"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Five

"Over the Edge"

Clarke was jerked awake by the door to their room banging open, echoing loudly in the small space. She'd barely registered that there were people in their room when she was roughly jerked up by her arms by two men in black body armor and facemasks. The room was unusually dark and the men were hard to distinguish in the gloom.

"What are you doing?" Clarke asked frantically, her head whipping around to see another pair of men securing Bellamy's hands behind his back while he struggled violently. "Why are you doing this? We didn't do anything. What are you doing to us?"

"Clarke!" Bellamy bellowed as the men started dragging her backwards toward the door.

"No!" she shrieked, trying to dig her bare feet into the floor but completely unable to get traction on the tile. "No! Bellamy!" she screamed, watching as one of the men hit him with the butt of the gun he was holding.

Bellamy crumpled to his knees, blood spouting from a gash on the side of his forehead. His eyes searched for her wildly and their terrified gaze met for a second before the shot rang out.

Clarke watched as Bellamy slumped forward in slow motion. Her world spun before her and she felt herself falling. Falling endlessly, watching the light dim in his eyes.

Hands grabbed her shoulders and she struggled blindly against them, refusing to go quietly.

"Clarke!" someone shouted at her, a voice she recognized, and she knew she should listen but she couldn't. Behind her now-closed eyes she could only see Bellamy falling forward, dead before his head could hit the ground. It was vivid and hideous and would be a sight that would never leave her mind. Never.

Those hands shook her again. "Clarke, you have got to wake up. Clarke!"

Reluctantly she opened her eyes, sure she was about to see the aftermath of that gunshot before her. But she was wrong.

"God, Princess, you were really freaking out," Bellamy said, panting and sitting back now that he was sure she was awake.

Clarke didn't even hesitate to throw herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on to him for all she was worth. He seemed stunned for a moment but then slowly adjusted, hugging her in return if for no other reason than to keep himself from falling over with the force of her affection.

She was shaking. She could feel it. That dream had been the most realistic one she'd ever had in her life. Her heart was thudding loudly in her ears and she couldn't help but take her breaths in broken gasps. She managed to keep tears at bay but only just.

"You were just dreaming, I promise," he said, his chin bumping the top of her head as he spoke. "I take it that wasn't a good one?"

Clarke couldn't even make herself speak just yet, shaking her head in response to his question.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she said softly.

He paused for a second. "You wanna lay back down?"

"Also no," she said, remembering for the first time that he was shirtless and noticing that her lips were brushing the hollow of his neck every time she spoke.

"I hate to break this to you, but you're killing my legs," he replied, loosening his hold on her a little. She could take a hint and let go of him, however reluctantly, and sat back. He grimaced and stretched out his legs.

"Sorry," she said, propping her elbows up on her knees and rubbing her face with her hands for a moment. "I didn't mean to attack you like that."

He laughed softly and Clarke peeked through her fingers.

"I've survived a lot worse," he said. He flopped back down on his side of their improvised bed.

It was quiet for a while after that. She stayed sitting and he stayed laying. She couldn't see his face but she was a little thankful for that at the moment. She was really embarrassed about her reaction to seeing him alive, now that she had time to process that she'd been dreaming.

Bellamy was the one to finally break the silence. "You screamed and I woke up thinking we were being attacked by Grounders," he said. "You screamed my name."

Clarke took a deep breath, the vision of Bellamy falling lifeless before her eyes etched into her soul regardless of whether or not it had been a dream. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I dreamed that…that you…"

"You don't have to tell me," he said. "If it was that bad, maybe you shouldn't."

Clarke flopped back, her hands still covering her face as she laid there on her back. She had a feeling that he was worried the dream involved him attacking her. That she'd called out his name because she'd been afraid of him, not afraid for him. As much as she didn't want to talk about it, she couldn't let him go on thinking that she was afraid of him, even if it had only been a dream.

"I dreamed that they shot you, okay? That the guys in suits and masks came in and started to drag me away and then they just shot you. I thought you were dead."

"It was just a dream."

"You don't understand," she said. "When I closed the drop ship door, when we had to fry the Grounder army, I thought it was going to get you, too. I thought for sure it had."

"Yeah, but I wasn't dead then either."

She rolled on her side, finally dropping her hands so she could look at him. "But I didn't know that. I know what it feels like to think you're dead, okay? And it's bad. It's really bad."

Bellamy's forehead furrowed and he propped himself up on one elbow. He didn't seem to know what to say to that. She wasn't even sure why she felt compelled to tell him, only that keeping it to herself had finally been more than she was willing to bear alone.

