt of the forest – earthy and fresh – and every time she took a breath she relaxed deeper into the furs cocooning them.
She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to happily drift. It was just so genuinely nice to not feel so alone. She had felt that with Finn, for a brief time – a sense of solidarity, a common purpose and attraction. Except there was something about Lincoln that made her feel all of those things, yet she also felt protected…and cherished – two sensations she didn't even know she valued until he started giving them to her.
Clarke knew it was unusual, the connection they'd developed in a short span of time. But things happened on earth at such an accelerated pace. They were all constantly adjusting to this new reality – struggling to both survive and find a reason to want to. The rest of her people might find it a little confusing…a little bizarre that she was connected to a grounder – their fast growing enemy – yet they'd adapt. If there was one thing they were all finding they possessed in spades, it was adaptability.
It wasn't as though Clarke would even know what to say if someone did ask her about Lincoln. They'd never really talked about it, defined it or questioned it – it had sort of sprung into existence – these potent, irrefutable feelings. Maybe they should have, for their own sake, but there never seemed to be time.
"What troubling thought is causing those wrinkles to dance across your forehead?" Lincoln's voice was gruff with sleep and his breath tickled the top of her hair.
Clarke smiled contentedly and tilted her head back to stare into his dark half-lidded eyes.
"I was thinking about us." She whispered.
"And that made you frown?" The arm around her waist tightened.
"No," Clarke corrected. "It made me wonder."
Lincoln jostled her closer so she turned onto her good side, and he tilted his chin down to gaze into her eyes. Her hands burrowed against his warm skin like they had a mind of their own. She didn't think she'd ever get over how powerful his gaze could be. "What did it make you wonder?"
"Whether we're crazy to feel this way." Clarke blurted, searching his eyes. Lincoln frowned down at her and she hurried to explain.
"We're supposed to be enemies, yet you saved me…twice actually. You cared for me when I was hurt. You protected me…you still do protect me. You became an outcast to your people…for me. Now we're here…sharing a tent, and we hardly even know each other." Clarke took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He didn't speak for a while – just enough time for anxiety to fester, and she began wishing she'd never spoken of her insecurities at all. Then he moved forward and kissed her temple, keeping his lips against her skin so his words gently swept over her. She closed her eyes in relief and her untrapped hand gripped his back.
"Crazy would be to ignore what grows between us. It is rare – to feel so strongly for another. In times of war, this is even more so." His hand drifted up and around from her hip, settling between her shoulder blades to press their chests together, making Clarke's breath hitch. The fingers of the arm she still lay on slid through her fanned out hair to grip the base of her neck. "My Heda, my people – they say that love is a weakness. I see none of that weakness in you. When I saved you that first time, I knew then I would not let you go – and I stand by that."
Clarke grinned at him shyly. It wasn't a declaration of love, she knew that, but it made her feel warm and bashful all the same. "That's good, because I'm not letting you go either."
Lincoln's eyes burned and he pulled her into a kiss – it was deep and passionate, the kind that spread tingles from her lips all the way to the bottom of her spine, and Clarke felt like little pieces of her soul flew away and attached themselves to his for safe keeping. It was both scary and thrilling, pretty much akin to everything she shared with him.
He growled slightly when he pulled away and the hand at her back moved over her neck and shoulders to tenderly grip her chin. "You are wrong, also – we do know each other."
Clarke looked at him a little dazed and he told her – his voice thick. "I know that you are brave, compassionate, and beautiful. Here," he swept his fingers over her cheek," and here," his hand drifted to rest against her heart which started to beat faster of it's own accord. "I know you are a respected healer, and that your people listen to you because they sense your strength and your integrity. I know you are accepting, and fair – and most of all, forgiving."
His words sent a rush of affection through her. She had known, before this, that he had probably been watching the camp - watching them. It was a classic strategy when facing an unknown entity – reconnaissance 101. There was no other way he could have known who she was, or cared enough to save her the first time without that knowledge. That he had taken such an interest in her as an individual was humbling.
"You're right," she told him, a teasing smile curving her lips, and she brought the hand tucked between them up to hold his cheek, "I know that you're protective, and fierce, and loyal – and your loyalty is not blind. I know that you are a valiant warrior who makes me feel incredibly safe, and that you are a good man with a strong heart."
"Then you will stop wondering." He ordered. Clarke muffled her laugh against his neck at his imperious tone.
"I think you're beautiful too." She said the words gently against his skin.
He grunted. "I'm a man. Men aren't beautiful." It set Clarke into a round of giggles – God, did it feel good to have something to laugh about. He rolled his eyes at her and hugged her close as she calmed down.
