"If I just save you, you could save me too." – "No One Does It Better" by You Me At Six

Chapter 7:

Clarke unfolded the pieces of paper in her back pocket, scribbling on one of the sheets before folding it back and placing it near Miller's head as he slept. She looked at his name staring back at her: Bellamy—a tear rolled down her face as she looked at her sleeping friend. "Goodbye, Nathan." She said, almost choking on a thousand tears that she'd kept in for so long.

She thought goodbyes were unnecessary—but not it this case.

She grabbed her bag and left her gun near Miller's head so he'd have extra fire power on his way back to Camp Jaha. It was nice to know that she had someone by her side during her last walk through the darkest parts on Earth. There was a metaphor somewhere in there but there was no need to convey it. She sighed one last time before she turned and started walking towards the Mount Weather.

She had every intention of throwing her hands up in there air and surrendering—well, after she offered her life up for Bellamy's life and if that didn't work out, she'd make sure she died by his side. She couldn't think of living another minute with the torture of not knowing. Still, she put one foot in front of the other with the confidence that she wouldn't die without knowing.

It was hard for her to think that Bellamy was dead—she didn't understand why Octavia easily accepted it. Well, actually, she did. It was easier for her to accept it instead of holding onto hope…because hope got people killed in these areas. If Bellamy was alive, he would find his way back to her. She had faith it that.

But Clarke's faith struggled every day and she'd rather produce answers—she'd rather know beyond a doubt that he was dead or alive than hold on to a fraction of false hope. Her hands continued to twitch as she walked into a flatter area where she knew the tunnels started…She brushed across the ground with her foot before she hit something with it. She gripped the handle, struggling to pull it up. She wasn't strong and her mind went straight to the first time Bellamy showed her how to use a gun—how he used his axe to open the bunker. She sighed, jerking it extremely hard. She probably pulled something but it didn't really matter.

She lowered herself into the darkness, regretting the fact that she didn't have a flashlight. She knew the way because it was burned into her head. She started walking in the direction she needed to walk in. Life doesn't always break people's heart—but when it does, it's cruel because it moves on faster and faster until time erases memories.

She couldn't forget him even with time.

He was a tattoo.

She had to admit that she was wrong to his face before she died—she had to do that. It was only fair that she tell him all her shortcomings before it was too late.

XXX

Bellamy touched the spot on his neck that she used to suck on repeatedly—she would leave her little mark as a sign to all of the bimbos that she owned him. It was the most sensitive part of his neck and it always made him smile when he remembered how she found that out. Clarke had her sensitive spots as well but he never disclosed the secrets of Clarke's body to anyone.

Her almost sinful squeals always made him laugh incredibly loud.

Except he couldn't laugh at the memory of who she used to be. It was easy to think about the happy times they shared—it pained him to think about their horrible fights and her icy tears. They slipped down her face like a veil and she would try to wipe them away because of pride. She thought it was weak to cry because only children cry.

Then she didn't cry at all and he missed seeing her break even if it tore him apart to see her fall from her pedestal.

XXX

It was as if the guards were waiting for her to appear—she put her hands up by her head, her palms facing towards them as she steeled her face. She'd accepted death as the optimal ending in this situation. The fact that her optimism only extended towards the amount of time they would torture her before they killed her said something about her rough state of mind.

"I want to speak to Wallace." Clarke demanded, "Now."