A/N: Here's the next chapter, peoples! Sorry for the longer update. Please be aware that there is swearing in this chapter, so if you don't like that sort of stuff, be ready. Thanks, and happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own the 100 or its characters, and I am not profiting from this in any way.

Continuously Complicated

Chapter Four

Clarke woke up before anyone else.

She'd fallen asleep sitting against the wall, her body now stiff and sore from the awkward position. The bunker was almost pitch black save for three candles glimmering at the bottom of the ladder, their flickering light seeming ominous and off-putting rather than warm and friendly. For a moment, Clarke allowed the quiet to wash over her. She looked at the outline of Raven and Finn, who were sleeping soundly in the middle of the bunker, curled together to form a jumble of legs and arms. Clarke briefly wondered if that was alright to do in Ravens condition, but dismissed the thought. She looked into the shadows where Bellamy would be, his normally stern face peaceful as he drifted off somewhere beyond reality. She thought about yesterday, and what Bellamy had smelled like and how his breath had tickled her hair, and how his eyes had been so dark and endless and-

She shook her head quickly, frowning slightly. Better to not think about yesterday, apparently.

Clarke patted the ground beside her until she hit a soft surface, which was a backpack she'd filled with some basic supplies yesterday before going to sleep. Pulling the straps over her shoulders, she rose to her feet, quietly making her way to the ladder, where she stopped, hovering above the candles. For some unknown reason, she had a strong urge to blow the candles out, and throw the bunker into a thick darkness. It seemed strangely fitting, like the black was a representation of something complex and important, something Clarke could not comprehend in that moment. It was a powerful feeling, to have a metaphor hovering just beyond your fingertips; that if you just reached forward ever-so-slightly, you could grasp it and suddenly give meaning to a normally unimportant thing. Clarke liked that feeling. She liked that power.

"Running away already, oh wondrous leader?" It was just a hoarse whisper, but it was enough to scare Clarke out of her skin. She gasped, jumping forward slightly and kicking a candle over, thus snuffing out all three of them. The darkness that suddenly seemed to leech from the depths of the bunker did not feel metaphorical. It felt creepy and dangerous and unsettling, and Clarke immediately regretted even considering feeling like the dark made her powerful.

"Murphy, what the fuck." She hissed, grasping one of the rungs of the ladder with a shaky hand, her heart pounding against her chest as she leaned gratefully against it. It had completely flew her mind that they'd tied Murphy to a grate on the floor only inches from the ladder, and she'd hardly considered he'd be awake. She supposed it made sense. Murphy was the kind of person who would find comfort in the dark.

"Don't curse at me." He scoffed, his voice echoing eerily from the shadows. "I didn't even know our little angel sent from above had that sort of vocabulary."

"Honestly, go back to sleep. Or brooding. Or whatever creepy assholes like you normally do this early in the morning." The darkness was suddenly suffocating her, and she placed a leg shakily on the first rung, wincing at how it creaked under her weight.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business." Clarke snarled back, taking another step up.

"Actually, it is my business, since my survival sort of relies on you not running away and leaving us all." Clarke paused on the fifth rung.

"Do you honestly have no faith in me? Of course I'm not running away." She huffed, not missing his small snort.

"You've given me no reason to have faith in you, princess." Clarke merely glared into the darkness, resuming her unsteady climb upwards.

"Clarke, come on." Murphy groaned, "I thought you had more sense than to run away mysteriously."

"I said I was coming back." Clarke hissed down in response.

"Clarke, I swear to god if you take one more step I will scream."

She paused. "Don't you dare." Despite the threat, she placed her foot on the next rung, and hissed when it let out a slow creak. There was a beat of silence, and then:

"HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, THERE'S A BURGLAR IN OUR SWEET, SWEET HOME!"

Clarke nearly fell off the ladder. Murphy's scream seemed to echo in the bunker, amplifying it to an impressive volume. She could hear ruffling and a few vulgarities, and then there was a click and a bright beam of light swept the room, falling on Murphy, who held his tied hands up in front of his face to block out the light.

