WE HAVE A SEASON 3 RELEASE DATE! WOO. I'm fine. Anyway...This fanfiction is already a hundred pages long. Coincidence? I think not! Is the exchange still realistic? I really enjoy writing Bellamy and Clarke's interaction because I can make Bellamy as mean as he is in season one which causes tension. Woo. It leaves much opportunity for disagreement. Which means angst. I love angst. (Not my angst, I'm not sadistic.) And I love how right now, they're just using each other. XD Please review!

The girl had fallen quiet, her expression dazed and hollow. It was unsettling to Bellamy, who sat away from her in the storage chamber, sneaking curious glances her way. Bellamy knew she'd found something at Jaha's, which was evident in the paleness of her face, as if all the blood had just been leeched from her cheeks.

"See something you didn't like, Princess?" he asked mockingly, minutes later. He simpered. "You better get used to that feeling. You're not one of the privileged anymore."

Clarke looked at him, and he wasn't prepared for the haunted look he saw in her eyes. "Privileged...Tell me, is it a privilege to see your own father get floated?"

Bellamy faltered. But then he shrugged. So she wasn't a stranger to pain. She'd mourned the loss of someone; had felt their absence as if it had been carved from the heart and for a second, Bellamy was a good enough person to sympathize with her. But then that second was gone and he said, "Most of us have lost someone. I hate to break it to you, but you're nothing special. That's just how it works. For a lot of people."

Clarke smirked, but there was no humor in her features. "How about when you find out it was your own mother who got him executed?" she asked, toying absentmindedly with her wristband. "And that the person you did blame for it, sacrificed everything for you, only to realize that you weren't on the ground with them? And that it had all been for nothing?" she looked at him expectantly. "Is that how it works, too?"

Again, Bellamy felt that surge of empathy. Once, when he was younger, Bellamy had overheard his mother, in a moment of weakness, whisper words of regret about Octavia. Even as an adult now, he still couldn't understand how someone could say such a thing. They were wishes spurred by fear, but that didn't make them right. And that didn't make them anymore welcome in his world.

"Why are you telling me this?" Bellamy finally asked, narrowing his eyes at her. "I thought we agreed not to share anything personal."

"Because it needs to be real," she confessed. "And telling someone makes it real. The only other person who knows besides my mom and now me might be dead. I want someone to know, even if it's someone I don't actually like."

This girl was confusing. Strange, if not a little bewildering, but Bellamy would go along with it. For now. "Fine," he breathed. "I'll humor you. Why do you think your mom did it?"

Clarke peeled her head from the wall she'd been leaning against and met his eyes. "My dad knew something. About the Ark. About everyone. He thought people had the right to know it, but my mom thought it would cause a panic and do more harm than good. Simply put, my dad was executed for wanting to do the right thing."

"Is that why you didn't get on the dropship?"

She pulled her knees up and tucked them beneath her. "I'm my father's daughter. I won't have his death be in vain."

For once, Bellamy could appreciate this.

"Brave Princess," he mumbled. Or perhaps she was just stupid. His tone suddenly turned flat. "This secret of yours...is it really worth dying for?"

Clarke sighed. "Maybe not. If it was just my life on the line. But this is bigger than me and to stand back and let it fall apart, would just make me a coward." Her eyes instantly grew distant, haunted by some ghost he couldn't see. "And my father wouldn't be proud of a coward."

"So what now?" Bellamy asked, switching topics. She clearly didn't want to speak of her dad and he didn't try to push it. Why he suddenly felt respectful of boundaries, he didn't know. Sure, over the last few days, this girl had saved his life. But she'd also pissed him off along the way. He owed her nothing.

Her gaze snapped back to him and her expression turned stony. "Now? You're off the hook. You made good on our deal. We're done. You can leave whenever you want."

Bellamy felt oddly taken aback. But she was right of course; they were finished.

He shrugged. "Unfortunately for you, I have nowhere else to go. My destination is about a couple thousand miles beneath me and currently I have no method of getting there." His voice was jeering, but there was a tangible heaviness in his chest.

She peered at him curiously. "You were trying to get on the dropship for your sister, weren't you?"

