A year from now, we'll all be gone,
All our friends will move away.
And they're going to better places,
But our friends will be gone away.
- The Head and the Heart
140 days after, The Ground
Clarke dry heaved onto the sand.
Nothing came up - which would be a good thing, considering she needed everything in her stomach to stay there in order for her to survive. It was more a reminder of how bad the situation actually was.
It'd been months since Praimfaya and the fated launch of Raven's rocket. Months during which Clarke had cycled through every emotion imaginable, the most prevalent being an unbearable ache in her chest for a certain dark-haired man. She'd scrounged up protein snacks from Becca's lab, treated the millions of boils on her skin with what was left of the antiseptic from her med kit, and opened the door.
"If the air's toxic, we're all dead anyway," echoed soundlessly as she'd blinked back the stars in her eyes and shielded her face from the bright sun. Since that moment, she'd been surviving. Luck was on her side for some of that time. It tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at the tiny square of black peeking beneath the sand, gifting her the rover. Then, Luck took pity on her, shed tears in the form of rain and gave her drinking water for a few, precious days. Even now, it drew her gaze to the radio.
"Bellamy." Clarke's arm shook with the effort to hold the button. "I don't know if I can do this. The bunker's buried, the storm took out the solar panels on the rover, and I'm a day from running out of food and water."
She paused, feeling her stomach pinch once more and swallowing the bile that rose like lava. "It's horrible here. There's just sand. No oceans, no trees, no life. Just...nothing." Her eyes drooped with the wave of heat that washed over her body and seared into the cracks lining her lips. She ran her tongue along them, the relief lasting three seconds before evaporating.
"I think if I were to die, I'd want to do it in my sleep, you know? I figure I'm owed peace in my final moments." She gripped the staff she'd scavenged from the wreckage in Polis - from Lexa's throne - and considered it warily. In her heat-addled mind, it morphed into something more technological, metallic. She shook her head and the staff snapped back to wood. She pressed the button again, "or maybe I don't deserve that. Peace, I mean. I've done too many terrible things to deserve that." She sighed, releasing the call button and shoving the radio back into her backpack.
He never replied. No one did. But the potential of it all was the morsel of hope that she needed to continue.
She could hear herself scoff, "You still have hope?"
"We're still breathing."
Except her breaths came in low, rattling gasps through the thin cloth she'd wrapped around her head. The sandy landscape swam in front of her - orange and hazy yellow morphing like jam. It was so dizzying that she almost missed it.
A black shape hurtled from thin air in the corner of her vision. What-
Then she heard it, a bird's cry. She shook her head, pinched her nose, and squeezed her eyes shut before turning around. And there it was: a huge black crow hopped on the ground just 5 feet from her, cocking its head and peering at her with beady eyes.
"Where are you from? How are you alive?" she whispered, shifting closer to it. The crow startled and took off. Clarke didn't hesitate and sprinted up the sand drift it'd disappeared behind. Her heart pounded. She clawed up the remaining feet of sand and-
Desert. For miles. There was absolutely no sign of life anywhere.
Clarke let out an anguished scream.
"I'm DONE. DO YOU HEAR ME?" She sobbed to the sky. "I'VE. LOST. EVERYTHING! My friends , my father , my mother! I've got nothing left." The oppressive heat made it so her voice didn't travel, not that it would have mattered. There was no one. Clarke felt, for perhaps the first time since emerging from the bunker, true loneliness.
It struck her hard, or maybe it was already there, a parasite growing in her chest. She gasped, breathing quickly and heavily. The pain consumed her, blocked her throat, and - had she any to spare - she felt the ghosts of tears prick the corners of her eyes.
"I can't, I can't," she gasped, clutching her heart. Slowly, she lowered herself to the sand and closed her eyes, willing it to be over. God, if only it could just end.
Then, she remembered the gun. It'd be faster, painless. Easier than falling asleep. A wave of serenity washed over her as she acknowledged what she was about to do. Her breaths evened.
She let herself slide down the sandhill to her bag. She pulled the pistol from its spot by the radio, trembling. She cocked it and raised the barrel to her head, taking a deep breath. She thought of Bellamy, of his soft eyes and lips on hers. She closed her eyes.
"Ai gonplei ste odon."
10 days before, The Ground
"You should go with her." Roan and Bellamy stood at the back of the rover, watching the other three get the boat ready to sail to Becca's island. Without turning to him, Bellamy spoke.
