Hi again! I didn't expect to post a new drabble up so soon, but with the new episode today and the promo for next week's episode, emotions ran pretty high. This one was again inspired by a tumblr text post of something someone wanted to see, and it inspired me to write it out. I hope you like it! Please review and tell me what you think! =]
The plan rested on him getting in. He was in, but he had no idea how to get out, or how to save everyone else in the process. They had been going at this for hours and he had bits of consciousness what seemed like every couple of hours or so. He lost track of time. He could've been in there for two days or two weeks. Time couldn't be kept when you blacked out for extended periods of time. He woke up, blinking to better control his fuzzy vision. Bellamy found himself upside down again, hanging from huge pipes in the ceiling. Blood was rushing through his head and he could feel it trying to make its way back to his heart.
He'd never been through this kind of torture before. They more than poked and prodded; they sprinkled cold water on him, monitored his reactions, pulled out a tooth or two and gave him injections full of liquids he didn't know. Each new experiment they did on him only brought on new kinds of pain, things he didn't even know were possible to feel. He felt like he was dying, only he knew that they had to keep him alive. These experiment weren't for nothing, they were going to use him for something, one way or another.
The only thing that brought him sporadic relief was thinking about the one person he knew was counting on him, the person he knew believed in him, even though she was the reason he was here in the first place. She wouldn't have sent him down here if she didn't think it were possible right? She was his partner, his co-leader. He could trust her, after everything they had been through on earth, after the teasing and distrust from belonging to different worlds that existed on the same ship, Bellamy knew that he allowed himself to feel more than trust for her. Clarke just inspired everything in people.
"I'm here for you," Clarke said. "I hear you have a gun."
Bellamy pulled up the side of his shirt, revealing a handgun he had gotten on the arc.
"Good follow me," she said
"And why would I do that?" Bellamy asked.
"Because you want them to follow you, "Clarke responded. "And right now, they're thinking only one of us is scared."
He was used to Octavia challenging everything he said and did but no one else ever talked to him like that, especially any of the girls he had ever interacted with on the arc. From the beginning she questioned him, taunted him and challenged him. It brought a smirk to his lips thinking about it now, the way she wouldn't back down no matter how hard he pushed her, the way she commanded attention the way he did. The way she was always hardened and sure in her ways even when it went against all of his plans, everything he was trying to avoid after what he did to secure a spot on the drop ship.
The only way the arc is going to think I'm dead is if I'm dead. Got it?
Bellamy got it. He didn't necessarily agree at the time. As a matter of fact, he was adamant about getting those bracelets off of everyone, no matter the cost, but Clarke was a powerhouse of her own and she wasn't going to submit. She worked his nerves and he wasn't sure whether he was more intrigued or annoyed until she almost fell into the grounder trap trying to retrieve Jasper. Instinct kicked in and he grabbed her arm to save her before he could fully register what he was doing.
That was when he saw her, really looked at her and saw that maybe intrigue was outweighing the annoying part just a little bit more than he thought. After that day, he kept a slight eye on her, seeing how strong she was, how often she didn't smile and how smart she was.
Then the fog came and Alex got caught in it and he was faced with another choice to take away someone's life. Until Clarke found him and relief and despair flooded through him and she started humming. A low humming sound made its way out of her and he was stunned, wondering how exactly she thought humming would help him, until she took the knife and ran her fingers through Alex's hair before putting the knife into his carotid artery. She hummed until the light left his eyes, and Bellamy knew that his first impressions of her were wrong. She was more than a princess. He was grateful for what she did, and she kept showing him just how different she was from anyone he had ever met.
This time they injected him with something that made him feel like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. More cold water was splashed on him, more notes were taken. Is this what is meant by death becoming something you'd wish for in the light of living with this kind of pain? He was starting to lose hope, drowning in despair.
"Can you wish on this kind of shooting star?" Clarke asked.
Bellamy looked to his left at Clarke looking up at the sky, confounded by her question. She looked up at him, her eyes displaying several kinds of emotions to him at once.
"Forget it," she said.
"I wouldn't even know what to wish for," he admitted. It was the truth. Should he wish for his and Octavia's survival? Should he wish for the arc to see their message? Should he wish for Clarke?
"What about you?" he asked her.
