Readers may or may not have picked up on the fact that I am in love with Miller…I have no regrets. If Bellamy wasn't such a strong character and wasn't as attractive as he is—I would ship Miller and Clarke. Just an F.Y.I. for those who might be curious why he's such a significant character in my writing.

-Brooke.

P.S. Please Review—I normally pay a lot more attention to follows and favorites because as a reader, I know I don't always review but it means a lot to hear the insight of a reader. In my head, things are making sense and running smoothly because I have the plot thought out and detailed there but I might not make sense to someone that doesn't know where I'm going. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 3:

Thump.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

"No!" Clarke screamed as she jolted up from her sleep. Her forehead hosted beads of sweat that fell down on her face—or maybe those were tears. "No…" She repeated, throwing the small blanket away from her body as she stood up, pulling her jacket on her shoulders while brushing her hair out of the way. Her hands were shaking as she recalled her god awful dream.

Bellamy died.

And now she was breaking all the rules to check up on the person she hated to love.

The dream was completely random—she hadn't dreamt in months because she'd been running off of two hour nights—at best four hour nights and even if she were dreaming, she never remembered them. That's why she was shocked…because it was a strange dream. Not because of her feelings for Bellamy that resurfaced like ocean waves—back and forth, back and forth…

Clarke was no longer the type to hurry through camp with a concerned look on her face but her sleep deprivation and concern made her break into a slight jog. She was concerned and scared and worried because she actually gave a damn. She told herself that if Bellamy was in his area—if he was okay, she'd forget about the dream and break a few things in her quarters before the sun rose. She couldn't let on that she cared because the second she did—the second she let someone in on her little secret, they would attack like vultures. The pity, that she'd avoided thus far, would cover their faces when she walked into a room. The apologies for her losses would begin once more. Her mother would hover over her as if she were incapable of protecting herself… And if she let them know for a second, her whole world might shatter because of all the painful emotions she'd stored away would come back to her like a tsunami.

She never knew a heart could beat so fast without exploding. There was a second where she thought she was having a heart attack—but maybe it was just a mild panic attack. She imagined the blood flow clotting within her chest—imagine that people would say she died of a broken heart if she were to drop dead in her quick footsteps. She sure felt broken.

Something's wrong—something's wrong—something's wrong…

She reached Bellamy's door, her hand hesitating before she hit the metal roughly. What would she say if he stood before her, bare chested with a smirk on his face because of her late night visit? What lie would she have to tell? And what if he saw her awful face and knew… Of course, it dawned on her that Bellamy always knew exactly where her heart was because he'd known her heart and he'd been the person inhabiting her heart before. Of course, those were also foolish thoughts from a former artist who dabbled in romance once-upon-a-time…

There wasn't a response so she tried her luck again.

Still no response.

Her mind went to the times this had been Bellamy and she'd been the one ignoring his knocks. "Princess…" He'd said, "Princess…talk to me…please?" Her white knuckles connected with the door once more before she let out a sigh. "Bellamy." She said quietly before she yelled his name. Across from her, a door opened.

Octavia stood before her with equally concerned eyes. "Bellamy hasn't returned yet." She said, her lips forming a frown. "What's wrong?"

Clarke panted before shaking her head and trying her best to look collected. Her mouth opened for a millisecond before words actually came out, "Nothing…nothing. I have to go." She couldn't spend another second under the questioning eyes of Octavia Blake. This little escapade added fuel to the girl's fire that Clarke had tried to dump ice on repeatedly.

Her hands shook harder as a thousand memories flooded through her brain. One specifically stood out because it directly applied to her current situation.

"Don't worry, Clarke…I'll be back before nightfall." Bellamy had said with a small smirk on his face, "Because I recall a little minx telling me about this thing called round two and revenge and I can't really stand said minx up, can I?"

"It's not funny." Clarke scolded him, "This is dangerous…boar hunting in the middle of the night with the new guys? You could seriously injure yourself…which is the exact reason you gave me when you told me I couldn't go."

"Princess." He used his nickname for her when he wanted something or really needed something. That night, it'd been a mixture of both. "Come on…we both know I'm capable of doing many things in the dark. I have the reflexes of a mountain lion."

"Your sexual prowess doesn't apply in situations such as this one. In fact, it makes me want to tie you up and force you to stay." Bellamy's face changed as his thoughts went somewhere else—the smirk on his face and the arch of his eyebrow indicating exactly where he'd gone. "Oh, come on—get your mind out the gutter, Bellamy. You know, they say it's the people with superiority complexes that like it rough."

"I don't know if you're trying to seduce me into staying or if you're just being… funny." Bellamy looked down at her with a darkened gaze. His hands reaching towards her hips, giving them a firm squeeze as they extended towards the hem of her shirt that he pulled until her body was pressed tightly against hers. "But we'll see how rough it gets tonight when I return."

"If you return."

"Hey…I'll return. Don't say things like that." He put his forehead against hers. "I promise I'll come back."

"I promise if you don't, I'll come for you with or without your explicit permission." She said, her face moving up until her lips softly touched his.

"I know."

"I'm serious…I'd come for you."

"And I'm serious when I say that I'll always return to you Clarke…one way or another."

Her breath caught in her throat while she reached the hallway leading to her room. They were late all the time…this wasn't the end of the world. Bellamy was certainly not in danger—it'd be irrational completely passed off of suspicion rather than fact to say he was dead.

Yet, the voice in her head screamed:

Something's wrong!