Disclaimer: I don't own The 100.

READ THIS PART BEFORE YOU CONTINUE!

Disclaimer #2/Warning: There be sensitive topics ahead, yo. I'm going to lay it flat out for you—the moral side of things don't weigh much with Bellamy and the other characters in this alternate story that I've created. It's about survival, and having to be realistic about it. I'm not trying to tell anybody what to do with their own lives. I just want my readers to keep an open mind and realize that that tough choices have to be made in Bellamy/Clarke's situation.

"To be honest I wish I could, but we were up there, Clarke. There was nobody but us."

"Yeah, but we were in space."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying that I don't think space and heaven are the same thing."

"How can they not be? Both are up there. The only thing up there is space and more space."

I shrugged one shoulder with a smile. "I'm not totally convinced."

"That makes no sense. You were there for seventeen years. I was there for more than twenty. I didn't see any giant man out in the stars. In fact, since I was there a lot longer than you I should win this on account of experience."

I laughed at him. "There's no winning or losing this."

He crossed his arms and arched his brows expectantly. "If there isn't, why are we talking about it?"

"Because," I said, watching the comb run through my hair, "I'm curious."

This was my favorite part of the day. Not just getting the chance to comb my hair and revel in how much better it made me feel, but talking to Bellamy. That wasn't to say that we didn't talk from morning to night. That was conferring. That was discussing and sometimes fighting.

Okay, a lot of fighting, but it wasn't the same as before. He was still a passionate jerk who favored the big stick over the friendly handshake. I guess he was just more willing to listen to what I had to say.

As for me, I found myself giving his viewpoints more serious thought.

The kind of talking we did in the last several evenings had more to do with us. What we liked. What we thought. We couldn't completely remove ourselves from the problems that the hundred faced, of course. Still, some of our best ideas had come out of these conversations.

And today I needed it. I really, really did.

I finished combing and held up the tool, pointing to the ground in front of me.

He walked over and sat. "And why are you curious?"

"We could talk about something else, if you want," I said with arched brows, going to work on his hair. This was becoming a thing for us too. A routine that I looked forward to at the end of the day, and moreover, a practice Bellamy seemed to find comfort in.

He still brushed my hair from time to time, but today I couldn't wait for him. I got the strands tangled on another tree again. Then someone broke their leg and I had to set it. I wanted to forget the screams and the blood that was becoming very common in my life.

And then after—no, I was not going to think about it. It had nothing to do with me. My wound was healing. Soon the stitches could be removed. I'd rushed into my tent and took advantage of my renewed mobility to get the tangles—and the problems—out of my hair. I was going to enjoy this time I had with Bellamy, just sitting in my tent and wiping my head clear.

I turned my thoughts to Bellamy, who sat with one of his hands curled over my knee and the other wrapped around my calf. "No, I want to know why you're curious," he said.

"You know why." Wait. I sniffed.

"It's always nice to hear how badly you want my brain-"

"Bellamy," I interrupted, "why do you smell like flowers?"

He stilled between my legs, shoulders tensing and then quickly relaxing. "I don't smell like flowers."

I dropped the comb in his lap and buried my hands in his hair before he could react. I poked my nose in the tresses and took a long deep wiff. "Yes you do." Frowning, I tugged his head back so that we were eye to eye. "What's going on?"

He winced. "Monty," he confessed at last, clearly pained. Not by me, I wasn't holding him that tightly. He just didn't want to fess up.

"Monty made you smell like flowers."

He sighed. Deeply. "It's this thing he's working on. He needed a test subject."

I waited.

"He didn't tell me it had flowers in it, okay? He's trying to develop a way of cleaning our hair by boiling plants in water. He was supposed to give me something called mint, but he accidentally gave it to Raven and didn't have the guts to tell me."

A picture was beginning to form in my mind. "So Monty washed your hair for you, and then ran the other way before you could figure it out."

His scowl deepened. "Pretty much." He shot me a dirty look. "Don't laugh."

"I'm laughing at Monty, not you." I took another exaggerated sniff. "I like it. And your hair is shiny." I plucked at the strands. "Does it feel better to you?"

"Yes," he reluctantly admitted.