"Murphy, you have two fucking seconds to explain why the fuck you just screamed." Bellamy's still-hoarse but extremely pissed off voice blared, his angry footsteps thumping against the ground as he approached Murphy's restrained form. In response, Murphy merely nodded upwards, a small smirk gracing his features, and Clarke wanted nothing more then to slap it off.

Wincing as the light flew to her own form, Clarke held her breath, waiting for the accusations to come flying forward. Her back was to Bellamy, but she could still fear his anger, pulsing through the room like a drum.

"Clarke, what are you doing?" It wasn't Bellamy that spoke, but Raven, her voice weak and frail. Finn had begun lighting candles, and as the faint glow slowly spread out, Clarke's stomach began to twist itself into one painful knot. She carefully climbed down from the ladder, ducking her head to avoid the harsh beam of the flash light.

"Can you please turn that off?" She sighed, rubbing a hand across her face tiredly.

"Where were you going?" He shot back, his voice low and dangerous.

"Nowhere." The lie sounded weak, even to Clarke.

"Bullshit. Where were you going?" Clarke glanced behind Bellamy to where Raven was lying, her face covered in shadows.

"Bellamy, please turn off the light." She repeated, sighing slightly as a click sounded and the light disappeared. She could now see his face, his eyes searching her own, and she avoided his piercing gaze guiltily. She took a hesitant step forward, dropping her voice low so only Bellamy could hear.

"Don't freak out, okay?" Bellamy grunted, urging her to continued, "But I… I was going to the Grounders." Bellamy's reaction was almost instantaneous. He took a huge step back, his eyebrows high on his face, and stared at Clarke with a slack jaw, spluttering.

"Why in the hell would you go to the Grounders!?"He shouted, loud enough Clarke could hear Murphy let out an inconsiderate howl of joy.

"Because we need their help!" She hissed, glaring him down. "Raven is hurting, I have no way to save her, but maybe they do! Some sort of plant, or medicine or… or anything!" Bellamy was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Are you fucking out of your mind? Have you forgotten we're at war with them? That they tried to murder us? That they kidnapped our friends?" His face was turning red with frustration, his eyes practically wild. Clarke could see Raven and Finn watching them, could feel their eyes boring into her face, but she ignored them, focusing on the rage-filled man in front of her.

"Obviously not! I figured maybe I could sneak in an-"

"Oh my god!" Bellamy groaned, a hand snaking through his hair as he stared at Clarke in utter disbelief. "Are you actually that naive? Are you that stupid?"
"I am not naive!" Clarke snarled back, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You sure seem like it." Bellamy hissed, taking a threatening step forward. "Just because you grew up being allowed to do whatever the hell you wanted with no consequences doesn't mean you can now. This is the real world, princess. Your mommy isn't going to come running to the rescue every time you go dancing through a dangerous situation like some stupid little girl." His hands were waving around wildly, and he was standing close enough Clarke tilt her head to look him in the eyes. She stuck out her chin, trying desperately to look menacing even while he was towering over her, and fixed him with a glare capable of melting ice.

"I'm only trying to help, Bellamy! Raven is… shes…" Clarke let out a frustrated growl, her hands clenched so tight her finger nails cut into her palms. "At least I'm fucking trying!" Bellamy barked out a cruel laugh.