"Do you miss your people?" She tilted her lips up to murmur into his ear. His hand slid to the back of her neck again and he buried his fingers in her hair to keep her where she was.
"Some." His voice rumbled and she felt the vibrations through their joined chests. She drew back again to watch his expression. His face was impassive – stoic. His eyes - they were like two deep, heated pools of black – hard to read and intensely focused.
She lifted a hand up to run it across his scruffy jaw and met his forceful gaze. "What about if we tried for peace? Would your Heda listen?"
"I'm not in a position to negotiate for peace. Anya might be reasoned with, but she is much angered by your presence – many are, and she must listen to the rumblings of her people." The corners of his lips turned down.
"What does that mean?" Clarke asked worriedly.
"I know much of war strategy – she will be planning retaliation. I have not returned as I should have done and she will know by now that I am a splita. But if you ask it of me, I will go."
"No." Clarke shook her head in fervent denial. "It's not worth the risk."
"If we were to do it, we must do it soon."
"No." Clarke repeated firmly. "Let's stick to the plan for now – we'll scout the new location, and if everything is safe, we'll move out of the Woods Clan territory. That ought to buy us some time, then we can try for a truce."
Lincoln pulled her in for another kiss – it was teasing this time and her toes curled at the laziness of it. "If we must." He said gruffly.
"We must." She chuckled against his lips – peppering the sides of them with little kisses.
"How do you say 'my warrior' in trigedasleng?" The look he gave her was enough to make a person spontaneously combust, as it was she felt a familiar heat eclipse her skin.
"Ai gona." He rumbled.
Clarke pulled both hands up to cradle his face and she stared into his blazing eyes, her words sincere. "Ai gona."
"Yun." (Yours) Lincoln growled, before rolling to her to her back and swallowing her words with his hungry mouth.
Bellamy
Bellamy watched Miller correct Raven's shooting stance for the third time in as many minutes and waited for the imminent outburst. After ascertaining Miller was a decent shot, the two of them had started training select camp members, as trustworthy and responsible ones as they could find, and had been at it for the better part of an hour. Bellamy was definitely thankful the abundance of trees made for multiple large targets to practise on, because they weren't nearly ready to be let loose on the world.
Most people he'd trained had been pretty lousy to begin with, but the more they practised the better they got – some of them were even hitting the right tree now. And a blessed few were naturals – Raven was one of these. Which meant there wasn't anything wrong with the way she was standing, and he had a feeling Miller knew that too. It was just an excuse to rub her nerves raw and Bellamy didn't really want to be in the middle of it, even if it was funny as hell.
He wasn't disappointed when moments later the zero-g mechanic turned her gun on Miller, causing him to back away with his hands in the air. It probably would have been fine, if he hadn't chosen that moment to smirk unrepentantly and step forward with an outstretched hand to alter her grip minutely.
"Maybe it's the target that's the problem," Raven snarled, pulling the gun away from Miller, "Why don't I try a moving one and see if my stance bears up to your expert scrutiny?"
"I don't know, Raven." Miller demurred. "That might be too challenging for you at this stage. But if you let me, I can show you how it might be done."
If fury were something both visible and tangible, it would be in the steam rising from Raven's entire being. She took up a steady shooting stance, her shoulder pulled back, and got Miller in her sights.
"Alright!" Bellamy supressed his laughter, but he put as much authority into his voice as possible. "That's enough you two – stop flirting."
"Flirting?!" Raven spat the words like they'd tasted nasty. "Put your puppy on a leash, Bellamy, or else."
"I told you she liked me." Miller nodded sagely. "Bondage is a sign of true love."
He wasn't surprised when Raven threw the gun to the ground and stormed off, muttering expletives under her breath.
He glanced at Miller to find him watching Raven's retreat with a thoughtful look on his face. "Are you serious with this? You're like an accident waiting to happen."
"As a grounder attack." Miller grinned and turned to help Harper.
Bellamy sighed and looked back at the hodgepodge of tents forming the main part of their camp to see Clarke finally emerge from her tent.
"About time, Princess!" Bellamy called out to get her attention.
She blushed and hurried over to him, her eyes pleading with him to stop talking. He watched Lincoln emerge moments later, his eyes immediately homing in on Clarke as if he hadn't just spent all night with her. Bellamy recognised the possessive look Lincoln sported, and whereas before it might have made him wary, he was beginning to come around to the idea of Lincoln being on their side.
"Is that a love bite on your neck?" He teased the minute she reached him.
Clarke's hand shot up but faltered mid air when she realised he was only messing with her. Bellamy laughed delightedly when she scowled in irritation. She always made it too easy for him.
