"Up in Flames"
Lucawindmover
Chapter Four
"Binding"
Bellamy closed his eyes, his chest still heaving as he laid on the floor. They'd managed to grab the blanket off the bed on their way down so he wasn't forced to lay directly on the cold tile floor. He could still feel the cold, but it hadn't been a priority when the gas had them under its sway.
Now, as it was wearing off, he found himself getting cold and was thankful that Clarke hadn't moved yet. She was draped across his chest, still straddling his hips, with her forehead pressed into his neck. He could feel her shaking from a combination of the drugs and the exertion.
His arms were down by his sides and he fought the urge to bring them up and wrap them around her. Hugging wasn't something they did. He found himself thinking back to their pre-Mountain relationship. Would they have hugged back then? If something had been emotionally draining or physically taxing? He didn't think so. He remembered touching her shoulder or elbow a couple of times and that had been enough. He was pretty sure she'd done about the same for him. Neither of them were particularly affectionate people, as far as he could figure.
So he left his arms down by his side. Or at least he'd planned on leaving them there…until he felt the tell-tale drip of a tear hit neck and roll back behind his shoulder.
"Dammit," Clarke whispered, reaching up to swipe at her cheek. She sniffled and he knew, knew, that putting his arms around her right then would make it worse. But he did it anyway. It was reflex.
He'd been right. As soon as his arms encircled her, the flood came. She buried her face into his neck and sobbed silently until his shoulder was soaked and she was thoroughly spent. It took her a while to get her breathing back in order but he didn't mind. He hadn't even realized he was tracing circles on her back with his thumbs until she shifted and he was forced to stop.
She sat up sniffling and wiping her face with the bottom edge of her shirt. Even though he was naked and they'd had sex twice now, she hadn't taken her shirt off in front of him yet. So he turned his head to the side so that he wouldn't accidently see more of her than she'd intended.
Clarke dropped her shirt back down and sighed but didn't otherwise make any indication that she was going to get up.
"Are you comfortable up there or something?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
She sniffled and rolled her eyes at him before reaching over to grab her bottoms. She climbed off of him on shaking arms and donned her clothes, keeping her eyes averted as he did the same.
And then they just laid there, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling.
"You know what? We should sleep down here tonight," she said finally, her voice losing the shaky quality that had been present when she was crying.
"On the floor?" he asked. "Both of us?"
"Mmhmm," she answered, nodding. "In protest. We should push the bed against the wall like a couch and we should make a bed down here on the floor."
"And just let the perfectly good bed go to waste?"
"Yup," she answered, the letter sound popping at the end of the word.
Bellamy nodded. "Alright then. Protest it is."
Apparently she'd meant right then. He pushed himself up on his elbows and watched as she rolled the bed against the wall. She came back with the two pillows and the sheet. She tossed him a pillow and then laid hers next to him. But she didn't lay back down. She spread the sheet over his legs and then went back to the bed, sitting on it as if it really was a couch.
Bellamy laid back on his pillow, his arms tucked behind his head. She'd retreated from him, and it was more than just a physical space there. He'd watched as she reconstructed her internal walls while she worked. It was very much a Clarke-thing, he'd noticed. She would feel something intensely for a moment, and then lock it away. He'd seen her do that with Finn, once Raven had come down. After Wells had died and Charlotte had jumped. When the Exodus ship had crashed, killing her mother. But she'd never done that with him and he didn't like it.
"You have to bend sometimes, Princess," he said finally, watching her face. "There's nothing wrong with that. If you don't bend you'll break."
She rolled her head back and looked up at the ceiling, blinking profusely. "Ha, that's easy for you to say."
"No, it's not. Not to you."
Clarke swiped the back of her hands across her eyes and sniffled again. "So crying is how I bend then?"
He shrugged but she wasn't looking at him. "It's better than my usual reaction."
She laughed but she didn't really sound amused. "Oh, you mean punching inanimate objects?"
"Hey, I only punch walls when there're no people to punch."
"That's real healthy."
"I didn't say it was perfect."
She smiled a little and finally turned her eyes to his. They were red-rimmed and tired and held an appreciation that made his heart beat a little faster.
"Would you come back over here?" he asked. "You're killing my neck sitting up there." He knew it was a flimsy excuse to get her to close that physical gap but she either didn't notice or didn't care.
She sighed and made a big show of climbing off the bed and laying down again. And almost immediately she got back up. He watched as she hunted for his blood-stained shirt from before. She turned her back to him and pulled her shirt off, donning his instead.
"Sorry," she said, tossing her shirt toward where the drawers would open again. "It was wet up the back."
Bellamy felt his neck get warm at the comment, watching as she laid back down next to him, settling in this time. "I guess that's my fault," he said.
"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad that it's on my shirt instead of…well…"
"Yeah. That was no easy feat either, just so you know."
She sighed. "Yeah."
