Chapter 7:

Her surprisingly soft pads ran roughly across her light pink cheeks as the sun timidly made an appearance for the sleeping camp. Her fingers continued to move until they were locked in her golden waves, her nails scratching at her scalp as an attempt to feel anything but the remaining nausea from her first—and god, she hoped there wouldn't be a many—rite of passage into pregnancy. Clarke's entire body felt like a sweltering airlock fighting for a decent breeze but she fought to ignore her typical systems in hopes that she would simply move forward. She stole a glance in the direction of her victimized, previously empty, supplies bin and released an annoyed sigh. Of course she'd felt the waves of nausea every once in a while but she always assumed it was stress. Part of her hoped she could categorize this event under stress as well because she did not know how she would be able to keep her pregnancy a secret—note, something I need to talk to Bellamy about—if she was losing her everything random times in the day.

After her late night, or early morning—however one phrases it, discussion with Bellamy she felt at ease but highly confused. Did this make them a couple as she desired? Did this mean they were together? And if so, openly? She found that the more they talked, the more questions appeared and suddenly she was quite confused with the entirety of Bellamy Blake. Who the hell is he, really? She desperately wanted to know because he was not completely an insufferable, egotistical, manic ass. There were some pieces of his flawed personality that she wholly wants to forget exist—it's far easier to hate someone than to lo—nope, no, no, no I do not love him. I pseudo-adore his attempts to comfort me and…oh, god I'm so fucking screwed.

It was by design that their rebel leader still rested although, how could she blame him when it was her to keep him up most of the morning with her excessive speeches? Somewhere along the lines, conversation became playful and then flirty and then compassionate but before the mood shifted once more, she was asleep. If her memory serves correctly, he did place a chaste kiss on the corner of her lips before turning over and making himself comfortable. She was at peace for a few hours but then Bellamy subconsciously tried to entrap her in his stony hold repeatedly, something she did like, as well as simultaneously scooting over so she'd have more room each time she jerked away—she'd been far too hot for the sentiment. It was for the sheer benefit of his tent that she left him before the sun beamed down on them because she feared the entire structure would topple over if he continued to make excessive amounts of room for her.

With the miniscule heat—miniscule to someone who wasn't sweating out of their clothes like Clarke—sparking around the camp, people were starting to wake which clearly translated to multiple injuries for her. She slipped away out of the drop ship to empty the contents of her bin and to wash it out with the water system before returning. No one questioned her motives because she was the type that relished in sanitary when it came to her medical area. Her biggest fears consisted of Monty and Jasper finding out because they were the equivalent of the "Camp Criers" when it came to gossip. Jasper had an Achilles heel for a fabulous story. Monty was his accomplice, sworn in by years of friendship and joint arrest—most likely a joint was involved as well. And if Wells figured it out before she could tell him—not that she really had to tell him, maybe she wanted to tell him…god, she was confused—would flip the fuck out.

But who she dreaded the most happened to be her tent-mate. If Octavia found out there would be a series of questions and then she would somehow slip up and tell Jasper and the process of informing the camp would be the first priority due to the fact that she would be the first aunt in nearly a century. Octavia happened to be one of the best interrogator because she was good at prying the details out of someone. Her piercing eyes only helped her cause. Raven could go either way, really and Clarke knew that telling her would get back to Finn and Finn was this suddenly annoying presence in her life that helplessly flirted with her even if he was previously attached to an amazing woman.

Clarke massaged her temples once she was back in the drop ship. There was still a pounding in her head on an extreme level but she bit her lip to relocate the throbbing. She wanted to search out a friend and have her head rubbed, her body pampered but she knew where her duties lied. She needed to be the camp doctor rather than get sucked under by the pregnancy slump her body threatened to pull her through.

If I just lean my forehead against this cold table for a minute…

…

Her muscles were heavy with sleep when someone shook her awake; her eyelids fluttering slowly, she took a step back observe her surroundings, finding she fell asleep standing up with her face pressed against the table. Weird. Clarke moved a hand across her face before she looked down at the person who so rudely woke her up. Upon seeing her other tent-mate, Charlotte, she forced a sub-decent smile.

Charlotte looked unimpressed with her attempts. When one lives with another, they eventually pick up on their tells—much like Charlotte seemed to of done already. Clarke could give credit where credit was due, she seemed perceptive in all accounts. The girl was the type to observe. "Hey, you okay?" The girl asked and Clarke felt subconscious about her appearance. Her hand flew to her face to wipe away any evidence that she'd fallen asleep on the table. It was quite embarrassing when someone did not know all the details—and even if they did, such as Bellamy did, it was still embarrassing. He would probably laugh at it.

"Isn't that my line?" Brightening the mood was extremely difficult with the amount of exhaustion radiating through her mind. Clarke watched as Charlotte forced a tiny grin and how her lips eventually fell into a thin line. A little girl shouldn't be so serious, Clarke thought as she closed her eyes tightly. Her body was trembling, shaking as she pressed her palms against the table. She'd never felt this way before but the stress, the incident from yesterday, and her pregnancy happened to be a cocktail for disaster.

Charlotte hesitated, her fingers tangling as she looked over her friend—practically her guardian—with furrowed brows. "You don't look good…you look dead."

Dead has to be an exaggeration.

"I'm fi—" Clarke was about the throw up, she could feel it rising in her throat. What in hell is going on? I had so much control yesterday! "—I'm fine, don't worry Charlotte." She swallowed thickly before she tried to busy herself, sweat forming across her brow line. God, it's so fucking hot in here. I need to breathe, I need to breathe... "Did you need something?" She struggled to ask as she ripped off her jacket, throwing it on the table with a groan. What if I'm getting sick?

I need to get out of this hot box.

Clarke moved by Charlotte with an apologetic expression, smacking the parachutes out of her way because they were suddenly an annoyance. She squinted her eyes against the harsh gleam of light that met her face. Sometimes she forgot about how bright Earth happened to be. Charlotte was on her heels, fear evident in her stance. Clarke felt guilty for falling apart before her—if anything, Charlotte needed someone that could be strong.

There was a light breeze calming her skin but she found herself bending over to grab her knees for a moment, her eyes tightly closed. Straighten up, Clarke. Don't make a scene. "I'm fine." She told Charlotte with an encouraging nod, "Just overheated I guess."

This is going to be a long pregnancy.

Reviews make me update faster, just saying! How should Bellamy react to Clarke getting sick when he finds out? I'm still trying to figure out who should find out first. Obviously the most important thing is pardoning Bellamy at this point but I'm not exactly sure which way I should go with that either.

Thanks for the continued support!

-Brooke.