Bellamy

Even after Octavia returned to the tent and went to sleep- choosing the middle bed specifically to separate him from Clarke, as they both well knew- Clarke still hadn't come back from her meeting with the commander. Bellamy stayed up, waiting for her, anxious to hear what her response would be.

Finally Clarke returned, hesitating in the entrance to the tent for only a moment before coming inside. He tried to make eye contact with her but she avoided it, so he knew it couldn't be good. "She refused to let us go?" he guessed, keeping his voice low for Octavia's sake.

She shook her head. "No, she accepted our terms and wished us well."

He raised an eyebrow at her and let out a long breath of relief, hardly believing it could be true. So much had gone wrong- were they really just going to be able to go home now? "We should get moving."

After a moment Clarke nodded. "Yeah."

"What's wrong?" he pressed, frowning, moving over to her. When she took a step back at his approach, he stopped. "Clarke, what is it?" Now he was worried.

"Eema…" She trailed off, shook her head. When she looked at him it was guilt he saw in her eyes- not fear or concern or stress, but guilt. Why?

"Eema…?" he repeated, having no idea what she was trying to say. "What-"

"She kissed me," Clarke finished suddenly.

Bellamy felt his chest tighten and the feeling was unfamiliar. He frowned, looked at the ground, and then swallowed a little. "Okay."

"Okay?" she asked sharply, and her tone made him raise his eyes and look at her. There was that look again- the guilt. And surprise, like she hadn't expected him to say that.

On the Ark, he'd never had a girlfriend. Flings, sure, like down here on Earth, but not a girlfriend. No time for something so trivial, and too dangerous for Octavia. And what was Clarke? Were they dating, or were they just stealing kisses in amongst trying to survive? When they went back to Camp Jaha, when all this was over, would Clarke be his girlfriend? He couldn't really blame himself that he hadn't had time to think about it, not really. He'd been busy. But, now that he was posing the question to himself, he found that dating- or whatever the Earth equivalent might be- was what he wanted. He knew Clarke well enough to know it's what she wanted too. So why?

That tightness in his chest bothered him, and he tried to just sit with it for a moment, to figure it out. The closest he could come to placing it was the feeling he'd gotten when he'd caught Octavia in the woods with Atom, and again later, the first time he'd realised she and Lincoln were together. But it wasn't quite the same. So what was this? Anger? Protectiveness? Possessiveness?

Jealousy, he realised. Yeah, it was definitely jealousy.

The silence seemed to be too much for Clarke and she pulled him out of his thoughts by saying his name- quietly, hesitantly. Guiltily.

Bellamy looked at her. "Well… did you kiss her back?" As soon as the words left his lips he felt a bit embarrassed, feeling very much like a teenager right now.

He remembered Clarke was a teenager as an anguished and remorseful expression slipped over her face and she nodded. "I didn't mean to," she said.

Bellamy's jaw tensed without his permission. "You can't kiss someone without meaning to, Clarke," he retorted, a little more harshly than he'd meant.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and clasped her hands in front of her stomach as he eyes stayed on the dirt. "You can when they're inhabited by the spirit of your dead-" She broke off, as if uncertain how to finish that sentence, maybe unsure as to how to define Lexa's relationship to her, maybe embarrassed at admitting that she was more sold on the idea of reincarnation than she let on.

He released a long breath before shaking his head. Part of him could understand- Clarke had killed Lexa, must have felt horrible guilt for that, and now to feel like she wasn't totally gone, that maybe Clarke had a chance- not a chance to be with her, but at least an opportunity to resolve her feelings… yes, he could understand. But that didn't mean he was fine with it.

This situation was just too much- it was clear Clarke didn't have feelings for Eema, and it felt ridiculous to be jealous of a dead woman. Even though he was.

He watched the guilt and pain chase themselves across her face as she stood there, eyes on the ground, clearly feeling terrible. Maybe this was the closure she needed to truly move on, to prevent Lexa's ghost, her memory, from interfering with their relationship going forward. He hoped that was all it was. Because he did want them to go forward. And despite what she'd just confessed to him, he was pretty sure she did too.