"I like this look on you, Princess." Bellamy said honestly. "Makes you seem more human."
"I am human, Bellamy. It's the rest of you I'm not so sure of." Clarke laughed when he gave her a surprised look. He'd been expecting her to get in a snit, not make a joke. Seemed whatever was happening between her and Lincoln was softening some of her edges, and he had to say he liked it.
"So, how many people are we thinking for this scouting party? Eight?" Bellamy said a number off the top of his head.
"Sure," Clarke agreed, "Seems like a safe enough number. You, me, and Lincoln – who else?"
He eyed her stomach like he could see her wound through the fabric and inevitable bandages. "Should you really be going that far so soon?"
"I'll be fine," she assured him, waving her hand to dismiss his concern. "Octavia will probably want to come too, especially if you tell her she can't, but we should leave Miller and Raven behind in charge – I'm not sure I trust anyone else to keep this lot in line."
Bellamy rolled his eyes in resignation, knowing she was right about his sister, but snickered at the reactions the latter two were going to have to Clarke's suggestion. "Harper and Jasper – they're both decent shots. Dax and Stirling too."
"Okay, so that's eight of us, we're all set then." Clarke affirmed. "I'll get Lincoln and O – you inform the rest. Meet back up in twenty?"
"O?" Bellamy looked at her in curiosity over the casual way she said Octavia's nickname. It spoke of a fondness he hadn't known existed. Hell, he didn't even know they were friends.
"The power of girl-time, Bellamy." Clarke grinned. "Never let it be underestimated."
"Right." He muttered, feeling a little bit lost.
"Don't forget rations and a tent – we might not make it back tonight."
Bellamy shook his head as he watched Clarke flounce off. Women were too confusing for him sometimes – it was easier just to nod and pretend he knew what they were talking about.
Clarke
Clarke slowly hitched her backpack onto her shoulders, taking great care with her side so she didn't aggravate the wound, and walked into the dropship in search of Raven. Her newest friend hadn't been delighted to be left behind on this adventure, and even less so when told she had joint authority with Miller in their absence. She wasn't in sight, and Clarke wasn't too surprised considering Raven seemed to be avoiding Miller and Miller was loitering close by, but Monty was there, tinkering with the radio again – his ear was pressed firmly against the speaker but all Clarke could hear was repetitive white noise.
"Hey Monty." Clarke called. He shook his head slightly and smiled at her in greeting.
"I know you're probably tired of being asked, but any luck with the radio?"
Clarke watched his smile disappear and he leaned forward to whisper hastily. "I think something's interfering with our signal."
"Like, someone's blocking incoming transmissions on the Ark?" she questioned, her brows furrowed.
"No," Monty looked spooked. "Like someone is blocking it on our end."
"But, who could be doing that?" Clarke felt a shiver run down her spine.
"I don't know." Monty shook his head again. "But it's not good."
Clarke left Monty to his experiments feeling like the light-hearted happiness with which she'd started her day was slowly being leached away. She joined the others waiting for her at the gate and was immediately swept into Lincoln's protective side.
"I do not like this." He grumbled in her ear.
"This is too important," she placed her arm around his waist in reassurance, "I need to be there to make sure it's the right place for our people."
"I know that." Lincoln squeezed her to him. "But I still don't like this."
"Let's get this show on the road!" Octavia exclaimed, one fist pumping the air.
Clarke laughed at her perpetual enthusiasm for life – but then, that's probably because Octavia had never had a chance to live before. Coming to the ground might have been life changing for the rest of them simply because it was Earth and not the Ark, but for Octavia, it was life changing because she didn't have to hide under floorboards, remain enclosed in one room all the time, and only converse with two family members.
"Tone it down, Octavia." Bellamy grumbled. "This isn't an adventure."
"Everything on earth is an adventure." She declared.
The eight of them set off without fanfare - Octavia gambling ahead and Bellamy rushing to stay close to her, curses spilling from his lips. She and Lincoln followed, sharing an amused look, whilst Harper seemed to be doing her best to flirt with Jasper behind them, with Dax and Stirling silently bringing up the rear. When some of Octavia's zest for life waned in the monotony of hours walking through the forest, alert for danger so not truly able to enjoy it, they caught up with the pair of them and walked as one.
Octavia prattled away to the three of them, talking about the bioluminescent butterflies she thought they could capture and use as night lights, the same way people used to capture fireflies. Clarke tried to explain that aside from the fact she thought it was only kids who used to catch fireflies as a hobby, it would also be a pretty cruel thing to do, but Octavia was convinced it would work. Clarke amusingly took note of the way Lincoln and Bellamy periodically glanced at each other, as though sharing mutual commiseration on their misfortune of being stuck with girls for a long period of time.
