Thoughts: Thoughts are italicized sentences or fragments. Ex. She felt tired, I shouldn't have stayed up so late.

Flashback: Flashbacks will be separated from the current time by dividers, and completely italicized.

Enjoy! ^_^

Breaking Point

Chapter 1: Coming Down

I feel the sun on my face. I see trees all around me, the scent of wild flowers on a breeze. It's so beautiful. In this moment, I am not stranded in space. Clarke smiled faintly, sliding her black chalk over the drawing again. It was a picture of the night sky… from how she imagined it looked on Earth. She wanted to see it for herself, but she knew that was a foolish dream.

It has been 97 years since a nuclear apocalypse killed everyone on earth, leaving the planet simmering in radiation.

Fortunately, there were survivors. Twelve nations had operational space stations at the time of the bombs; human kind had been spared.

Eventually, the stations joined together… there is now only the arc; one station forged from the many.

Clarke spotted an abnormality, and added more shading to a branch of one of the trees. She let out a sigh.

According to science, the earth needs another hundred years to become survivable again. Four more space locked generations and man can go home… back to the ground.

The ground, that's the dream. She hummed, getting lost in her own sketch for a minute too long. When she snapped out of it, she felt more alone than ever, This is reality.

As if to mock her, the lights snapped on and the door slid open. In came two guards; they glared at her as though she was a plague on society. Maybe she was. "Prisoner 319," at least he had the decency to acknowledge her, even if his lip did curl, "face the wall."

Reality sucks.

She stood, putting her shaking hands up in surrender and backing away. When she did as he asked, she could not help but feel like she was missing something… why were they even in her cell. "What is this?"

"Quiet."

She flinched as she heard the telltale buzzing of an active baton and something clicked open.

"Hold out your right arm."

She glanced over her shoulder, and fear began to borrow its way into her chest. She suddenly felt nauseous. "N-No. It's not my time; I don't turn 18 for another month." Her voice came out calmer than she felt; she was thankful for that at least.

He had a wristband in his hand; it was silver metal, about four inches across, and had needles on the inside. Her father had worn one of these before they floated him for trying to help them.

"Hold out your arm."

The panic was rising inside her as they advanced. On the Arc, every crime, no matter how small, is punishable by death… unless the criminal in question is under 18.

She tried to explain, begging them to look at her records. Her birthday was not for another month.

"Take off the watch." No. No, no, no, no.

"It was my father's." He gave it to her before they floated him. She would never give it up. Bellamy; she wished Bellamy were here. The thought made her heart pulse painfully.

The guard grabbed her wrist, "I said take it off-"

"NO." She had not meant to punch him in the face; really, she hadn't. Her knuckles stung, the other guard was advancing.

She was scared… she didn't want to die.

She lashed out with her elbow, throwing all her weight into a desperate attempt at freedom. It connected with the guard's nose and he fell to the floor.

She started running. The door was still open from their entrance, but the fear and panic just kept bubbling inside of her. What did I do?! They would kill her for this!

Where could she go – she was on a spaceship dammit! There could be no escape.

Outside her cell door, it was brighter and she had to shield her eyes.

"Prisoner 319!" Guards were piling out from behind doors, weapons at the ready. Every time she made to go one direction, they were there.

She was on a narrow ledge, with only two directions to go. This was the skybox after all, and some prisoners deserved to be here. She glanced over the edge; her cell was at least four stories up.

Shit. She swallowed hard passed the lump in her throat; looks like fighting could be her only option.

Buzzing rang in her ears, and tears rose to her eyes. She shoved them back.

"Clarke stop!" She spun around, breathing heavily. The woman who spoke was only an inch her senior, thin, and had brunette hair thrown into a hazardous braid, "Wait here." She scoffed, pushing a guard back with the palm of her hand.

"Mom?" She felt confusion begin to fog her already over stressed mind, and her mother's eyes softened. A few long strides and she was inside her mother's arms. Safe; nothing could touch her here.

