A/N: Welp, this was suppose to be three chapters but after that kickass premire, I got inspired to continue this, so enjoy. This is still based off my version but it will mix a bit with the show as it aires.

Clarke pased around her room, taking in every inch of reality. Monty talked himself to sleep, which she didn't mind, it gave her a moment to herself. So much emotional trama happened in such a short time that it left her breathless and scarred. Finn, Her mom, countless others were dead, and so was Bellamy.

Without thinking she touched her hand to her dads watch...wait, her eyes searched her wrists for it, but without luck. It was gone.

Her heart broke into more pieces. Perhaps when Dr. Simons returned, she could ask him about it. If she was so needed, then maybe they would grant her that one wish.

A large thump outside brought Clarke out of her trance. Monty was still sleeping softly on the bed, his dark hair a stark contrast to the white, colorless room she was trapped in. She walked toward the window, peering out into the hallway, Guards were running past her room, toward what she figured was an exit from this section since she always saw people coming and going from that way. Two guards dressed in full gear were heading the opposite direction from the group, looking through the glass windows into the rooms. One stopped at the sight of her, their feet in quick motions toward her. In panic she backed away. She threw a blanket over Monty in an attempt at perhaps cloaking him for a short time. Whatever was happening, it was bad. The lock on the door clicked, Clarke scrambled to find anything to use as a weapon, grabbing a long metal rod that held up IV bags as a figure emerged.

Clarke swung a calcuating blow to their torso, but in a flash they caught the rod, the faceless mask staring at her. There was no blows, or hits, instead with a firm grip on the rod, the figure reached inside their uniform and pulled out a familiar watch. In a quick motion Clarke let go of the rod, and instead snatched up the watch from the guard, keeping her body facing him in case he wanted to suprise her with a knockout blow.

"Who are you?" She asked, looking back at the figure. No answer came. Clarke could help but flash a quick glance at the rod still in their hand. "What do you want?"

"For you to come home." A familiar low voice whispered through the distorted mask. Without another word, he yanked the mark off his freckled face, letting his black matt of curly hair fall haphazardly over his face. Clarke felt her heart stop.

"Bell-?" She couldn't breath. She was dreaming again. She thought she was out, she thought she could get past this, she couldn't bare to see him again...

"Hey, there, Princess." His smirk seemed to real, but it can't, no, this isn't real...

Clarke reached her hand up to touch him, her fingertips brushing the skin by his collar bone, she could feel the grit of dirt and sand, his skin warm and inviting, and real.

He was real.

"Bellamy?" Her voice was thin, weak...

His mouth quircked up in his usual smirk, but suddenly the reality of the situation hit when the noise from outside washed over them.

"Time to go, Princess." He hummed, handing her the metal rod back, Clarke nodded and ran over to Monty, who woke with a quick jump. After seeing Bellamy, his face changed, and he became motivated to follow them out into the crazied hallway.

Outside the room it was a jumbled mess of bodies. No one really seemed to notice them, and Bellamy had but his mask back on, fitting in to the swarm of guards and personal to this hellhole. Bellamy had Monty by the back of his shirt, and Clarke by her hand behind him.

Clarke tunred to see Dr. Simons behind them, peering out from her room. He had a purple bruise growing on his cheek bone, and his glasses were cracked. With twenty or thrity people between them, he still found her, his body weaving through the crowd toward them.

Shit.

A turn into a new hallway, up stairs, another turn, a maze of walls and machinery, they finally found themselves in some sort of boiler room. Monty ran ahead, looking for a clear way out. Bellamy turned back to face her, his mask once again removed. Sweat beaded on his forehead, cuts around his nose and cheeks were scabbed and looked sore.

"How?" She whispered, so much had happened, she could quiet steel herself yet. She felt soft and mushy like dough.

"When you closed the door, Tristan became more interested in getting to you, Finn yanked my ass up and we ran. Tirstan saw us and followed, then the ship went off and it was lights out. I woke to find Finn gone and later found him with Tristan. We were helped by the Ark survivors and Abby and Finn and I grouped up to find you guys. And we did." He smiled down at her, his dark eyes drinking in every detail. His usual mask was off, and she could see a play of emotions cross his face.

Clarke remembered her dream with intense clarity, him holding her, them...well, Clarke felt her cheeks heat up and prayed that he didn't notice it.

"Thank you, for the watch." She held up her wrist in front of them, the watch was secured to it.

"Anytime Princess." His hand grabbed her wrist, right below the watch, his fingers trailing down her arm, sending heat rippling through her skin.

"I thought..." She shook her head, shaking away the faked memories in her head, "For so long, I thought you were dead, I thought Tristan killed you, or that you were still alive when we hit the switch...Bellamy, I thought I killed you..." She felt her eyes glaze over with tears. She couldn't cry now, but she held in too much for too long. She looked down, hoping he didn't see her face crumble and break, she was sure he proabably did. His arms slipped around her, holding her tightly against his chest. He smelled like Earth. She missed that smell. That was home to her.

"We should keep going." He whispered into her hair, but she couldn't. She couldn't tell him how weak she was right now. When she didn't answer, he tucked his arms under her knees and hitched her against him. She let out small hisses of sobs, not letting any noise out.

"Stop!" A voice echoed around the walls, Clarke felt Bellamy freeze, turning to face the voice.

She already knew who it was.

"Bellamy Blake, the co-leader of the 100, alive and well I see, Clarke must be so relieved to see you. She nearly drove herself into a coma, just to see you and her friends again. Unfortunately we needed her then, and we need her now." Clarke took in the Doctor, he was huffing, his suit dirty and wrinkled. He was aiming a gun at them.

"Put her down." He ordered, "Or I will shoot you. I think I'll aim for the knee first, thats a painful place, makes you almost useless to your friends." She heard Bellamy hiss in frustration.

"Do it, Bellamy." She whispered, although his grip tightened on her.

"Tick tock," Dr. Simons yelled.

Slowly, Bellamy lowerd Clarke until her feet touched the ground. She stood tall, but pressed her back against Bellamy for support.

"Good, now walk toward me, Clarke, with your hands up above your head, Bellamy, keep your hands up." Slowly, Clarke pulled away from his warmth, toward the Doctor. How foolish it was to trust him. Behind her, she felt Bellamy radiating anger. She knew his eyes would be black, his darker side calcuating his next move with wicked persision.

She just needed to distract the Doctor. When she made it to him, he searched her for weapons, taking out the metal rod tucked in her belt loop, a small scrap of sharp metal.

This was her chance, and she knew Bellamy knew it too.

Now it was time to act.

What did you think? Time to escape, but what does Dr. Simons want with Clarke? I hope you guys like this, I will add more soon, till then, Comment, Follow, Fav, I do enjoy that. Enjoy luvs.