"How did Raven's look?"

"How am I supposed to know? It's her hair." He paused, considering. "Smelled nice, though."

"I knew he was good for more than moonshine." Before we'd come to Earth, I never would have known what flowers smelled like. The Ark had agro, but flowers weren't something considered useful or important. Amazing how a few weeks on Earth had changed us.

I remembered the girl who came into the med center, looking for something to help with her menstrual cramping.

I ruthlessly shut it down.

Bellamy twined our fingers together. "He said to tell you that mint can be used to relieve certain kinds of pain, freshen breath, make tea, and I forget what else. Something about chest congestion."

"Tea," I murmured, trying to focus. "That sounds like something I want to try."

"The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the Ark didn't randomly put people on that drop ship. We have an agro guy, a chemist, engineers, mechanics, and two or three other kinds I can't think of right now." He looked to me. "And a healer."

My fleeting sense of contentment vanished. "I think it had less to do with planning than my mother trying to save me."

"Can you blame her?" It wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Not for that." I untangled our fingers and held out my hand for the comb. He handed back to me without a word.

I started brushing his hair again. "I know she loves me," I said after a few minutes. "It's just...I was so sure she loved my dad too." Tears pricked my eyes. "But she turned him in anyway. How can you do that to someone you love? You don't. You try to save them." I sniffed. "The way you did with Octavia."

"I don't know, Clarke." He rubbed my calf. "I can't speak for your mom. But she'll come down here one of these days with Jaha and the rest. You'll have to face her then."

"Do I?" But that brought up something I'd been thinking about more and more. "What are we going to do about that, Bellamy? You know they're going to try to assimiliate us back into the group when they come."

He twisted around with a frown. "I thought you'd want that."

"I want their technology. I don't want people to die. But I don't know if we belong to the Ark anymore. We're different. Earth is different. I can't—I don't want to wrap my head around following their rules again."

Bellamy was staring at me as if he'd never seen me before. "You're serious."

"Yes."

He accepted that silently, his mind whirring behind his eyes. "I did not expect that," he said with an amazed shake of his head.

Nobody did. Least of all me. But it was on my mind constantly lately, and that nagging sense of something being wrong was growing harder to escape. "The Ark was created so that we could survive. It was a tool. Well, we've survived." Sort of. "We need a new society, but we're outnumbered, outgunned, and they'll probably say we're just a bunch of dumb kids who don't know any better." I settled back, nostrils flaring in annoyance just thinking about it.

He was watching me carefully. "So you don't want to blend with the Ark again."

"Yes. No." I wet my lips, trying to sort through my feelings. "All I can think about was how easy it was to be floated. How disposable we were to them, and all of our hard work, our...tears, our death, it'll mean nothing when they get here. Like it never happened!"

"Hey." He turned all the way around, reaching up to cup my face. "What's going on with you?"

I gathered my composure with difficulty. "I think tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday," I told him in a clipped voice. "I don't know. I lost count of the days."

His lips parted, but his searching gaze didn't let up. "...that's not it."

Alarm shot through me. "Yes it is. I'm just having a hard time dealing with the idea that if it had been up to them, I wouldn't have lived past tomorrow. Floated. Just like that." I gripped his wrists tight.

"That's not everything," he insisted. "Tell me the truth, Clarke. Why are you rattled up like this?"

"Because we need their technology, Bellamy! When they come, we'll have to deal with them. We need their medical equipment, their medicine, their freakin' contraceptives." I got up and started to pace. "The way people are going at it like—like—rabbits down here, someone's going to end up pregnant. I wouldn't be able to see what's happening. I couldn't find out if something was wrong."

"Clarke."

Something in his voice stopped me in my tracks.

He unfolded from the floor like a panther uncurling from a tree branch. He stood almost too tall for my tent, staring at me with glittering brown eyes. "Tell me what's wrong. Now."

My breath wouldn't come. I was caught. "We've been here for a month." A hard rock formed in my chest. "I haven't had my period." I lifted my gaze to his. "Stess can upset a cyle, but chances are good that I might be pregnant."

He didn't move. Not a muscle. His hands were fists at his sides. "All women on the Ark are fitted with IUDs," he stated calmly. Too calmly.

