CLARKE

Clarke Griffin rolled over in her bed and hit the button on her alarm just before the sound went off. She had a strange habit of always waking up right before it rang, but last night wasn't great for sleep. She'd been awake for an hour already anyways. Clarke looked across the room at her new SciTech roommate, Jemma, who was still asleep. Tactical had early morning combat training, which Clarke personally felt was just to break their spirits – there was no earthly reason why a person should be getting kicked in the face at 5am. So, Jemma and the rest of the SciTechs could sleep in later, whereas Clarke had to haul herself out of bed, regardless how little sleep she'd managed to get the night before. She slipped out of bed and chuckled softly as she glanced at Jemma again, the brainiac had fallen asleep with her textbook open on her face and the reading light still on. Clarke shook her head, in another life that could've been me, she thought, but not this one.

Clarke splashed her face with cold water in the bathroom and then quickly got dressed in her tactical combat uniform – which was essentially just her choice of all the glorified black workout clothes that the academy provided the tactical students with. S.H.I.E.L.D was nothing if not on brand, she thought. She dressed in the dark and headed out for her first day at the Academy.

The tactical students had combat training in a massive gymnasium down on the other end of the Academy base. When Clarke arrived most of the students were already there and lined up silently in a somewhat intimidating line against the back wall closest to the entrance. Clarke jogged over and took her place at the end of the line next to a pretty girl with olive skin in a black sports bra and leggings. The girl tossed her brown braids over her shoulder and smiled brightly at Clarke, "Hi!", she said "My name's Octavia!".

"Hi!" Clarke whispered, as nobody else was speaking, "I'm Clarke, are we supposed to be talking right now?"

Octavia rolled her eyes and gave a short laugh, "Oh who cares about that, I'm just ready to fight – aren't you?"

Clarke smiled, she was going to like this girl. "Sure, I guess so. Do you think they'll start us off right away with all that?"

Octavia made little fists at her side with her hands, "god, I fucking hope so", she gave Clarke a bit of a wild grin that made her feel that this was not somebody to mess with.

On Octavia's other side stood a tall, handsome boy with a similar olive complexion and a mop of curly brown hair on his head. He had a serious expression and seemed to roll his eyes at Octavia's overt excitement but didn't look at Clarke. She tried not to be offended about it. Tactical students were a mixed bunch.

The last few students jogged in and lined up on Clarke's other side, just as their combat instructor strode onto the already matted floor.

"Focus up!" she yelled in a commanding but not hostile tone, "You lot are training to be special forces field agents for S.H.I.E.L.D., this is not going to be a walk in the park. It's going to be difficult, the most difficult thing you've ever done in your life, and it's going to hurt- a lot. You'll leave practice limping, especially if you don't do what I say."

Clarke shot a glance down the line, some kids looked intimidated, some eager, some had vaguely frightening expressions that Clarke didn't want to read into. Octavia was staring at the instructor with rapt attention, hanging on her every word. The tall boy next to her was listening, but he almost seemed bored. Clarke flicked her eyes back to their instructor as she kept talking.

"I'm telling you all this to prepare you for what's out there. As a field agent you will see things, do things, you never thought possible. You'll be responsible for the lives of your teammates, and you'll also take lives when you have no other choice. Who you are today, and who you'll need to become to survive out there are very different things." She looked at them all standing there and a somber expression came over her face, she took a breath, "Alright! Square up in two lines and spar freestyle, three minutes each round. Row on the left will move down the line one person each round. If you go down, get up, watch and wait for the rotation – do better next time."

There was a somewhat frantic shuffling as the students followed her orders and organized themselves into two long parallel lines. Clarke found herself on the right, facing off against a large pale boy with straw colored hair.

"Remember" their instructor shouted over the noise, "this is a freestyle spar so that I can see what you're all made of, but do not seek to seriously injure or incapacitate your opponent. This is practice." She paused, for what Clarke thought might be dramatic effect, - and then "Begin!".

It was clear to Clarke from the very first swing that this boy was not her equal. He opened with a wide swinging lunge to her head, a movement so easy to side step, for just a moment she wondered if he was trying to trick her. But no, he just didn't realize his mistake. Clarke could have closed quarters and knocked him out right there, but she could use a warm-up she figured. They sparred lazily until just before the timer was called and Clarke could no longer help herself – she put the boy out of his misery.

Her second opponent was better than the first, but again, Clarke had no trouble dispatching him, and this time she did it quickly. As she stood around, stretching her arms over her head and waiting for the next rotation, she took the opportunity to check out the competition. Most pairs looked like they were holding their own against each other relatively well, but Clarke felt fairly confident that all those late nights running drills over and over in the gym until she was fighting in her dreams had finally paid off.

There were only two other people that had knocked down, and kept down, their second opponent as quickly as she had. Octavia, who was across from Clarke and one pair to the left – their next fight would be with each other. Octavia was already looking at Clarke, she grinned when Clarke noticed, and gave a little wave. Her opponent was groaning on the floor in front of her. Clarke smiled to herself, no surprises there, she thought.

The other person up and not fighting was the tall boy with the curly brown hair, who was still next to Octavia, Clarke would be scheduled to fight him after her. Even after two fights, he still looked bored, he could've been in line for a coffee. His opponent, a lanky boy with shifting eyes, was standing, but was nursing what Clarke was sure would turn into a nasty looking bruise on his right arm – he kept shooting the tall boy dark looks. There was something vaguely unsettling about him, but Clarke chalked it up to being a sore loser.

Suddenly the tall boy turned and caught Clarke looking his way, they made eye contact and – for just a second – Clarke could've sworn that he winked at her! But when she looked again it was like it'd never happened, he was staring at Octavia. The nerve of him, Clarke thought, and before she could figure it out their instructor called the time.