"You never do anything wrong, do you? You're just too special for that. Getting yourself kidnapped and tortured by Grounders is 'helping'. Running away and abandoning us is 'helping'. Every single decision you've made has fucked us over!" He shrieked back, his voice steadily rising. "But you know what? Enough! Stop sticking your self-righteous little ass in business you have no place being! God knows we wouldn't be here if you weren't such a fucking ignorant little child." The pure venom injected in the last word caught her off guard. She took a hasty step back, knocking against the ladder which she grasped gratefully, her hands shaking slightly as they squeezed the cold metal. The bunker was dead silent, and Clarke was sure she could hear the flickering of candles in the deep quiet that enveloped them. Bellamy's chest was rising and falling and his face was still flushed from screaming, but the rage in his eyes was slowly fading. He brought both hands up through his hair once again, something Clarke was beginning to recognize as a nervous habit, and fisted them there, pulling on it slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. No one moved, no one even seemed to breath, and Clarke could simply stare, wide-eyed, at Bellamy, whose eyes remained glued shut.

She knew Bellamy was opposed to her, but she never thought he was that opposed to her. Hell, she'd even thought they'd been getting along. And if anything was testimony to that, it was last night, when he'd been so unbearably kind. Eyes stinging, she tried desperately to gain her footing, to force the look of incredulous shock and hurt to slide off her features. She didn't need to look to know everyone's eyes (save Bellamy's, who's seemed permanently frozen shut) were locked on her face, radiating pity and awkwardness. God, why did she feel so hurt? Shouldn't she be used to this whole hatred thing from Bellamy, seeing as how he'd been doing it since day one?

Without a word, she turned and propelled herself up the ladder, ignoring the way her legs seemed to shake on each rung. Pushing the small trap door at the top of the ladder up and open, Clarke heaved herself out of the bunker, momentarily blinded by the intense light of the morning. Standing stiffly in the small clearing of trees, she took deep breaths of the clean air, willing her legs to stop shaking, willing her heart to stop pounding. Before she was even aware, her legs were moving, and she was hurtling through the forest, crashing into hanging branches and stumbling over roots. She didn't know where she was running, or why, for that matter. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings, mixing themselves together to create a huge, confusing mess: Bellamy this and Raven that, Finn over there and Murphy somewhere else. Frustration blended with anger, and anger with embarrassment, and seemingly every emotion Clarke had felt in the last few days merged together to create one giant pit in her stomach, weighing her down. When her foot suddenly caught on a loose stone and she pitched forwards, landing in a heap on the dirt ground, she barely even felt it.

Curling in on herself, she pushed her face into her leg, trying to contain the small heaves clawing their way out of her throat. One escaped, and she wove her hands into her hair, yanking at it helplessly in an attempt to distract herself. Clarke didn't cry. She wouldn't. Not over something as silly as Bellamy yelling at her. A tear slipped from her eye, which she wiped away unceremoniously.

"I don't care." She whispered, her voice hoarse and muffled against her leg. "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care." Another sob escaped her and she rolled onto her back, her hand pressed over her mouth. She stared at the tops of the trees and the light blue sky peeking through. She bit down on her finger hard, and hissed at the hot flash of pain that seared through her. Tasting blood, she squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing thickly.

"It doesn't matter." She whispered, wincing at how hollow her voice sounded. Clarke knew it was a lie. God, the Earth seemed to know it was a lie, because the sudden cheerful melody of birds sprung up above her, drifting down and surrounding her in a mocking sort of way. Bitterness surged through her. If those stupid birds could be happy, then so could she.

Swiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she heaved herself up, turning in the direction of which she (thought) she came. With one last glare at the treetops and annoyingly pleasant birds, she set off, a sudden determination for who knows what surging through her very being.

Fuck this planet. And, more importantly, fuck Bellamy Blake.

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry for the longer update. I really don't have an excuse, except for the fact that I lacked motivation. Please note, though, that the updates will most likely continue to be that long. This chapter was a little weak, I admit, but no matter. Also, did anyone catch the double meaning behind fuck Bellamy Blake? I thought that was clever. Anyways, thank you to everyone who has followed and/or favorited this story, and to everyone who has left reviews. It truly makes me so happy to know people like it so far, and I love when you guys sort of get into the story and ask questions about it. If you have any questions and/or concerns regarding this story, feel free to leave a comment or message me. Again, thank you so much for reading!