But even after all that, the truth was he was simply too tired dwell on it for long, to be angry or even hurt- he just wanted to get his sister and Clarke back to Camp Jaha in one piece. Anything else seemed trivial. Anything else, he could worry about later.

He was aware that Clarke was still looking at him, still expecting some kind of response, but he only said, "Let's just wake Octavia up and go home."

"Octavia's already awake," his sister spoke up before Clarke had the chance to respond. Bellamy cringed a little, not sure if it was with embarrassment or dread.

Throwing off her furs, she got out of bed and stalked over to Clarke, getting right into her face, her blue eyes full of anger. "I can't believe you did this," she snarled.

"O, stop it," Bellamy snapped, getting annoyed with both of them. They didn't have time for this. "We have bigger things to worry about than my feelings."

"I warned you," Octavia said to Clarke, and then she obeyed him, turning on her heel and starting to gather their few possessions together. Her movements were angry, tense, but he didn't have time to indulge them.

"I'll go get Lia," Bellamy said. "So help me God, if you two don't just stay here and get ready to go..." He let that comment hang in the air, and before either of them could protest, he was stalking out of the tent and making a beeline for where the prisoners were being held.

He knew he shouldn't have been surprised when Clarke rushed after him, but he was. Then again, surprise might not have been the right word. He felt her fall into step beside him and he glanced sideways just in time to see her raise her hand to touch his arm, then think better of it, dropping it to her side again.

Bellamy stopped walking and he put his hands on Clarke's shoulders. "We're fine," he told her firmly.

She met his eyes and gave him a dubious look. "How?"

"Because we're leaving here. We're going home and that's all that matters right now," he answered her question frankly. "And because your lips don't belong to me."

A tiny smile spread over her face but then she banished it with a shake of her head, her lips pulling back a little at the same time. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Look, Clarke…" He heaved a deep breath and asked, "Do you want this? Us?"

This time she did touch his arm and she nodded immediately as she said, "Yes, I do. I want this."

He was surprised at the rush of relief he felt at those words. "Okay then," he replied, reaching up and covering her hand with his, giving it a squeeze before letting her go. "So no more kissing other people, okay?" He was trying to make a joke of it, but he was serious. He wanted that out in the open- this was her one allowance to make a mistake like that.

Clarke didn't even attempt a smile as she nodded. Softly she said, "I'm still sorry."

He shrugged and glanced away for a moment, letting a breath out between his teeth, and then turned back at her. He saw that she was telling the truth, her eyes still full of that guilt. After a moment he said, "You're not my girlfriend."

The pain that flashed through her eyes was sudden and deep, and instantly he regretted his words- or at least, regretted the way she was obviously interpreting them. He'd only meant that they'd made no declarations of exclusivity yet, that things had still been too new to even discuss what this was, though it was obviously something, that he really didn't have a right to be angry. She wasn't his property, and he'd watched enough men treat women- treat his mother- like property that he was determined to be different. Still, the look on her face made him feel like an ass. "Clarke-"

"No, it's okay," she said quickly. "We're fine- like you said." Awkwardly she added, "The Commander told me she'd give us fresh horses. I'll go get them."

He would have rather kissed her than talk business, but he just squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing himself to switch gears and nod his head. "And I'll get Lia," he answered. "We'll meet back at the tent."

Clarke gave him a tight smile of agreement and then hesitated for only a moment before hurrying away from him. He watched her go, feeling too many emotions to sort through right now- enough to give him a serious headache. But he knew he couldn't focus on any of that. He just had to get all of them out of this camp before somebody changed their mind and everything fell apart again.

Moving toward the stockade, he could see Lia and the other Ice Nation prisoner sitting close together, each tied to their own stake in the ground, their hands bound behind them. He now knew those cuffs were only a formality in Lia's case, but he also knew he couldn't let on to her guards that that was true. Instead, he lingered nearby until she noticed him and then gave her a pointed look that he hoped explained everything. She seemed to think so, as he saw her give him a subtle nod before she closed her eyes, pretending to be sleeping against the stake. Message delivered, Bellamy headed back to the tent, where Octavia was crouched outside next to the flap, fuming at their packed bags.

"I don't want to hear it," he said as he reached her, trying to preempt a fight.

