Chapter 14

The cold metal of the heavy hatch door was burning against the bare skin on Clarke's hand as she held it open ready to descend once more into her dark escape. The heat of the large bright lantern she had left on top of it, just incase she became disorientated, was burning the other hand. She had come to the surface just long enough to empty one bucket, fill another with snow and throw down some logs from her dwindling supply next to the hatch.

The wind was howling in her ears whipping her hair around her face but the same wind carried his scream straight to her. She recognized his voice instantly. Climbing to the surface her eyes frantically scanned the horizon and she saw him push himself out of a tree by the ravine. He was down, barely moving, and he was alone. She dropped the lantern and scrambled forwards keeping her eyes on him and then she watched him disappear into a snowdrift. She desperately trudged through the storm yelling his name, he was so close. He had stopped moving by the time she got there, only the black heels of his boots protruding from the snow. Her arms shoveled the snow away from where she hoped his head would be with determined fear, relief filling her has her hands met his frozen curls and she cleared the snow from his face.

She couldn't tell if he was breathing so she covered his nose and breathed into him just incase. His lips frozen and stiff beneath hers. Dragging him back to the hatch took too long. The warm glow ahead pulled her forward but as she dragged him by the ankles she kept checking behind to make sure his face wasn't covered. He had to be alive, she couldn't have come this close to saving him to fail now. Surely chance had not led her to empty her pot just at that moment, only so she could watch him die. What was he doing here? Had he come looking for her?

At the hatch there was no choice but to push him down feet first. She winced as she heard him hitting the floor below. Then she followed him down, closing the hatch above her head silencing the wind. She jumped the last few feet to Bellamy's prone body and turned him onto his back. He had banged his head in the fall, or maybe before, she wasn't sure. His skin was hard and cold, too pale, his lips blue. Once again she pinched his nose and breathed into him watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. She listened for his heart beat but all she could hear was the rushing of her own blood in her ears. Her fingers traced a path along his throat but found nothing, she tried again. Bellamy remained still, eyes closed, dark lashes wet against his freckled cheeks.

He was too cold, his body like ice. Clarke began stripping his clothes without care for modesty, she needed to get him warm. Once he was naked she stripped her own clothes and dragged him towards her bed of furs and blankets. She unceremoniously pushed and pulled him, at one point heaving his backside up onto the bed with her shoulder. He was deceptively heavy for such a lithe physique. She tried desperately not to think of him as a dead weight.

Once on the bed she covered him with blankets and then crawled in next to him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and pressed herself against his body. His skin was painfully cold and stiff against hers. She rubbed his body with hers wherever they touched. Massaging his calves with hers, rubbing his back with her palms. Pressing her chest against his. It wasn't enough he was still cold. Her lips hovered near his. "Please!" she thought as she cupped his cheek and brought her lips to his. She breathed warmth into his lungs, willing him to spring to life. She continued until his lips were warm and soft, and moved against hers, parting to allow her tongue to taste his of its own accord. His eyes flickered open and his arms held her loosely. His mouth broadened into a grin against hers as she pulled away.

"You!" he whispered, "Why is it always you?"

And then his eyes fluttered closed once more and Clarke breathed a huge sigh of relief. He was going to be okay.

As Clarke listened to Bellamy breath she knew she should get dressed, yet she couldn't bring herself to move out of his embrace. He was still cold, she told herself. But in truth now that the danger had passed Clarke had relaxed in a way she hadn't done in months. Certainly not since they had landed. Cocooned inside the furs and blankets with Bellamy, she felt completely safe. Nothing could harm her here. It was more than just the bunker. She'd spent every miserable night since she walked away from the camp here, huddled into a ball weeping and jumping at every sound from the outside. Perhaps the white noise of the storm helped. They were completely alone, no one could get to them here, now. They might as well be the last humans on earth.

With that thought Clarke snuggled into Bellamy's chest breathing in the woodsy smell of his skin, accidentally tasting the salt of his sweat on her lips. Bellamy knew her, all of her, good and bad, and she was safe with him. She would rest just a little longer and then she would look at his head wound. Finally the exhaustion of many days caught up with her, and her own soft snoring joined Bellamy's breathier sighs.

He moaned. Clarke stopped breathing for a moment and watched Bellamy's eyelashes flutter as he woke up. He groaned as he tried to sit up and fell back into the bed, before rolling on to his side to face her. She watched him silently as he raised his hand to the dark bruise on the side of his head and winced, quickly taking it away.

Clarke tried not watch as the flickering flame light danced on the curves in his skin, caressing the muscles of his arms and chest. Playing off the sharp angles of his cheeks. Reflecting in the deep chocolate stare of his eyes.

The moment passed and suddenly he was movement. Pushing the blankets away and swinging his long legs off the bed, feet landing with a thud on the floor.

"How long?" Bellamy asked, his voice raspy and dry as he held his head in his hands and looked to the down. Only then did he realize he was naked.

Clarke felt her own blush rise in her cheeks and was glad of the shadows she huddled in. Her eyes traced the taut skin over his feet following his tendons up his calves to his knees. Strong knees she thought and then laughed nervously.

His eyes rose to meet hers sharply, then softened in concern. "Are you alright?" He asked, taking in her bedraggled appearance.

She knew how she must look to him. She hadn't touched her hair with a comb since the wind whipped it around her face as she dragged him back to the bunker. Her arms were clasped tightly around her knees as she hugged them tensely to her chest, a blanket from the bed hanging loosely around her shoulders. If he could see her eyes, he knew she had been crying, hard.