This time, the tears did not stop. "Mom, what's going on?" her voice broke and she curled her fingers into her mother's soft hair; she smelled like lavender and sterilizing chemicals. That had not changed in the last year and a half. "What is this?" Guards were releasing other prisoners now, and she could see the flash of a wristband on all of them. No. "They're killing us all, aren't they? Reducing population to make more time for the rest of you."

She didn't want to die. She had dreams, regrets. She wanted to be a doctor – to save people like her mother. She wanted to paint, and play chess with her friends.

She wanted Bellamy to know that she forgave him.

Another sob left her aching throat and she shook her head, her mother's hands steadied her. "Clarke you are not being executed. You're being sent to the ground," She shook her once, ensuring her daughter's attention, "all one hundred of you."

"What? But it's not safe-" The radiation could kill them, "no, no. We get reviewed at eighteen."

"The rules have changed. This gives you a chance to live." Or a chance to die slower! How could her mother not understand the danger? "Your instincts will tell you to take care of everybody else… just like your father." Abby was trying to stay strong for her, but she did not miss the subtle change in her voice. "I can't lose you too Clarke, please be careful."

She didn't hear the shot until after she felt a sting of pain in her back, and drowsiness forced her to her knees; tranquilizer dart. "I love you so much." She barely heard her mother's whispered words. Everything was a blur around her, she felt so tired, yet so many regrets were piling up in her mind. Doctor, painter, friend…

"Earth Clarke, you get to go to Earth."

Bellamy.

When she woke up, the wristband was on. The shining silver mocked her, and she could feel the long needles embedded in her skin. It made her wince and hold up her arm. They probably just shoved it on without being careful. A few drops of blood had dried against her forearm as proof of that.

Lifting her arm had made her realize something else; she was strapped in. An orange harness kept her locked into place, and her seat was mildly uncomfortable. There were kids across from her, either in seats or standing, all tucked into the harnesses. Most were talking loudly, but some just looked terrified.

She would have felt a lot sorrier for them if she were not doing the same.

"Welcome back." She stiffened as she recognized the voice; how could she forget it?

The boy who sat beside her had brown eyes, brown skin, and black hair. At one point, she had a crush on him… he was her best friend. Now, he was just that person she wanted nothing to do with.

Whoever arranged their seat assignments was laughing at her. Now, she had to deal with Wells, and the uncomfortable padding.

Her anger must have shown on her face, because he swallowed hard and started, "Look-"

"Wells, why the hell are you here?" She was in prison for treason, not murder, but she did not mind switching her specialties for the bastard in front of her. He got her father killed.

He lifted his bracelet, "When I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground, I got myself arrested." Clarke's eyes narrowed; his voice reminded her of betrayal. She could not stand to listen to him. "I came for you." Like that would change anyt- the ship lurched forward and her breath started to come out a little heavier.

"What was that?" she asked through gritted teeth. She almost didn't bother, but she could listen to him just this once. To survive.

Wells smiled gently, he thought she forgave him, "That was the atmosphere." Maybe she could bite him… he would not be smiling then. Just the whisper of a chuckle echoed inside her head, reminding her of tanned skin and an arrogant smirk.

"You're so beautiful when you're angry."

"Don't try to get out of this Bellamy! You aren't helping your cause you know." He infuriated her! How could anyone possibly piss her off this much?

He smirked smugly, and her hand clenched into a fist. He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. Red was the only thing she saw – and then it wasn't.

His arms crushed her to his hard body, but his lips were soft against hers. Gentle, and so warm. It only took seconds for her to forget her anger and melt into him. Her hands combed through his soft, wild curls. She could never get enough of him. She felt him smile against her lips, and he dragged himself away just enough to whisper, "I win princess."

"Don't be so sure." She muttered back, pulling him in again. This time, their kiss was searing, hot, filled with passion and failed promises. They were not good for each other; they didn't agree on anything, their views on the world were drastically different. It was moments like these that made her realize that telling herself to stop would not cut it.

She was too far gone.

"Your dad's a dick Wells."

Laughter tore her away from her memories and her eyes snapped to the monitor that displayed their chancellor, Wells's father, Thelonious Jaha. "… those crimes will be forgiven. Your records wiped clean."