"She'll be fine. Besides, they need me back at Arkadia." Roan chuckled humorlessly.
"Skaikru, like everyone, will die in ten days whether you are in Arkadia or not. Go with Wanheda." Bellamy crossed his arms and glanced sideways at the Azgedan king. Roan studied the boat, eyes narrowed.
"You can't drive," sighed Bellamy. He watched as Clarke heaved the last barrel of fuel onto the boat. She sensed his gaze and looked up, sending him a small smile.
"I've seen you drive enough to manage it. If I crash, we're all dying-"
"Dying in ten days anyway. Yeah, I got it," Bellamy huffed as Murphy started the motor.
"Go. I trust Clarke - I don't need to be here."
"And I do?" Bellamy finally turned to Roan, searching him for a sign of brewing betrayal. There was none.
"Roan! Time to go!" Clarke called. Roan looked him in the eye and nodded.
"I'll return the rover to your people. Go." He reached out his arm and, after a moment of hesitation, Bellamy gripped it with his own.
"May we meet again." Roan stared hard at him before letting go. Without looking back, Bellamy descended the beach to the boat. Clarke stopped him before he could hop on.
"Why isn't he coming?"
"He said he trusted you to do the right thing," he shrugged and stepped away from her. She clenched his arm, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Why aren't you going back to Arkadia?"
He looked away from her and out to the sea. The wind blew his hair away from his face and he suppressed a shiver. "I need to be here."
"Bellamy, our people-"
"Will be fine," he said, turning back to her. He met her eyes, imploring her to understand. They were so blue, so fierce - it was like looking into the sun. It was difficult to not look away. After a moment, she let go, sighing in resignation. They boarded together.
...
"There's nothing for you to help with here," said Abby, brushing Clarke's hair aside. They'd arrived on the island only to find everyone in limbo, awaiting the samples. Bellamy leaned on the railing at the bottom of the stairs, trying and failing to look like he wasn't paying attention to Clarke and her mom's reunion.
"Go, both of you. Take showers, eat, and we'll figure this out when you get back." Abby tilted her head towards Bellamy and smiled encouragingly at Clarke.
"Okay."
...
Becca's house was the most extravagant place Bellamy had ever been. Everything looked like a picture out of a movie or a book. It was unlike anything else on earth that he'd seen. Mount Weather couldn't even hold a flame to this. It was everything his younger self hated about the world. His current self, however, couldn't give a fuck. It'd be blown up in ten days just like the rest of the world.
Murphy and Emori were cooking. He offered something to Clarke, who exclaimed praise upon tasting whatever it was.
"Shower's upstairs. Down the hall," Bellamy didn't miss the wink Murphy gave to Clarke. "Help yourselves." He definitely didn't miss the way Clarke's face went red as she mumbled thanks.
...
The bed was huge. Like big enough to fit five people, let alone two, huge. Beside him, Clarke had frozen as well. Bellamy let out a breath and nudged her shoulder with his own.
"If only the Ark had dropped us here." Clarke noticeably relaxed beside him and laughed.
"Right, because the AI who destroyed the world is so much better than Mountain Men and homicidal grounders." Bellamy mentally smacked himself.
"I forgot this was where Jaha found her." Clarke snorted and moved into the room. He watched as she trailed her hand on the soft covers of the bed. Something warm stirred in his chest.
"I figured," she said nonchalantly, gazing around the room. Bellamy saw the bathroom right as she did.
"You can go-"
"Go ahead-" They looked at each other and laughed. Bellamy jerked his head, "Go. I'll wash up after you." She grinned and nodded in thanks before walking in and closing the door behind her.
...
The shower felt like heaven; though Clarke knew it couldn't be, seeing as she was going to hell. She sighed with happiness, massaging the lavender scented soap into the tangled mess she called her hair. Clumps of mud and leaves trickled to the floor. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cleaned herself - so much had happened recently that she hadn't bothered to care. She felt a twinge of embarrassment as thoughts of the long road trips with Bellamy flitted across her mind.
As she let the water run, she thought more about her co-leader. Her memory forgot nothing. She remembered seeing him for the first time, hair slicked back and so, so arrogant. Remembered forgiving him after Dax. Remembered Charlotte and Atom. Shutting the dropship door, seeing him for the first time after that - sprinting to him and feeling right again when he hugged her back, hard.