When Lincoln took her arm to help her climb over a fallen tree, she gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little distracted by the weapon slung over her shoulder as it bumped against his side.
She reached out to touch his elbow. "I sense you're really not happy about the guns – will you tell me why?"
Lincoln's eyes jolted to meet hers and he looked like he was contemplating something – searching for the right words. Bellamy must have overheard and looked back at them. "He says the Mountain Men will rain down destruction on his people if they pick up a weapon."
"He can speak for himself." Lincoln growled.
Bellamy rolled his eyes but turned his back and kept walking to give them some measure of privacy.
"It's true." Lincoln explained, his eyes searching the forest ahead of them. "We are told the story as children, meant to warn us away from using any weapons such as those if we were to find them. I always believed it, as do the rest of my people, but…"
"But you have seen us use them, and nothing bad has happened." Clarke finished.
Lincoln nodded, but his tone was serious. "Nothing…yet."
Clarke wondered how much this was worrying him, and how much of a threat these unknown people really were. "These Mountain Men, what can you tell me about them?"
Bellamy and Octavia looked back at her and Lincoln, and she got the impression they were all hanging on his words.
"They come down from their impenetrable mountain to steal our people, never to be seen again – they bring on the fog to send us fleeing." Lincoln spat the words through gritted teeth. "They are without honour and a deadly enemy."
Clarke gasped, drawing some dangerous conclusions. "Mount Weather?"
Lincoln nodded, his eyes fierce. Clarke reached out her hand and linked her fingers with his. She didn't know what to say, her mind spinning in a dozen directions at once. It felt even more imperative that they remove themselves from the immediate area if the grounders weren't the only danger they had to contend with. If the acid fog was a weapon deployed by these Mountain Men, then they were much more technologically advanced than the other inhabitants of earth. Which brought up even more questions about what they were capable of…what other dangers they would have to face.
Clarke shuddered. "Monty thinks someone is interfering with our radio transmission to the Ark. Do you think these mountain men could do that?"
"It is highly likely." Lincoln looked apologetic. "Your presence will not have gone unnoticed."
"No way!" Octavia screeched excitedly, breaking the heavy silence.
Clarke looked up in confusion when Octavia darted forward. They were at the end of their section of the forest, and before them lay a vast grass plain with a circular grove of trees at it's centre. The trees were not overly large, and seemed to be growing in neat rows, suggesting they'd been planted that way for a purpose. But Octavia wasn't staring at the trees, her focus was on something at her feet. She knelt over to grasp it and brought it up for their collective inspection.
"Of course." Clarke laughed, sharing the other girl's excitement. "Apples!"
"Awesome!" Jasper exclaimed, running forward when the second half of their group caught up. "You know what this means?!"
"Eh...food?" Bellamy snarked.
"No." Jasper's grin looked like it might split his face. "Cider!"
He snatched the apple from Octavia's palm and ran for the tree grove, laughing when she started chasing after him yelling, "Finders keepers!"
Clarke grinned at Lincoln and Bellamy. "Looks like it's apples for lunch...and dinner…and breakfast."
They all eagerly followed the frolicking pair and reached for pieces of fruit of their own. Clarke pulled one straight from the first snarled tree bough she reached, examining the green globular fruit with interest. She took a cautious bite, enjoying the crunchy sound it made, and closed her eyes with a groan – it wasn't the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted. But it was so crisp and fresh and tart on her tongue that she could definitely say it was the sweetest experience.
When she opened her eyes Lincoln was standing close, watching her with those dark eyes of his, his apple forgotten in his hand as it hung limply by his side.
"Do that again." He growled quietly.
Clarke blushed and looked around, seeing everyone else preoccupied with feasting on their find. She took the step needed to close the distance between them and brought the apple up to her mouth for another bite. The minute she swallowed the fruit it's taste was merged with his. He kissed her like it was the only sustenance he needed, like she was the apple in this scenario and every fricking time, and it never failed to ignite her body. His arms cradled her tenderly, an antithesis to the ferocity of his claiming mouth, and Clarke clung to his shoulders.
Because of their intensity it took a moment for her to pick up on the hush that had descended over their group. She broke away from Lincoln with a rueful smile, thinking they were being watched, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at the horrific, animal snarl breaking the quiet. Lincoln stiffened against her, and Clarke had never felt so frightened in her life when the growls grew in number, and a pack of wild dogs crept stealthily across the clearing towards them – their hackles raised and a vicious, hungry gleam in their eyes.
A/N: Please let me know what you think of this chapter by reviewing!