Eventually, he turned that half-smile on her, the one he used when he was ready to shrug something off. Somehow she knew it wasn't a dismissal thought, but rather a coping technique of his own. He didn't know how to fix this for her. He didn't know how to erase that feeling.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I might start thinking you liked me, Princess."

She laughed. It wasn't a real laugh but it was far better than crying, which was the alternative. "I refuse to stroke your overly-inflated ego," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that's what your groupies are for."

"What?" he scoffed. "I don't have groupies."

"Well then what do you call all those girls who hang around your tent all the time?"

He seemed to think for a minute and then shook his head, grinning ruefully. "Okay, groupies would definitely be better than that I call them."

"Fuck buddies?"

"Princess," he said, sounding scandalized. "Did you just use a swear word?"

She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Is that really so weird? The idea that I know and might actually use swear words on occasion?"

Bellamy just laughed and laid back down. "To me? Not really. I'm pretty sure everyone else would think you were possessed though."

"I'll just tell them you're rubbing off on me," she suggested. She reached over and pulled the sheet back up.

They didn't talk for a while. Clarke found herself stealing glances as him. Well, staring at him really, if she was going to be honest with herself, memorizing the contours of his face from the side, counting freckles. Anything to keep herself from falling asleep again. Anything to reassure herself that he wasn't dead. He was living and breathing despite everything they'd been through. He wasn't asleep but he did have his eyes closed, thinking. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking about. She had half a dozen questions she wanted to ask him, a few more important than the others, but she couldn't bring herself to break the quiet of the moment.

"Just go back to sleep," he said without opening his eyes. She had no idea how he'd known she was awake. "I'll still be here when you wake up, okay?"

She pursed her lips, deciding that one of these questions needed answering tonight. "How can you forgive me?"

Bellamy's eyes opened and met hers in the darkness. "Forgive you? For what?"

"For closing the drop ship door with you still out there."

He frowned and rolled toward her. "There's nothing to forgive there, Clarke. You did what you had to do. To protect our people."

"But you could have died," she countered. "I thought I was killing you."

He reached over and grabbed her chin, making sure she couldn't look away. "You did what you had to do. You don't need me to forgive you. You do need to forgive yourself, though. Stop beating yourself up over this, Princess."

On an impulse, she reached up and grabbed that hand, holding it tight. "Yeah. Okay, yeah. You're right."

He squeezed her hand in return for just a moment before withdrawing it. "Besides, I need you on your game so we can get the hell out of here."

Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. "Right. Okay. You're right. We're going to figure that out tomorrow."

He smirked. "You know, if you keep telling me I'm right, I'm gonna have to assume the gas has scrambled your brain."

She snickered and rolled over, facing away from him again. "If I keep thinking you're right, I'm going to start worrying about that myself."

He laughed softly and she felt him scoot toward her until his side was pressed against her back. She relaxed into him a little and finally felt like she was safe to go back to sleep.

Clarke was really starting to feel the hunger from their protest. When both of the morning drawers opened again and didn't hold food, she pursed her lips in frustration. She didn't say anything about it though. She didn't want Bellamy second-guessing their protest just because she was a little hungry. She would rather be hungry than bow down to these mysterious Mountain people. They closed that drawer without even touching the cup.

The other drawer held their daily towels and a fresh change of clothes. Clarke was inwardly very thankful for that. Besides the obvious reason, the opportunity to leave their neighbors another message, she was really glad that Bellamy would have a shirt to wear again. It was a far too tempting sight to have him shirtless around her all the time. She was really starting to wonder if the gas they'd been exposed to was supposed to work on multiple layers to trick them into procreating. Otherwise, she couldn't explain her sudden interest in his shirtlessness.

Bellamy stayed out on the bed while she wet her dirty clothes and used them to scrub away Jasper's message. She didn't bother trying to dry it yet because they both still needed to shower. With that chore taken care of, she ran the water in the shower, stepping into the stream with a contented sigh. She was seriously going to have to figure out how to make one of these back at camp once they escaped.

She had just finished rinsing the soap out of her hair when she heard Bellamy dart into the bathroom.

"Hey," he said, breathlessly. "Turn away. I'm coming in there."

"What?" she asked, eyes wide as she did what he asked.

He jerked the curtain open and she was bumped to the back a little as he climbed into the shower, still clad in his shorts from the previous day.

Clarke crossed her arms over her chest just in case. She had her back to him but he was taller than her so she had no idea what he could see and what he couldn't. "What the hell, Bellamy?"

"The gas came on," he said. "And I can't close the door from the inside."

"Oh," she replied. "So we're testing if the water will keep the gas from affecting us?"