It was quiet for a while after that. She grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled on it so he adjusted a little closer to her so that she could get under the covers. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as the bed had been but he couldn't deny the satisfaction he felt knowing they were probably pissing off the Mountain people. It might have been a small act of defiance but it didn't matter. They were exercising what free will they had left and it felt good.
"I'm worried about our people," she said quietly. Bellamy had almost thought she was asleep.
He sighed and rolled on his side to face her, waiting for her to continue.
"I mean, if me and you are having this hard of a time, can you imagine some of the others?" she asked, turning her face toward him.
"Honestly, I imagine a lot of them are already pregnant," he answered. "Or are about to be."
"Yeah," she said, facing the ceiling again. "That's what I was thinking too."
He had nothing to add.
After a moment, she continued. "I feel violated. Really violated."
Bellamy felt his throat close up at that statement. She felt violated. He'd been the one to violate her. He'd been the one to put hands on her when she hadn't wanted it. She hadn't asked for his mouth on hers, she hadn't wanted him inside her. This was wrong. This was all wrong and he'd been the one. He'd violated her. She was his friend, maybe his only real friend, and he had done this to her.
Her head snapped toward him again and it was as if he'd spoken his thoughts aloud.
"No," she said, rolling toward him. "Bellamy, that's not what I meant."
But it was said. It had been said and he'd felt it to the very core of his being. He sat up and turned his back to her. He needed a minute. He couldn't even process his thoughts as his heart sped up exponentially.
"Bellamy, that's not what I meant," she repeated. He could hear her sit up and she placed a hand on his shoulder.
But he couldn't stand it. He'd violated her. He shrugged her hand off, propping his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands.
She moved around in front of him and pulled his hands away from his face. "You did not do this," she said forcefully. "This is not your fault. I didn't say that right. We have been violated here, Bellamy. Both of us. We have been violated by them."
"I'm the one that put my hands on you," he responded. "That and worse. You didn't want that, Clarke. You know you didn't."
"You are my partner, Bellamy. Do not leave me now."
He scoffed, attempting to pull his hands back but she held them firmly. "Where would I even go?"
"You know what I'm talking about," she said. "Don't do this. You are not the monster here. And I need you."
Bellamy clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. He could feel them prickling and for all the bravado he'd put on about bending he still didn't want to give in to this feeling.
"You don't though," he answered thickly. "Our people…those freaked out kids? They need you. Not me."
"That's only half true and you know it."
He shook his head, disbelievingly.
"When we got to the ground, I was prepared to give them instructions. You gave them freedom. Something they'd never had before. And when they were free to choose who to follow, they chose you. You are a symbol of their freedom, whether they realize that or not."
"And how well has that worked out?"
She sighed softly and he opened his eyes, blinking back the tingling. "That's part of the reason I need you now. When we get out of here, they'll need you to lead them back to freedom."
He considered this for a moment, weighing her words and deciding that if she could be hopeful after all of this, maybe he could be too.
"What's the other part?"
"The other part of what?"
He shrugged. "You said that was part of the reason you need me. What's the other part?"
She reached forward and grabbed his face in both her hands. The motion felt more intimate than anything he'd experienced with Clarke before and his throat went dry.
"The other part is purely selfish," she said. "I don't want to do this without you. You are important. And if you won't believe that you're important to them, just know that you are important. To me. Got it?"
And just like that, he did. He felt his heart swell up. She might be the only person on the planet that didn't see him as a monster, who knew what he was capable of and what he'd done and still believed in him. That look in her eyes, he knew it. He felt it too. He was hers and she was his and it didn't have to be romantic to be strong and true.
"Got it," he said thickly. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his forehead and just as wrapping his arms around her had broken her walls, that simple gesture broke his. He didn't even know where all the tears came from but he knew that she wouldn't say a word about it.
Bellamy was laying back on the bed, trying to seem indifferent as Clarke opened the bathroom door and excused herself inside. He didn't want to give anything away to the Mountain people who were probably watching their every move. The dinner drawer had come and gone with another empty cup and no actual food. He knew they had to be getting antsy at this point. He hoped that some of their people were also protesting but they had no way of knowing. He was already hungry, seeing as he'd mostly skipped breakfast and neither of them had eaten lunch. But he wasn't about to admit that out loud. He didn't want Clarke second-guessing their decision to protest just because he was a little hungry.
He listened as she turned on the shower and waited with every ounce of patience he possessed for her to tell him whether or not the initials message had been received.
"Ha!" she finally exclaimed, her voice echoing in the tiled room. "It worked! Bellamy, I can't believe it but it worked. There's a new message here."
He got up slowly and ambled to the bathroom, leaning in the doorway. He attempted to look nonchalant, crossing his arms. "What's it say?" he asked. He couldn't see the mirror well from where he was standing with his back to where they'd decided the camera must be.
"It says "J.J. A. RUOK."
He frowned. "You have any idea what that means?"