I nodded. "When we get our first period or when we turn fourteen. I got mine when I was eleven." Facts. Facts were good. I could lose myself in facts, make my voice as dispassionate as possible. "By the time five years were up I was in Confinement, and the Ark doesn't waste resources on the condemned."

And I wasn't thinking beyond the moment with Finn. I almost laughed. How cliché was that? It was every cautionary tale come true, and it was me. Princess Clarke Griffin, Phoenix kid. Wouldn't the hundred just love that? They'd say I deserved it, that I should have realized what would happen. That I should have been more careful.

I put a trembling hand in front of my eyes. Get it together, Clarke. Deep breath.

I dropped the hand. "So," I said, the crack in my armor shored up. "That's that."

Never mind that the father of my possible child was dead. Or that I was on Earth with almost nonexistent medical resources.

Or that Bellamy hadn't said a word in so long it was getting awkward.

I couldn't blame him. I didn't sign up for pregnancy, but he wasn't even there the night of conception. He had no responsibility or obligation to me. Whatever this relationship between us was—friendship, a romance—he didn't need this on his plate.

"I need some air," he said so quietly I almost missed it. He brushed past me, careful not to so much as touch my sleeve, and then he was gone.

I blinked at the remnants of our nightly ritual—the comb, the bed, some food. A person would never guess how much that homey scene meant to me. Or how far from reality it now was.

I sank down on my bed...and I cried.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Goddamn bam motherfucking bam irresponsible bam shiteater!

I rammed my foot one last time into the wall—which held—and backed off, breathing hard.

I knew Spacewalker was reckless. I knew it. And now he was dead, so I coudn't beat the shit out of him for not taking better care of Clarke.

I ran my hand down my face. God, Clarke. The way she was quietly losing her shit back there while trying to pretend that it was all okay? It was not okay. Nothing was okay about this!

Memories of my mom assaulted me. I put my back to the wall and slid down, not caring about the cold. Keeping Octavia a secret meant no check ups, no help except the ebooks we could access and what Mom remembered from the first time around. The labor was horrible. She couldn't even scream. She bit a hole through her lip to keep it in.

I started to shake. We got lucky with Octavia. We got solucky, and that was in the relatively safe confines of the Ark.

We didn't even have toothpaste on Earth.

The horrifying statistics of birth and death in ancient civilizations hammered me. A thousand things could go wrong during pregnancy. Clarke was facing them all. She could die.

The baby could die.

Fuck me, they both could.

And Octavia. Jesus, she'd never had an IUD. What if-

I shook harder, head to toe, pressing the heels of my hands so deep into my eye sockets that it ached. God, what about the girls I'd been with? What if they were like Clarke? I didn't take precautions.
I just assumed.

Like Spacewalker assumed.

I was just as much of a piece of shit as Finn.

I surged to my feet, blindly searching in the dark until I came to Monty's tent. I barged right in.

Monty and Jasper looked up just as I seized Monty by the collar. "You repeat this conversation and they won't be able to find your body," I snarled into his face. "Understand?"

"O-kay," he said, hands up. "What conversation?"

Jasper eased in cautiously. "Bellamy. Look man, you should calm down. Let's talk this out—"

"Shut up." I glared down at Monty. "Is there a plant that can induce abortion?"

"Abortion?" He paled. "You can't be serious."

"Do I fucking look like I'm joking?"

Jasper stared at me. "Octavia?" he asked faintly.

"If I were you, Goggles, I'd keep my mouth shut. I'm going to ask one more time, Monty. Is there a plant a girl could take to end a pregnancy?"

He didn't want to answer me. I could see it in his face. His lips thinned, and finally he said, "Yes."

I almost sagged with relief. "Good." I let him go, nodding. "Good." So there was hope. "Which?"

"I'm not telling you."

I stilled. "Come again?"

"If a girl wants it, she can come to me herself. Beating me up isn't going to change my mind."

"Why the hell would I beat you up?"

He just gave me a look. In his tent. Threatening him. "Fuck," I swore, digging my hands through my hair. "Just...fuck!"

They glanced at each other. "You need a drink," Jasper told me decisively.

