Chapter 4:

Bellamy's arm was locked underneath her knees as he toted her through the camp wall. She was extremely aware of his eyes—how they never strayed from her face once they reached familiar ground. The fear in his bold browns were intoxicatingly stunning, causing her breathing to grow more labored. By the unwavering concern etched on his olive features, he thought her increased huffs were a side effect of Dax's assault. She wanted to touch him, caress his exposed arm but she did not know if it would be reciprocated as inappropriate or if he would even want her to touch him that way. He was suddenly to King of Mixed Signals and Clarke unfortunately needed a Rosetta Stone to read him. Bellamy wanted their baby—not with her, of course. Why the hell would he want a baby with her? But, she was positive he only tolerated her as the vessel holding the precious cargo.

They really were in a unique situation.

Her breathing hitched dramatically as she turned her attention away from the curve of his lips—lips she remembered touched her skin nearly religiously during their one night—and the strength of his jawline. She wanted to trace him, save every detail of his skin, of his body, of his rough voice in her brain like a private file. Clarke closed her eyes because she knew he was still eyeing her. He was watching her to see if her condition changed. There were amounts of hope in her chest because the pain was fleeting and if she were truly miscarrying, wouldn't it persist? She was not bleeding, either. Over the last few hours, she could have definitely walked but it seemed like Bellamy felt better if he was doing something.

He opened his mouth to say something when the noise broke through their confused, scared, partially nervous dam. Clarke addressed it, leaping from his arms to better access the damage. There were toppled over stands, cases were completely emptied. Are the rations depleted? Injuries? Where is Raven? Finn? Octavia? Jasper? Monty?—Clarke's thought were a whirlwind information collection. The dimming fires and the pitch black atmosphere felt eerie to her. It looked like her entire life was failing repeatedly. "What the hell is going on?" She took a hesitant step forward, hissing because she was sore. Her hand gripped her side but she eventually pushed it down. The aura of his arms radiated around her and as much as she wanted to be in his embrace, she swatted him away before he could make another public scene. "Bellamy, I can walk." Obviously, mass panic was enveloping their camp and they needed, as leaders, to calm everyone down. He scoffed, clearly irritated by her tone.

Miller approached Bellamy with an exasperated sigh, taking his beanie off as if he needed something to occupy his fingers. Clarke noted he looked like shit. Everybody looked like shit. Nathan parted his lips, a strangled explanation barely passing through them before Bellamy raised his palm to his second, an indication that his second needed to stop talking to him. Clarke was taking slow steps in a different direction, putting some space between them. "Not right now, Miller…" He muttered as he brushed by his friend to follow after her as if his life depended on it. Even if she hated Wells, she figured he was the best to communicate with due to his vague ability to govern—although, Clarke and Bellamy did a far better job when it came to creating their own laws. He had the ability to explain a situation rationally without multiple strings of profanity. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Bellamy's muscles were as a tight as a rubber band as he trailed her. She really tried not to think about it, but hell—she wanted him. "Clarke, slow down…"

"The camp is in shambles!" She flipped on her heel to level with him. Clarke was trying not to fall into the 'mama bear' trap. If she started freaking out about the possibility of losing her child, she would fall apart and she needed to be strong for whatever transpired in their absence. Bellamy's furrowed eyebrows and his naturally pissed off expression told a different story. "We need to get to the bottom of this and then I can worry about my personal problems, okay?"

"Our." Bellamy corrected her with a quick step forward, "Our personal problem…and I could give a damn about this disaster when it comes to you and our baby." It was sweet. The flicker of his eyes from her face to her flat stomach made her want to swoon into his solid arms. She contained herself, though. Clarke dug her nails into the cotton of her shirt as she gripped her midsection. He clearly noticed her reaction and the way she sucked in a deep breath. "I honestly won't be able to focus on anything else until we…know."

Clarke Griffin was rarely exteriorly weak—on the inside, pure chaos reigned in every sense of the word but she perfected a steel expression and a leader's attitude. For the first time in a long time, her walls tumbled down. Bellamy had that unexplained effect on her and brick by brick he'd found a way to bring a sense of total destruction. "Will you come with me?"

"Clarke…I…" Of course not, because of Jaha. She closed her eyes feeling like she'd just been punched in the gut—even if that's how she'd been feeling for the last couple hours anyway. "I'm sorry…"

"No, it's fine. I get it."

He shifted his weight, "When you're done, though…find me, okay? We need to talk about this…about us…"

"Yeah, okay."

Review…

Not really the BEST chapter this story will ever have—more so, a filler. I promise it'll get better.