For the briefest of moments after she had woken up surrounded by strong arms, legs tangled, she had been perfectly content. Whatever dream she'd left behind in the fog had been warm and pleasant. Turning her head she had expected to see Finn's face. And then, reality had come crashing in on her and sent her running from Bellamy's arms into this dark corner.

Clarke watched mesmerized as the muscles and tendons beneath Bellamy's skin moved in graceful harmony to bring him to in front of her in one fluid motion. His fingers reached out to brush strands her hair out of her eyes. His look at her earnestly concerned, but she could not hold his gaze. Her eyes dropped to his lips, which he was licking absently and then further. The thought that he was the most beautiful thing she has ever seen popped into her head as her eyes popped up to meet his.

She stammered a little. "I thought you were Finn. I forgot."

He nods. He understands. God he always understands. And then she is flinging herself into his arms, which are strong and warm and safe and He scoops her up and carries her back to the bed as she sobs into his hairless chest. He stiffens a little as he lowers her to the bed and a tiny laugh escapes her lips. He doesn't know about Finn's chest - why would he. Besides she thinks to herself, that isn't even funny and then she's back to crying.

Bellamy lowers himself into the bed next to her keeping a respectful distance. Stroking her hair, holding her back gently. But Clarke wants to be warm again. She wants to feel whole so she presses herself against him and lets him hold her tight. Rocking her gently and making soothing noises into her hair.

When she wakes up she is calm and Bellamy is gone. For one panicked moment she thinks she imagined him being there. Then she hears a shuffling by the door and turns her head to see Bellamy with his bare back to her looking down at the pile of his discarded clothes. If anything he is even more beautiful from this angle, strong broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, down to his tight arse, which twitches as he bends down to retrieve his pants. The noise that rips through the room is epic and Clarke snorts in laughter as Bellamy's jerks upright and turns to face her bright red, pants held loosely in front of him. And then for good measure he grins at her and farts again.

"Good Morning Clarke," he says, a mischievous grin half playing across his face, as he feels the dampness of his pants and decides to drop them to the floor once more, leaving him naked in all his glory before her.

Clarke sits up in the bed gathering her blankets around her and smiles at him as she tells him to "Put it away Bellamy, I'm not that easily impressed."

A moment of adorable doubt crosses his face as he stalks towards her and reaches out his hand before whipping away one her blankets and using it to wrap around himself.

Her squeal and scramble to maintain her decency is all it takes to put the smile back on his face as he sits on the edge of the bed.

Bellamy looks around the room for a moment taking the bunker in and getting his bearings. He had been heading for the bunker to find Clarke.

"How did I get here Clarke?"

Clarke threw Bellamy a concerned look before sliding of the bed still covered and opening a drawer under the bed. She pulled out a light blue shift dress for herself and threw some dark elasticated pants in Bellamy's direction.

Once she was dressed she reached inside her coat and pulled out a small flashlight. Kneeling in front of Bellamy's knees she shone the light in his eyes a couple of times and then whacked him on the knee with it. Bellamy's foot shot up kicking her gently.

"Sorry" he murmured under his breath. Not looking up at Clarke directly. His hands together in his lap.

Clarke put the flashlight away and picking her coat up, and draping it over a chair, before turning to him and pressing her fingers gently along the edge his bruise. Bellamy winced and pulled away slightly, at the same time grasping both her wrists as her hands continued to hover next to his face, palms open. Clarke gave him her best reassuring smile and he lowered his hands to her forearms touching her lightly but allowing her to continue her examination.

Finally she lowered her hands, allowing his own to slide down her arms until she was she was holding them in his lap. She gave them a gentle squeeze and let go, standing up.

"The good news is that you'll be fine, I'm pretty sure. Nothing is broken, everything is working the way it should." She said, in a fine imitation of a ran her fingers through her hair as she spoke, forcing her to recognize the state it was in. "It's not uncommon to lose some memory after a blow to the head like that. Sometimes it comes back sometimes it doesn't." Sitting down on the bed next to him she reached behind her for a comb and began to work on her hair. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Bellamy bent hands covering his face, elbows on his knees and drew a deep breath. They were walking in the snow. The storm was picking up and he'd just taken the lead position. He didn't know what had happened next, but from the knot in the pit of his stomach he knew it was bad.

Clarke watched a violent shiver run through his body, but before she could move he turned to her, eyes burning with pain.

"Did you find anyone else? Was I alone?" The despair in his voice caught Clarke completely of guard. She had never heard him sound so defeated. Not even in the Mountain.

She nodded, moving closer to take his hand in hers again. His eyes pleaded for the answer he already knew wasn't coming.

"No, you were alone. You were yelling. By the ravine. You fell into a snowdrift head first. I didn't see anyone else." She paused for a moment considering her next words carefully. "I'm sorry Bellamy I didn't even look. All I could think about was keeping you alive. Getting you back here. You were dying. " Her voice strained barely a whisper at the end. Finally she couldn't hold his gaze anymore and she didn't know how to ask so she just blurted out. "Was Octavia with you?"

Relief flooded her system as he shook his head gently. A tension leaving her body that she hadn't realized it was holding as an audible sigh escaped her lips. Bellamy's eyes darted to them lingering for a moment before raising to her gaze.

"Monty's dad! And the Bens" His voice croaked. Anguished.

Clarke sat back startled. Monty's dad had not been amongst the survivors she would have known if he were, and who were the Bens that Bellamy cared so much about. She opened her mouth but was silenced before she could speak by the accusation in Bellamy's eyes.

"We were looking for you!" The coldness in his voice pierced Clarke. "They were only here because I made them come looking for you!" The accusation in his voice was loud and clear. His eyes like steel, boring into her soul.