There was little reason to hide it anymore and even though he tried to brush it off, he felt that nagging obligation to share something after what she'd just told him. "I've always protected her," he said it quietly, but he could tell she'd heard him.

Clarke gazed back at him almost appreciatively. "If you were just trying to get on the dropship, why did you shoot Jaha?"

The feeling of obligation vanished and resentment bubbled up inside Bellamy. He pinned her with a look. "You have your secrets, " he murmured, "I have mine."

She raised her shoulders. "Fair enough."

Bellamy crossed his legs, careful not to move his shoulder too roughly. It still hurt, but the agony had been reduced to a dull throb. "So tell me, Princess, what do you plan on doing next? After all, if so many lives depend on you like you claim, why are you still sitting around in a storage chamber?"

He didn't expect her to answer so forwardly, but as Bellamy was beginning to understand, she didn't do what he thought she would. This girl had a knack for the unpredictable. A propensity for the insane.

"The folder I wanted from Jaha's was locked," she replied. "I need to get the information from someone else."

Bellamy's eyebrows knitted in suspicion. "And how do you think you'll manage that? The only ones who have access to anything confidential are members of the Council. Are you involved with one of them, too?" He didn't meant for his voice to sound so caustic, but it did.

Clarke didn't rise to the bait, instead his words seemed to deflate her. "Even worse. I'm related to one who used to be a member."

Bellamy felt his eyes widen and disgust bloomed inside him. But he had to remind himself that it wasn't her fault who she was born to; Bellamy knew that better than anyone, other than his sister.

"The medical training..." He pieced it together and then eyed her conspicuously. "...Griffin?"

She gave a small nod.

"Your mother is Abby Griffin?" Bellamy couldn't quite keep the disbelief-the accusation-from his tone. "The Chief Medical Officer?"

No reply was necessary.

Bellamy let out a scoff, of incredulity and something close to disappointment. "You really are a princess, aren't you?"

Rich family. Privileged family. She'd even been locked up like the damsel in distress that belonged in the stories Bellamy had whispered to Octavia when she was a little girl.

Clarke pursed her lips but she didn't break from his gaze. "I know you think that. And maybe you're right. Some Station residents do unfairly get better opportunities than others. But I won't let you make me feel bad about where I come from. Not when I have my mom to remind me of it."

Moments of silence filtered between them as Bellamy studied her. "If you're looking for someone to feel sorry for you," he finally said, "I'm not that guy."

"Then it's a good thing I wasn't looking for that."

Bellamy drew a long breath, still not taking his eyes from hers. "So, you plan to go and face your mom, get what you need, and then what? You think that'll be it? If your mom was willing to turn in your dad, what makes you think she won't do the same to you?"

Maybe it was harsh. Maybe even cruel, but the words were out before Bellamy could stop them. He didn't even bother trying to.

But it didn't seem to anger her. Clarke's gaze just drifted away from him and landed on the ruined wall a few meters away. "Nothing," she whispered, and this time, Bellamy heard a crack in her voice. The first chink in this girl's otherwise meticulous armor. "I have no idea what my mom is capable of anymore."

Bellamy's eyes fell to his hands. There was that second of sympathy again and this time, it stuck around for a few more. When it had overstayed its welcome, Bellamy shoved it as far away from himself as he could. Sympathy on the Ark, for him, was a weakness. And any weakness here was death.

But he still pulled out a small packet of water he'd stolen from Jaha's. In one fluid movement, he sent it sliding across the floor to Clarke. It touched her foot and she glanced at it before her eyes went to him again.

"Your apartment may be guarded," he told her. "I'll help you get there, but only if you help me find some way of getting to the ground. I figure an ex-Council member is a good place to start."

Clarke stared at him quizzically, brows drawn in deliberation but it only took her a few moments to agree. Whether Bellamy liked it or not, the girl hadn't spent all her usefulness, and clearly, neither had he.

"But," his voice turned low and warning. "If you tell your mom about me, I will make good on my threats."

If Clarke was scared, she didn't show it. Instead, a sad smile played at the corners of her lips. "I already assumed that. Bellamy Blake."