She regretted not paying attention – he could have said something important. Maybe told them what they could do to make their records clean. He glanced at Wells, and her jaw tightened.

She would ask someone else about it… if they survived the landing.

The monitor began to cancel, flickering from a grey screen to Jaha's face, "Your drop site has been chosen carefully. For the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years. No one ever made it there."

"Go Spacewalker!"

Cheers began and Clarke turned away from the monitor. A boy with long brown hair had gotten out of his seat, and was floating with a large smile on his handsome face. He climbed a ladder across the room, and did what looked like a floating backflip in the air.

He floated above their heads for a few seconds before he drifted down to be level with her face. His arms crossed over his chest and he looked at Wells intently, "Check it out," He gestured to his feet, "your dad floated me after all."

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the sting that came with his sentence. They had not been off the Ark for very long, yet someone was already making jokes about being floated.

"You should strap in before the parachutes deploy." Wells replied earnestly, in that mature, serious way that she had always tried to duplicate while they were growing up.

She noticed movement in her peripherals, and her eyebrows wrinkled, "Hey you two! Stay put if you want to live." The two boys stopped trying to remove their harnesses and stared at her.

Didn't they have any idea how dangerous it could be getting out of their seats? The parachutes would kick in be any minute now, and it would not be sunshine and daisies.

She breathed in deeply to calm her worry when they did not listen, and turned back to the monitor, "… Mount Weather is life. You must locate those supplies immediately."

"Hey, you're the traitor that's been in solitary for over a year."

A year and six months, but who's counting. She locked eyes with the floating boy, and raised an eyebrow at him, remembering what they called him. Spacewalker. "You're the idiot that wasted a month of oxygen on an illegal spacewalk." Much needed oxygen, if she might add.

"But it was fun." He replied, smiling, "I'm Finn." With that, he started rising higher.

Clarke wasn't sure if she was irritated with him, or amused.

She did not have time to consider it; the ship was groaning, and the two boys had finally managed to get out of their harnesses. She barely managed to swallow passed the growing sense of dread, "Stay in your seats!"

They were just beginning to float when the ship gave a loud groan and their plummeting was slowed abruptly as in their parachutes kicked in.

The two boys went crashing to the side; Finn flew out of her sight. Clarke's knuckles were white as she gripped her own harness and her stomach dropped. "Finn are you okay?" she yelled over the sounds the drop ship was making.

Something in the ceiling popped – probably the monitor, or possibly the lights- and sparks showered down. The boy standing across from her held tightly to his harness and shrank away. He wore goggles – funny the things that crossed a girl's mind before her imminent death.

Clarke closed her eyes, breathed deeply through her nose, and concentrated on calming herself. Freaking out would not do anything for her.

Still, treacherous thoughts bubbled into her mind and she could not help thinking, They're going to die. I am going to die.

Why did she have so many regrets?

"Not now." Kane commanded, interrupting the sentence his wife was about to start. He didn't have time for her silliness.

Instead, he approached Sinclair. The man looked at him hopelessly.

"Total system failure, that's what we're looking at." He glanced back down at the mobile command in his hand. "All we know for sure is that they were off course when we lost contact…"

"Tell me about communications." Kane inquired, and Sinclair became even stiffer.

"Other than the telemetry from the wristbands we know nothing. No audio, no video, no computer link. Everything that we programmed in to help them is gone. They're on their own."

"The rockets should have fired by now!"

"It's okay!" Clarke yelled, "Everything on this ship is a hundred years old." Nothing was okay. Sparks flew from the ceiling, resulting on little burns on her hands and arms. The ship's creaking was getting louder. They had not made impact with the earth yet… Clarke felt like she was on one of those earth rides her father always talked about.… What was it, a roller skate? It did not really matter, but she wanted to distract herself. "Just give it a second!"

"Clarke, there's something I have to tell you!" Wells yelled, and his hand grabbed hers. In any other instance, she would have thrown him off. Instead, she clung to him. "I'm sorry I got your father arrested!"

As if he burned her, she flung his hand away. Hurt flared strongly and she tried to hold off tears. She did not want to cry in her last moments. "Don't you talk about my father!"

