Sorry is Never Enough
Disclaimer: I don't own the 100 or its characters.
Author's Note: This is kind of a short chapter and there is a sudden jump in time, but it will all make sense in due course. I know these are not the longest chapters, but I'm trying to keep the flow natural. Thanks again for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following! You're all awesome! :)
Chapter 5
Several weeks later…
A sudden cacophony of noise spreading throughout the camp jarred Bellamy from sleep. He was in his tent with a girl curled on either side of him. A thick fog had gathered, bringing a chill to camp during the night and they protested as he pushed himself to his feet to find out what was happening at such an ungodly hour. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon as he stepped through the tent flap and saw a crowd gathered around the last opening in the fence. Several faces turned to him as whispers ran through the crowd. The foreboding was palpable and it shocked him to silence, the rarest of states for him.
He made his way through the crowd to fully see the opening and what was demanding the attention of every remaining member of the 100. A lone grounder approached carrying a limp body with blonde hair trailing in the soft breeze. He knew immediately that it was Clarke and that the trepidation of the camp's members came from seeing their long-lost healer in a state of such vulnerability.
The crowd formed by the 100 parted as the grounder drew slowly closer allowing Bellamy to step forward. Octavia was by his side at once, prior harsh words forgotten and replaced by the same fear he could feel brewing even in his own scarred heart.
"That's not one from the grounder clans we've seen, Bellamy. The clothing is different and he's not currently trying to kill us. What do you think he's planning?"
His eyes didn't leave the grounder, subconsciously refusing to look lower, at the ghostly pale woman lying unconscious in his arms. "I don't know. He's approaching alone but we have no idea what or who is in the trees. This could be a big trap."
Turning to address the guards and the rest of the crowd without showing his back to the grounder, he shouted for everyone to gather weapons and take cover. "There's no point in just standing here waiting to be attacked, at least act like you haven't wasted time the time we've spent on training!"
Octavia grabbed his arm as he turned back, forcing him to look into her eyes. There was a desperate question there. "What's your plan, Bellamy? Are you going to let him use Clarke as a bargaining tool or are you going to shoot him while he's carrying her?"
A lance of pain shot through him at his sister's thinking he was that callous. "No, Octavia, but I am going to protect this camp." He winced momentarily as he spoke what he was thinking. "What if she's dead and he's just hand-delivering the body as a warning? She's been gone for weeks now. He doesn't look like he's armed, but I'm not going to stake the lives of everyone here on that. Get a weapon and get out of the way so I'm not worrying about you."
What he thought was a rough declaration of brotherly love made her appear more angry than afraid. Her voice dripped acid as she shoved away from him, saying, "I don't need you to worry about me. I need you to be the kind of leader Clarke thought you could be. Don't let her die because of your pride."
She stalked away from him and he turned his full attention back to the grounder who still seemed to be walking impossibly slowly. He had finally made it within fifty feet of the fence before abruptly stopping at a seemingly invisible boundary marker.
Bellamy spoke swiftly and quietly to his lead guards telling them, "He's giving us a wide berth. That's a good sign." They nodded quickly, eyes still giving away their uncertainty of the situation at hand. That's why I'm a good leader, Bellamy thought, I can handle this.
Several tense moments passed before the grounder spoke. His English was unstilted, but Bellamy noticed a distinct accent that he couldn't place. It lended a certain dignity to his tone as he shouted across the divide, "I mean you no harm. I have not come here to fight you. I have brought this woman back to you as she belongs to your tribe. She should not break from you again. Do not break from her."
Bellamy could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on him as though the last of the grounder's words were spoken directly to him. He knew he had pushed Clarke to the point of no return and, by some miracle, she had been brought back to them. They were asking him to fix this and make it right.
He didn't know how to make this right, but he knew how to lead, so he shouted back to the grounder, "Thank you. By your kindness, we are a tribe undivided."
Bellamy wasn't sure where the words had come from, but they must have sounded sincere because the grounder nodded in the distance and lowered Clarke gently to the earth. He tucked a small object into the pack that he set beside her. Kneeling further, he whispered in her ear. He stood, looked to Bellamy and the camp, nodded once more and turned, walking with his back straight and his gait slow, moving steadfastly toward in the direction he had come.