Bellamy looked over at her again, her face illuminated by the light from the sparklers and the fire. He never really did get a direct answer to that question, but he had a feeling that he didn't need one. He knew what she would wish for. Maybe wishing for Clarke was hopeless.
Bellamy knew what he would wish for now. He wished to see Clarke again, to get out of that torture chamber, to hug Octavia, to continue having hope for his survival.
He remembered the words he'd said to Clarke during a time that felt like so long ago: Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things.
Bellamy would do whatever it took to survive. To make it out and back to Clarke the same way she made it back to him, whatever it cost him to do it. He just needed to survive.
Bellamy blinked his way back into consciousness again and he let hate fill his body. He started imagining everything he would do to these people if he ever got the chance to escape. He imagined torturing them with injections and pulling their teeth out, he imagined making them feel every ounce of pain that they made him feel and more. He imagined having a gun, and the thought of guns brought him back to a different time, when he was still a leader and he felt stronger than he did now.
"Ready to be a badass Clarke?" Bellamy asked, the excitement from finding guns still radiating off of him.
"Look, I'm not gonna fight you on bringing guns back to camp. I know we need them, but don't expect me to like it," she responded. He knew her distaste for guns went deep after the things that had been happening in the camp lately, but he also knew that they didn't stand a chance without having guns to defend themselves against the grounders.
"We're lucky the rifles were packed in grease. The fact that they survived means that we're not sitting ducks anymore," Bellamy said, trying to put Clarke more at ease.
"You need to learn how to do this," he said. He needed to make sure she knew how to defend herself, how to shoot even a little bit. He was slightly surprised when she didn't argue, and instead she held the gun up, pointing toward the big X across from them.
"So I just hold it on my shoulder?" Clarke asked.
"Yeah, a little higher" he answered, putting his hand on her shoulder trying to position her correctly. He let himself linger near her for a little bit, allowed himself to study her in a way where she couldn't see him.
Bellamy realized he'd lingered a little too long, stuttering a little bit and telling her to "watch and learn," only his gun didn't shoot. Once, then twice.
"Still watching," she drawled, always insisting on testing him, although he liked that she did that. He watched her shoot, heard her exhale the breath she was holding until she said "That was amazing."
Bellamy smiled at that, recognizing the rush it felt to hold power over a gun but also liking that she was still able to surprise herself with her strength, and he was showing it to her this time. That night they ended up saving each other from almost dying, and she said she needed him. Bellamy had felt needed before; his mother needed him to take care of his sister, to become a soldier for the arc and his sister needed him to protect her. But Clarke's need seemed different. She didn't necessarily need him to protect her, she was strong on her own, but she needed a partner, an equal, someone to lean on. And he recognized that night that in return, he could lean on her too, and that was something he never had before.
Reminiscing on that night, all Bellamy could think about before going unconscious was that he hoped Clarke would be able to save him again.
Bellamy remembered what it felt like to lose Clarke, to wonder about where she was, whether she was okay. He and Finn had common ground when it came to finding Clarke, to having an inherent need to know whether she was alive, to having a need to see it for themselves. Bellamy and Finn just happened to go about it in different ways. Bellamy remembered clear as day the surprise he felt when he realized it was Clarke that was hugging him. That it was Clarke he felt up against him, alive and okay and safe. He remembered what it felt like to finally hug her, to have her in his arms, to let out the huge breath and pressure that had built up inside of him since Clarke closed the doors of the drop ship. She was there. She was safe. She was his.
He remembered Octavia's words: Now there's something I thought I'd never see.
Bellamy remembered sitting by the fire, looking over at Clarke's sleeping face, still feeling the continued relief, the safety and security he felt of having her back. Bellamy hoped he'd get to feel that again, he hoped he'd get to see her again.
He's starting to lose focus, to lose hope. Now all he can hear are Clarke's words: I can't lose you too.
Bellamy is trying to hold on, to ensure that she won't lose him. He's trying to stay alive, but living is becoming too hard, too painful. He keeps replaying her words, despite the fact that she claimed she was being weak when she said them. He remembers being surprised at that, he couldn't remember a time that she was ever weak. Bellamy knows that dying would hurt Octavia, would destroy the sky people trapped in mount weather, would hurt Clarke. He'd do anything for her, to protect her. It just makes sense.
So he fights. He feels every wound, every bit of pain they inflict on him. He takes note of his surroundings more often, trying to become immune to the treatments, immune to pain, and he finds his way out.