"Please, I can't die knowing that you hate me!"

"They didn't arrest my father Wells, they executed him! I do hate you!" She all but screamed, and looked away. Her eyes closed again, and she tried to prepare herself. She hoped her death was quick.

A crash sounded, and their drop slowed; the rockets kicked in.

They might actually make it out of this alive.

Then, sparks started again, with more fever than ever. She smelled smoke.

Clarke felt like things were happening in slow motion. The drop ship hit something, jerking her forward in her harness. The machine hum died down… she realized that they landed.

I am alive.

Her breath fanned out in large waves, and she opened her yes.

The room was silent as everyone appraised that fact, and she could almost hear them thinking it. I am alive, I am alive, I am alive. "Listen, no machine hum." Someone finally replied. He sat across from her looking almost as relieve as she felt.

Beside him, the boy with the goggles ogled that sentence, "That's a first."

Clarke took one more second to revel in being alive, and then took her harness off as fast as she could with shaking fingers. She stumbled from her seat, in a desperate attempt to check on the three boys who had been out of their seats, she told herself, but knew it was something more. She wanted to get away from Wells.

She saw Finn hunched over one of the boys, frowning, and she forgot how to breathe for a moment, "Finn, is he breathing?"

As he shook his head, she thought he was going to cry. She did not blame him; they had been following him out of their seats.

"The outer door is on the lower level! Let's go!" She heard someone yell, and she had another mini heart attack.

The radiation!

"No! We can't just open the doors!" She shouted, and raced toward the latter. Around it, there were a clutter of bodies, but she pushed her way through.

She was halfway down the ladder when she heard, "Hey just back it up guys." She glanced at him, noticed his guard uniform, and that he was preparing to open the doors. A flame started to burn inside her. I am not going to die like this. "Stop!"

There was a crowd of excited bodies standing between her, the guard, and the doors, but Clarke did not care. She pushed her way through, and began the lecture she had been waiting to give. "The air could be toxic." She pushed through the last person and met his eyes.

… Those eyes.

They stared at each other, the princess and her loyal guard… who was not so loyal. Anger began to burn in her blood, and she could tell Bellamy could see the betrayal on her face.

It was all coming back. "I thought I told you never to show your face again." She said, her voice came out too quiet, and more exposed than she wanted it to.

Despite that, he didn't seem to know what to say. The people behind them had grown silent, eager for some drama. Typical teens.

"Clarke…"

He looked just as vulnerable as she did in that moment. It was in his eyes, the crinkle in the corners, the grim set to his lips.

She missed him – she missed him too much. Needing Bellamy was like needing air. A constant mocking pull.

The part of her that had just almost died begged her to forgive him. Hadn't she said that she would forgive him? In her mother's arms, it was all she could think of. On the drop ship, tumbling through space, she wished herself back to that time.

Now, though… faced with him...

"I'm not here for you." And her world came crashing down. His soft eyes went hard, his lips set into a firm line, and his stance changed.

A girl appeared, calling his name. She walked to him calmly, murmured a few words, and hugged him. It wasn't some fairy tale reunion with an exciting turn of events. Just a hug, and a smile Clarke had thought was reserved for her.

Her heart broke.

Their eyes met, Clarke Griffin, the princess; Bellamy Blake, the guard. She let him see her pain… and then it was over.

Her walls slammed shut around her, and she could hear the girl chatting excitedly. It was all garbled nonsense, but she could imagine what they were talking about. It doesn't matter.

He was just another failed attempt at teenager romance – a quick screw. Someone to keep her company during her lonely days. He didn't mean anything, he didn't mean anything.

Even Clarke knew that was a lie.

Nearly Headless Niki

Hiiiiiii :D I'm done! I was pretty excited to write this chapter and get the ball rolling. ;)

Thank you p. suku, mrs. omally, and JordanneP! I'm absolutely touched that you took the time to review :')

A big hug to everyone reading this! I really hope you liked it and if you did (or if you didn't) please leave a review down below. ^_^

I'll try to update again tomorrow or Saturday, so if you want to read more be on the look out :D

-Niki