Octavia hopped excitedly into her place across from Clarke, who had a growing suspicion that this fight would be very different from her last.

"Hi friend!" Octavia gave Clarke another little joking wave and Clarke laughed at her.

"Funny seeing you here", she said.

Octavia smiled in return, but at that moment the instructor called time and Octavia closed the distance between them so fast, Clarke would have thought she could fly. Clarke got her forearm up just in time to block Octavia who was aiming for her upper ribs, but didn't see her leg coming, and took a kick hard in the stomach. Clarke stumbled back winded and then threw herself at Octavia with a renewed intensity. It hardly mattered, Octavia was a whirlwind. She danced around, landing hits on Clarke left and right. Meanwhile Clarke could hold her own to be sure, but she hardly put a mark on her partner. Octavia was having fun Clarke realized, she was holding back. They fought until the time was called without either technically winning, but Clarke wasn't fooled, she knew if this match was in the real world she wouldn't stand a chance against Octavia. That girl was born to fight.

Clarke bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. "You're fantastic", she said, "really".

Octavia smiled, she wasn't even sweating, and offered Clarke a hand, "Thanks girl, you are too, it's been a while since I've had an interesting fight".

Clarke tried to imagine the kind of person who would call a match like that just 'interesting' and shook her head. Octavia was clearly in a league of her own, she would be a great field agent.

"Have fun with this one" Octavia was moving to her next partner and gestured back with her head to the tall boy who was walking over to take his place across from Clarke.

"Shut up, O", he said in a surprisingly deep voice, but he was smiling at her.

Clarke noted the nickname, clearly something was going on between those two. Which, she supposed, made it even less likely that he really had winked at her – not that it mattered either way.

"Hey", she said, "I'm Clarke".

He nodded at her, "Bellamy".

Then the instructor's voice rang out and the fight was on.

Clarke reflexively brought her hands up in a defensive position, but then hesitated, Bellamy hadn't moved. He was staring at her intently, watching her every shift in posture and she had the sudden impression of a snake coiled and waiting to strike. Clarke decided to test her theory and feinted a quick jab to his left, aiming to place it just a breath away from his cheekbone. Bellamy didn't take the bait, his eyes never even left hers. Clarke smiled wryly and thought she just might understand what Octavia meant by an 'interesting fight' after all.

Clarke stepped slowly to her right, with intention this time, and across from her Bellamy mirrored her movements until they were slowly circling each other, eyes locked, in a tense shuffle. Clarke made the first move – spinning around to direct a sharp kick to his midsection, which Bellamy caught with both hands and would have used to knocked her off her feet if she hadn't bailed out at the last second. She changed course – making good on her previous promise of a swift punch to that cheekbone – and then quickly danced out of reach.

In Clarke's experience, normally after you punched someone in the face they backed off, but Bellamy only looked like she'd finally gotten his attention. He ran at her fiercely and they closed the distance between them with a flurry of quick blows before separating, once again, into their tense circling.

This time he ended their dance, by rushing her like a wrestler, head down, lifting her off the ground with the intent to drop her hard on her back. Before he could, Clarke used his own momentum against him – swinging her legs around behind him and pulling her torso back sharply, sending them both tumbling to the ground. They rolled away from each other, only to jump up and reengage with another lightning exchange of punches.

Clarke could feel time slowing down, the sounds of their classmates dimming to a light hum in the background, her own breath loud in her ears. The only thing that seemed real was Bellamy's next move – a fist flying at her from her left, she ducked, and returned the favor – she'd never been in a fight like this in her life. She could feel the constant tension and fatigue in her muscles as they fought for what seemed like a long time, but it couldn't be – the time hadn't been called yet. There was an intensity to him, Clarke thought as she dodged another blow and landed a hard kick to his back before spinning away, a quiet kind of aggressiveness that made him intimidating in a fight and nearly impossible to read. Still, her body seemed to know where he was going to be before he was there, and he her, they followed each other like dancers.

Bellamy widened his stance, Clarke saw an opportunity and lunged for his head with both hands, in a real fight she would have put far more power behind her jerking motion – which would snap a Hydra agent's neck - but Bellamy was a classmate, she wasn't planning to actually hurt him. He saw her coming and let her, which should've given her pause - but she wanted to win. With her hands on his neck, Bellamy took advantage of her unprotected abdomen and delivered a punishing blow.

Suddenly Clarke was on her back with the wind knocked out of her. She closed her eyes, Damn. When she opened them a second later, she was staring up at Bellamy. There was a smattering of tiny brown freckles across his face she hadn't noticed before.

"Are you okay?", he was reaching out a hand to help her up.

She swatted his hand away lightly, peeved she'd lost their match. "If that were a real fight, I would've killed you", she grumbled.

He smiled wryly, "Lucky for me then".

As they both straightened up and looked around, Clarke felt a dropping sensation in her gut like vertigo. They were alone on the mats, the rest of the class and the instructor in a wide circle around them, staring. Clarke and Bellamy shared an awkward glance. Neither of them had noticed that their match had gone on longer than everybody else's, much longer apparently. The rest of the students were looking at the two of them with slightly stunned expressions. Clarke caught Octavia's eye, she was quietly trying to suppress a grin.

"Well", their instructor broke the silence finally, "I hope you were all paying attention to these two just now. That's how you should treat every fight; like nothing else exists in the world but the person trying to kill you."

Clarke shuffled uncomfortably and shot another look at Bellamy. He was looking straight ahead and not acknowledging her, but his ears were bright red.

The bell rang, signaling the end of first period and everyone bustled off to change for their History of Artillery class.