But she left. She ruined what was right with him. No matter what she did or what he said, she couldn't take back the fact that she'd left him.
Back on that beach, before discovering Luna's rig, Clarke had told him that they'd be able to get through everything as long as they were together. It wasn't Bellamy who needed to hear that, she realized.
She didn't notice she was crying until she turned the water off. She let herself slide to the floor, pressing her palms to her eyelids. She'd been the one to hurt them every time. She shut the door. She sent him into Mount Weather. She didn't tell Octavia to get out of TonDC. She left him . He helped her pull that damn lever and she still fucking left him. Everything he'd done since was a reaction to her. Those deaths were on her too.
Distantly, she heard a knock on the bathroom door. Bellamy's low voice called hesitantly from the other side.
"Clarke? You okay?" She couldn't move from her spot on the floor of the shower. She heard the door open and Bellamy entered cautiously. He didn't look her way, but she knew he knew where she was.
"Bellamy?" she croaked. "I killed them, didn't I? That Trikru army?"
"What- Clarke, no," he sounded confused and sad and angry - she knew he felt all three and then some. Because she knew him. "What's this about?"
"I left you," she whispered. Another tear trickled down her cheek. "It wouldn't have happened if I'd stayed." To that, he was silent. Then:
"I killed those people Clarke, not you. I made that choice. And I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life," his tone was hard, final. "You don't get to bear that for me."
"I'm sorry I left."
"I know." On the other side of the frosted glass of the shower walls, she saw his silhouette sit and put a hand to the door. On her side, she placed her own against his. They stayed there, quiet, for some time. It was Bellamy who broke the silence.
"Jeez, how long does a princess need to shower?" She scoffed, but couldn't help but grin at the old nickname.
...
The bed was as soft as it looked. Clarke's eyes drooped as soon as her back hit the mattress. She felt the bed tilt as Bellamy laid down on his half. She heard his contented sigh and smiled.
"What's one thing you want to do before you die?" asked Bellamy. She tried to hide her surprise at his question.
"You mean...like within the next week?" She turned over and studied his profile, which remained carefully neutral as he stared up at the ceiling.
"No, more..." he paused, "if we weren't us and Earth wasn't like this. " She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she and Bellamy were just one foot apart on a very comfortable bed. It was at that moment that she realized that 1) it didn't matter whether his stupid scenario was real or not, and 2) in either world, she'd want to be here with him, in this moment. She felt her heartbeat flutter.
Seemingly unaware of this epiphany she was having, Bellamy turned on his side to face her. She physically felt the heat rushing to her face as she took in his freckles and his eyebrows and the tiny scar above his lip. Her eyes roamed his face hungrily before settling on his eyes. Warm and rich like tea, they held her in place. He blinked and his expression became unreadable.
"I'd want to be here." Unable to come up with anything remotely creative in her current state, Clarke opted for honesty. Her eyes dropped to his neck, where his Adam's apple bobbed.
"Clarke…" he rasped, his voice low and soft. She looked up, but his gaze was no longer there. Instead, his lashes fluttered to her lips. Clarke gently pushed herself closer to him, eyeing him for any indication that he was opposed to what she was going to do. A breath's width away, she stopped, waiting. It was Bellamy who closed the gap.
Her lips fell comfortably onto his and she felt pleasure spread across her chest. He nodded his head with hers as they explored this newness. She grabbed his bottom lip with her teeth and used her tongue to sooth the spot. This seemed to be Bellamy Blake's undoing.
He moaned into her mouth and if the kiss before was sweet and tender, this was passionate and free. Her hands moved up into his hair, massaging his curls frantically, as if she'd never feel them again.
Their clothes disappeared and, after staring fondly at the other, Clarke let him lower her beneath him. The look he gave her was searing as she pulled his face back to hers. He scattered kisses down her neck and pleasure pooled in her stomach.
Eventually, when the pleasure reached a crescendo, they saw stars.
140 days after, The Ground
"Ai gonplei ste odon."
Clarke's finger was hovering over the trigger when she felt it.
Something lurched in her stomach. She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes, peering down. She felt it again.
Clarke lowered the gun.
Her mind went into doctor mode. How long had it been since her last cycle? When had she last had…? Horrific realization dawned on her.
She'd assumed her stomach was distended from a lack of food and water. And the nausea she'd attributed to radiation poisoning. Never had she considered this.
She was pregnant.