"I think J.J. is Jasper Jordan. Jasper is over there and he's asking if we're okay," she said. "But who is A?"
"That grounder princess, wasn't her name Anya?"
He turned to see Clarke's eyes go wide. "Oh my God," she said. "Yeah, she was on the drop ship when we fired the rockets. She was with us when the Mountain people came with the gas. Jasper is in there with her? She's gonna kill him."
Bellamy shrugged. "Maybe not. I mean, he lived long enough to get a message to you."
"Well I guess there's that," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not sure what they wrote with. I don't think it was grease though."
He decided it wouldn't be horribly alerting if he just went into the bathroom with her so he did, moving over to touch the words on the mirror. He brought his fingers up to his nose. "I think this is soap."
Clarke rolled her eyes as if she should have known that. "Of course. You know, that makes more sense than the grease and isn't so out of place either. That'll keep us from having to wait for a meal in order to send them another message."
She sighed and reached over to turn off the shower. "But we will have to wait until they send us more clothes and towels. I can't wash and dry the mirror without towels. And it'll have to be dry for the soap to get a clear message across."
They left the bathroom together and as they did, the lights dimmed.
Bellamy felt Clarke go still beside him and he knew she was waiting for the same thing he was. For the gas to start.
But it didn't. The regular vent kicked on and that was it.
"Huh," he said, taking this as a sign that it was safe to move on. He took his spot on the right-hand side of their make-shift bed. "I guess that dose earlier was enough for the night."
Clarke made her space next to him, slipping under the sheet while he held it up for her. "Apparently," she said, lying on her side so that she was facing him.
But they were both still tense, neither completely sure that they were right. He felt like at any minute that gas was going to start pouring out again.
"I don't know what's worse," Clarke finally said, yawning. "Being gassed or being stuck waiting for the next batch."
Bellamy rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. The question that her words had brought to his mind was entirely inappropriate but he found that he couldn't keep himself from asking anyway.
"Is it really that bad?" he asked, trying for casual. "You know, being together?"
She was quiet for a lot longer than he'd hoped, long enough to pray on his insecurities.
"It wouldn't be so bad, I think, if we were consciously making the choice," she said, picking her words carefully.
Bellamy smirked in the darkness. "You sound like a Counselor."
"What do you mean?"
"Like your dancing around what you're trying to say."
She scoffed. "Okay, well then so do you. You asked that question in the safest possible way."
"Okay, you want direct?" he asked. "Is the sex good?"
He rolled his eyes toward hers and he saw her grin before she looked away, trying and failing to wipe the expression off her face. "Yes," she said. "How's that for a politician answer?"
"That," he responded, "Was a leader's answer."
She laughed. "So being a leader is about being honest about good sex?"
"Being a leader is about answering a direct question with a direct answer."
Clarke seemed to think about that for a moment. He could see the wheels in her head turning and knew her well enough to know he'd stoked her ego a little.
"Okay," she said, turning her eyes back to his. "As long as we're being honest and asking direct questions, is the sex good for you, too?"
"You sure you don't want my politician answer?" he asked with a smirk.
"Bellamy."
"Yes, Princess," he said, laughing at her expression. "It is. It really is."
He thought he glanced a quick smug look on her face before it broke into another yawn. "We should get some sleep while we have the chance," he said. He rolled on his back and tucked his arms back behind his head. "Who knows whether or not they'll decide to dose us in the middle of the night."
"Good point," she answered, rolling on her other side away from him. And then she had to scoot back toward him in order to stay under the sheet. He moved a little close to her too, until her back was almost against his side.
He found himself yawning and desperately wished he could take his own advice. But he could tell Clarke had more she wanted to say. The silence in the air hung heavy between them but he waited, letting her take the time she needed to phrase whatever it was she had on her mind.
"I'm glad it's you," she said quietly. "That you're the one in here with me. I…don't think I'd be handling this nearly as well if I'd been in here with someone I didn't trust."
"You don't wish it was Finn?" he asked, immediately regretting the question.
But she didn't even hesitate. "No. I mean, I like Finn. For a while I really liked him. But I don't trust Finn like I trust you. And I need that more than anything right now."
Bellamy wasn't sure when he'd earned that trust but he'd take it. He'd rather be trusted than liked any day of the week.
"Okay, you're totally gonna rub that in his face the next time you see him, aren't you?" she said. Even though he couldn't see her, he knew she was smiling.
"Oh yeah," he replied. "I've been waiting for a while to have one-up on Spacewalker."
She laughed lightly and shook her head, burrowing her face into her pillow a little more.
It was quiet again for a while and this time he knew it meant that she'd fallen asleep.
He took the opportunity to shift a little more, pressing his side to her back. In her sleep, she relaxed against him. With a long sigh and a yawn, he was finally able to let himself drift off too.
"That these are the days that bind you together, forever. And these little things define you forever."
Bastille "Bad Blood"