Chapter 5:

The barely managed shouts; uncontrollable ruckus caused her muscles to tense until a shooting pain ran up her neck. Hesitantly, she placed three fingers on her skin and started to massage circles into the swollen area. From the heavy voices, she knew the grounder had escaped and from the whimsical sighs, she knew there was some type of drug involved. Her teeth rotated across the sensitive skin in her cheek as she pulled the flap of the communications tent back. Thankfully, it was empty and with that, she released a slow sigh.

Her mind turned over the frightening truth; Octavia certainly helped the grounder escape. Somehow, Clarke could not find an ounce of anger in her chest due to the fact that she recently tortured the semi-innocent grounder. How could she hurt someone like that and then have the sentiment that she could be a compassionate parent? She was absolutely positive Bellamy would lose his mind upon the realization that his sister was a minor traitor to their well-being. There were so many consequences for her actions that the brunette probably never accounted for—and at what cost would Clarke and Bellamy have to repent for her mistake? For their own mistake—really?

Clarke's tongue ran across her teeth, noticeably fuzzy due to the lack of mint toothpaste littering the camp. Slowly, she settled on the lopsided wooden stool only for it to rock back and forth revealing just how unbalanced their camp furniture actually happened to be. This is not safe, she noted for future reference. Her fingers pressed the receiver, calling once, twice, three times before a thin static ran across the monitor. They connection was established but no one communicated for minutes—minutes upon minutes where her teeth rotated across the sensitive skin of her cheek, a nervous exhale pushing through the trembling lips.

More time passed.

Her untrimmed fingernails dug into her palms until her skin was scattered with equally spaced half-moons. Cerulean eyes examined the deep impressions until noise vibrated through the area, nearly causing her to fall from her rickety seating. Eventually, she was met with her mother's face—she still looked disappointed. Abby Griffin cleared her throat awkwardly and forced a smile to entertain her thin lips, "I honestly wasn't expecting to hear directly from you today. Did the FEMA bunker meet your expectations?" Clarke shifted uncomfortably, her shattered poker face informing her mother that this was not a professional call. "How are you coping, Clarke?" "with what you're about to do…?" hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

She placed her hands on the table for support before she coughed, "How are my vitals?" Clarke could care less about her health, so she elaborated. "How is the baby?" Of course, Clarke was well aware that she would have to be healthy for her baby but it the large scheme of things, her heart rate and if she was properly hydrated seemed low on the list of concerns. Her only question happened to be, am I miscarrying because of Dax? It crossed her mind for a second—why was he even out there? But she swallowed it down as her mother fixed her gaze on her features.

Clarke did not want to go into the specifics of her day out of common curtesy for Bellamy. He did not want people to know his significance in the camp nor his significance in her situation—their situation—so she would idly keep her mouth shut until…until he decided he wanted to clear his name rather than being a prideful coward. There were also too many questions, and far too many answers that would accompany her confession—all of which she was not ready to be bombarded with.

Her mother's head lowered as she analyzed data on her tablet, her finger moving briskly across the screen—nodding in affirmation as she proceeded down what Clarke assumed was a list. Eventually, Abby sighed a returned her gaze back to her daughter. "Everything seems fine with the…fetus…but you seem stressed. I suppose it's understandable considering the mess you've gotten yourself into. I'm a little concerned about lingering…pain? Are you in pain?" Clarke released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding before nodding slightly. "What—"

"Earth is not as friendly as the books depict, mom. I'm fine as long as the baby is fine." Clarke informed her with a hopefully intense glare. Her mother's intentions were all too evident in the way her face fell and how her eyes started to beg her daughter to think differently. Why look at me that way? Her heartbeat started to race because she felt like she was three being scolded for a number of wild things. Unlike her small form, she did not have her father to protect her with a simple, "Abby…she's a child."

Would he understand my choice?

"You can't…" Abby pinched the bridge of her nose, "You can't really be considering keeping this baby, can you? I urge you to terminate the pregnancy, Clarke."

It was not the best sight she'd ever seen—her mother falling apart because her daughter was making her own choices. "I understand that it is not ideal, mom but—"

"Not ideal is the understatement of the century, Clarke Griffin. You are not having a baby! I forbid it! You are far too young, you don't know the first thing about being a parent, you…god, do you even know who the father is of your child?"

Too far.

Clarke steeled herself, "I do not take orders for you."

…

There were a thousand and four reasons to go to the medical bay and burry herself under the complicated mess the grounder's escape and the apparent drug use caused. There were ten other reason why she shouldn't be trekking through the populated part of camp after her overexertion. Clarke was almost certain Bellamy would demand bed rest or something completely ridiculous after the events with Dax but she found herself pushing through his lackeys with a reserved smile gracing her lips. It's okay, everything's okay… the baby is okay. I'm going to be okay. He was chewing out those left in charge, his hands flying around but Clarke drowned out his strings of profanities and threats as she observed the way his body moved.

Graceful, almost as if he was the only person capable of that type of ease. His plump lips roughly parted wider and wider as he increased his volume. She continued to push until she was standing beside Miller. He looked as if he were suffering from a major hangover. She made a note to ease his headache once she talked to Bellamy.

She meant what she said before, how this entire situation was not ideal but she could not afford to be an idealist in that moment. There was a specific confidence washing across her skin, seeping into her bones as she watched Bellamy flawlessly discipline, scold, and analyze his crew of misfits. She tilted her head and fought a large grin. He's going to be a great dad…

Miller stole a glance in her direction, "Watch out with those eyes, Princess…someone might think you actually like him." She liked Miller just fine. He was the type of person that radiated a calming mood over a crowd but also appeared to be quite capable of creating some damage. "You okay? We heard about Dax…"

Clarke turned to face him, "I'm fine…better than fine, I guess. How—"

"Miller!" Bellamy's gravelly voice destroyed their platonic conversation. His eyebrows shooting up when he realized who was distracting his best man. "Clarke…" People looked at him, clearly aware of the softness in his tone. He shook his head, shooing them away with a dismissive hand and one last series of threats that probably fell on deaf ears. Miller parted when Bellamy took a step forward. "Is…?"

Clarke nodded, "Yeah. Everything's fine. We're fine."

Surprisingly, Bellamy pulled her into a pseudo-tight embrace. His arms were like metal bars holding her in place but she would never compare them to a cage—she'd been in prison, she knew the definition of a cage. She wanted to be in his arms, almost too willingly. It took her far too long to clear her throat and push at his chest until he took a step back. He stammered, "I'm, uh, I'm happy that everything is okay…"

"Me too." Clarke observed his reaction as her words settled over him. I want this, too. It was her own version of a confession. Her head twisted towards the drop ship, "I should probably…uh, later we can talk if you want. I need to inspect injuries, check on Finn…talk to Raven. I, so um, I should do that and you—"

"Yeah, back to work." He forced an awkward smile before turning around to talk to more people. She briefly heard him talking about the guns before he turned around and called to her, "And take it easy, Clarke. Don't overdo yourself!"

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How should our other characters react with they share the news?