He probably shrugged but she couldn't see him. She glanced back over her shoulder and found that he had his back to her. Water was trickling between his tanned shoulder blades, dripping over freckles. With a quick flicker of her eyes, she realized that wet white shorts didn't leave much to the imagination.

She whipped her head back around quickly before he could catch her ogling him. Her cheeks were flushed and she felt the tell-tale tingles of heat in her gut.

Clearing her throat, she asked, "Is the gas bothering you?"

He had to think about it for a second. "I can't tell."

She frowned. "What do you mean you can't tell? Are you turned on or not?"

She could feel the spray of the water adjust as he shifted from side to side a little. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because, Princess," he answered. "I'm standing in a hot shower with a very attractive, very naked girl. If I wasn't…feeling that…I wouldn't be human. So I don't know if it's the gas or if it's just…you know…you."

Clarke felt her heart speed up and she realized he was right. Those feelings of arousal she could detect in herself weren't as strong as when the gas hit but seemed entirely outside of her usual physical reactions to him. Granted, she knew what he had to offer now and that knowledge could be affecting her reaction.

"Okay," she said, steeling herself to ask the question. "From one leader to another, direct questions and answers. What do we do now?"

He took a second to think about that. "You're gonna have to break that down a little more if you want an actual answer."

Clarke bumped her forehead against the cool tile at the back of the shower, thinking. "Okay. I feel the same way that you do. I'm not sure if the…arousal…I feel is from the gas or from you just being in the shower with me."

"Which means we're both…being aroused?"

"Yes."

"And it might not be because of the gas."

"Also yes."

"And you want to know what we should do about that."

"Right."

He groaned and the sound made Clarke bite her bottom lip. Hard.

"Well, if it isn't the gas, that means we have some freewill here to work with," he finally said.

She nodded and then realized he couldn't see that. "Right."

"So we can choose not to act on it."

"Or we could act because we wanted to act on it," Clarke said, closing her eyes while she waited for his answer to that.

He was quiet for a while after that and Clarke could feel herself starting to shake. She'd been out of the stream of water for a while now and although the steam from the shower seemed to be keeping the gas at bay, it wasn't really keeping her warm. She didn't want to admit that the shaking could be because she was nervous.

"Do you…want to act on it?" he asked softly.

She swallowed. "Honestly, I'm a little torn on the subject."

"Walk me through it," he said. His tone suggested he could be talking about anything from tracking to stitching a wound, certainly not what they were actually talking about.

"Physically, I'd like to explore that idea," she said, feeling more and more like a politician as she spoke. "But I'm worried about messing up…whatever it is we are to each other."

He took a little while to think about this and in the meantime, Clarke's shaking turned to full-blown shivers.

"While you're thinking about it," she interjected into his train of thought. "Could we trade places? I'm getting cold over here."

"Oh. Yeah, sure," he answered.

The two of them kept their backs to each other as they rotated places and Clarke was back in the stream of water. It felt so good against her chilled skin that she sighed contentedly, only belatedly thinking that making such sounds seemed to make his…physical feelings…that much worse.

"I think I agree with you," he finally said. "On both parts."

She frowned and was glad that he couldn't see her pouting a little. "I guess that means we're choosing to not act then, right?"

He sighed heavily from behind her and she realized that this decision was just as hard for him as it was for her. "I guess so."

"I honestly didn't know you were such a gentleman," she said in a teasing tone, trying to cover up her disappointment.

He laughed. "Only for you Princess."

"Well aren't I the lucky one then," she grumbled, which made him laugh again.

She jumped a little when she felt his bare back press against hers. Her heart sped up a bit and her breath caught in her throat but she didn't move away. She maintained the contact.

"There's no rulebook for this," he said and she could feel his shoulders sag a little. "I don't know what the right thing is."

She dropped her hands to her side, reaching back and taking one of his in hers. "I don't know either," she admitted as he laced his fingers through hers.

They would get through this though, she knew they would. They would get messages out to the others. They'd figure out how to escape. They'd leave this mountain and take whoever they could with them. Maybe they wouldn't go back to the drop ship, with its macabre field of burned corpses. They would rebuild and take it a step at a time, one disaster at a time, until they could finally just…live. That would be the time to explore this. Right now, with their next meal an uncertainty and their captors a mystery…was not the time to indulge.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and felt him turn and lay a tender kiss on her temple. And in that moment, she knew that the when didn't really matter. What mattered was that they would get the chance to choose it.

"With broken words I've tried to say, Honey don't you be afraid. If we got nothing we got us."

OneRepublic "Something I Need"