Ain't that the truth. Part of me wanted to get the hell out of there, but I ended up putting my ass on the ground and gesturing impatiently. "This is going to get ugly," I warned them.

"Uh huh," Monty deadpanned. "Just don't try to kiss or hit me and we'll be fine."

I accepted one of the crude metal cups we'd fashioned from the drop ship and swigged the alcohol. It was—whoa, what the hell was that? I coughed, eyes watering. "New recipe?" I took another drink, not waiting for the answer.

Guy could go blind from that shit. Or get blind drunk.

I was all for the latter. No, wait, no I wasn't. Couldn't risk being seen. Except these two idiots were watching me like I was one of those shadow figure plays I saw once when I was a kid. "What?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just kind of wondering what started all of this," Monty ventured.

Jasper said nothing. Still thinking about Octavia, no doubt.

I looked from one to the other. "Do you know how many women used to die in childbirth? One in eight. That's the conservative number. If you took all the girls in the hundred and did the math..." I swallowed. "Could be caused by anything. Internal damage. Pelvic absess. Infection." I took another drink. "Know how many kids used to die before they turned two? How many things could kill them?"

"But..." Jasper looked at me. "The Ark. They have medical supplies, equipment that could help us..."

"When are they going to get here, Jasper? Are we in any kind of goddamn position to sit and twiddle our thumbs waiting? We've got Grounders, radiation fog—half of these jackasses can't be bothered to keep dirt out their cuts!" That didn't have anything to do with it, but I said it anyway. I thrust my empty cup at him. "More."

He filled it.

"We don't even have enough food," I said, drowning in misery. "And you know what I told her? I wanted three. THREE. What the hell was I thinking?" I knocked the second drink back. "Baby girls are cute, and soft, and they like to snuggle. They make funny noises and they think the whole damn world is amazing. They eat everything because they don't know any better. What if they ate the wrong thing? What if they fell and cut themselves? What if she got caught by a Grounder? What if one of those mutant animals decided to slither into camp?"

"He's losing it," Monty whispered to Jasper.

"Of course I'm fucking losing it, dumbass. Do you even hear what I'm saying? Earth is a dangerous place we barely know how to navigate. How are we going to raise kids here?"

"Bellamy, out of an insane sense of curiosity, considering you're in our tent getting drunk and all," Jasper said, "who did you get pregnant?"

"I don't know," I admitted, head down, fingers in my hair.

Monty whistled. "That's a problem."

"I can't watch her die." I didn't meant to say it. "Not because some dick made a mistake and didn't think with anything other than his...dick."

"I'm confused," Goggles stated.

"Join the club," the agro expert returned. "Look, Bellamy, I'm not following you here, but I'll tell you this: abortion is not the answer. We have to prevent pregnancy to begin with."

"And if it's too late? What then, genius?"

"The girls have to choose that for themselves," he said. "I'll tell Clarke that the plant exists. She can tell anybody who's interested."

"She'll die," I repeated.

"Who?" Jasper asked with a frown.

"Clarke."

"Clarke's going to die?" He sat up straight, paling. "From what?"

"The baby." I knew it in my bones.

"You got Clarke-"

"Easy, bro," Monty cut in. "Don't poke the beast." He got up and crouched in front of me. "I'm not going to make the decision for anybody. That's what the Ark did, and this isn't the Ark. Choices, right?"

I glared, but couldn't argue. Didn't think I could get my thoughts together enough for that.

"We've got some bad things we're up against," Monty continued quietly. "You're right; being pregnant down here is dangerous. For the girls. For the babies. That doesn't mean I'm going to pressure someone into thinking one way or the other. I'll tell Clarke, and Clarke can do what's right for her." He took my cup. "You going to crash here, or are you going back to your own tent?"

"Clarke," I said promptly. "I want to go back to Clarke."

I got up—and didn't even stagger.

They stared up at me with open mouths. "You are officially a god," Jasper stated, clearly impressed.

I snorted derisively. "Please. You two idiots haven't seen shit yet." I pointed. "Remember what I said about repeating this conversation."

I turned on my heel and walked out, straight as an arrow. I headed directly for Clarke's tent without looking right or left, and people were smart enough to stay out of my way.

It came into sight, a beacon. End destination.

I swept the flap open with my arm.

The inside of her tent was dark. There was no more light from the fire outside except for a dim glow, so there was no way to see her face when I entered. I saw her shadow sit up, though, startled. "Bellamy?" Her voice was tight and watery.

She'd been crying.

"Yeah," I confirmed, not wanting her to think some asshole was trying to crawl in here with her.

"What are you doing here?"

I shrugged off my jacket almost before I made the conscious decision. "I'm staying the night." I tossed the jacket aside and reached for my shirt. It followed the jacket. Next were the boots.

"What?" Her voice rose. "What the hell are you talking about, staying the night?"

"Exactly what that means, Princess. I'm here, and I'm going to sleep in the same bed as you."

"And just what makes you think I want you in this bed?"

"Right now it's less about what you want than what I need." I walked to the bed.

Now she was mad. "Are you serious?" she demanded. "You've said some asshole things to me in the past, Bellamy Blake, but that takes the cake. I tell you I might be pregnant and you think that means-"

"No,"I cut her off. "I don't. I'm here because I don't want to be in my tent without you. I'm here because this is my damned bed, and if you're in it I want to be there too. Now move over." I crowded her, and to my total surprise she moved aside, huffing a little as she did so.

I got under the covers, wrapped my arm over her waist, and hauled her gently into me, spooning.

She grunted. "You smell like moonshine and flowers."

I wasn't in the mood for whatever banter she was trying to start. "I'm with you," I said baldly. "I'm fucking terrifed, but I'm with you whether you're pregnant or not. But you've gotta know that I might have gotten someone else pregnant because I was too much of a dumbass to think it through. I'm going to take responsibility for that."

I buried my face in her hair, loving the feel of it.

"This isn't your baby," she said, trembling.

"Don't care."

"You don't have to take care of me, Bellamy. It's okay if you don't. You won't be doing anything wrong if you change your mind and walk away now. But it has to be now." She was crying again. "Do you understand what I'm saying? It can't be later, when I've grown attached to you."

"You're already attached to me." She loved me. And I loved her. I told her the truth; I didn't believe love could compare to what we could have, did have. I phrased it like that because there wasn't a better word for this thing. "I'm not going to lie; having this baby is dangerous. It may kill you." I tightened my hold on her. "It might make me a shitty human being to say this, but abortion would be something I would support...if you wanted it." It had nothing to do with the baby. Nothing to do with Spacewalker. It had everything to do with Clarke.

Princess Clarke Griffin.

"But if you don't, then I'm going to do everything I can do to protect you and her when she comes." With my whole soul. No questions asked. "If I've fathered any other kids in camp, I'm going to take care of them too. Can you handle that?"

Part of me squeezed. What if she said no?

"Oh, Bellamy." She was crying in earnest now, her body shaking with it. She turned in my arms and wrapped herself around me, her face buried in my bare chest. "Thank you."

"Hey," I shushed. "It's okay." I stroked her back.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm more scared than I was when we were on that drop ship, hurtling through the atmosphere. Isn't that stupid?"

"No. I think it's pretty natural. We'll be okay, Princess."

"I don't know why you're doing this."

"Yes you do."

She nodded jerkily. "Yes I do. I keep telling myself I don't need you. That I just need myself. I know I'm lying, because you're the person I think of when I feel worried."

"Me too," I confessed.

"All of this is purely hypothetical. It might be just a scare."

"Don't care." I did, but not the way she meant. It didn't affect my ultimate decision.

"You said I can take your shit. That's why you need me."

"Nope. That's why I want you. There's a difference."

"Then why?"

"I'm not going to get all mushy on you, Princess. Just believe it. You're important to me, and not just because you're a healer. Okay?"

She nodded again, slowly. "Okay."

"Now go to sleep. When you wake up you'll be eighteen, and probably up to your elbows in morons getting splinters."

"Just like this?" she asked skeptically, hand drifting from my bare shoulder to the place right over my heart.

"Well, if you really want my body, I'll just have to call it your birthday pres-"

"Good night, Bellamy."

She was laughing. Snotty and congested, but not crying.

Progress. "'Night, Princess."