She ignored him and unfolded to her feet, baring her teeth at him. "How could she do that? It's bad enough she cheated on you, but with Eema? She's known her for less than twenty-four hours!"

"It's not about Eema," he said a slight roll of his eyes. "And she didn't cheat on me, they just kissed." He added, for Clarke's sake, "It's complicated. But I'm serious, O- I don't want to talk about it."

"So that's it?" she snapped, looking disappointed in him. "She just gets a free pass to break your heart? Again?"

"Octavia-"

"No, you're going to just forgive her, aren't you?" she interrupted, toeing the ground with her boot, angrily kicking at a pebble until it was loose enough to pick up and hurl past the tents and into the meadow. "Like you always do."

He let out a long breath. "It's complicated," he said again. "And it's none of your business."

"You are my business," she said quietly.

He softened a little and reached out, squeezing her shoulder. "I'm okay," he assured her. "I can handle this, O. I need you to trust me. And no matter what else I feel, it's not important right now. We just have to get out. Okay? No matter what else, I need you to live- both of you." It was the simple truth; he needed Clarke and Octavia to be alive, or he knew he'd never survive the grief that would follow. So it was simple- it had to be. There was no time for it to be complicated. Complicated could wait.

But for Octavia, everything was always too simple, especially when anger and betrayal was involved. "No, Bell, where does it end?" she growled. "She let that missile drop onto tonDC and kill hundreds of people… and she thought one of them was me." She could have used a dozen different examples, but he knew she'd used that one because it was one of the ones that hurt him deepest, and he cringed even as the words left her mouth. He knew that, had Octavia died in tonDC when that missile struck, he couldn't have forgiven Clarke- not ever.

But she hadn't died, and now he and Clarke were building something together- something he didn't want to stop. Octavia's protests only frustrated him.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said again, more firmly. "End of discussion."

"No, that's not good enough!" she snarled, shaking her head. "We're going to talk about it. Right now."

"Dammit, Octavia, don't you think we have bigger things to worry about?" he exploded at her, keeping his voice a hiss, not sure who might be listening. "I don't care about anything else right now, okay? We need to get the hell out of here, we need to get me off this drug, and we need to get ourselves home. All of us."

Her whole body suddenly stiffened and she shook her head. "No," she said, her voice choking up. "Not all of us."

He closed his eyes briefly, realising his mistake. "O…" He reached for her, but she shrugged him away roughly.

"You're right about one thing," she snapped, her eyes full of tears. "We need her to fix you- I get that. But after that, she and I are done. And if you want to be with her, then you and I will be done too." He watched her eyes widen, watched her swallow a little in shock as soon as the words left her lips, realising the magnitude of what she's just said.

Bellamy shook his head, trying to will the anger out of himself, feeling his heart pounding in his chest as he did all he could not to escalate this fight. "You don't mean that," he said finally.

Despite her clear and instantaneous regret, her stubbornness won out and she snarled, "Oh yes I do."

He lost his patience completely and then all he could feel was angry- at Octavia, at Clarke, at Eema, at himself… he felt the rage boiling up inside him and as much as he tried to push it down, he couldn't seem to do it. He couldn't even yell at her anymore, he was so angry. He could feel that tightness in his chest, that strange fluttering, that he'd felt after the attack he'd had in the woods. He turned away from her, taking deep breaths, his hand on his chest.

"Bell?" she asked, her voice suddenly tender and frightened. "Are you okay?"

But he was too angry to respond. He ignored her and went to their bags, searching through them for a canteen of water, hoping a long drink would help him calm down.

Loosening the strings on one of the satchels, he pulled it open and then froze. He hadn't found water at all, but instead he was looking at vial after vial of Red, the injector sitting on top, already loaded with a full ampoule, ready for his next dose. Clarke must have hidden it somewhere in the tent, but now that Octavia had gathered all their things together for the journey, here it was, right in front of him. So accessible.

Holding the leather sides of the bag tightly, he just stared at the drug, and he wanted it so badly- all of it. It was so close to him, so tangible, and it would be so easy to just reach out and take it. He could almost feel the sweet relief he knew it would bring him, the immense pleasure that would override this anger he was feeling, that would calm his heart and make him comfortable.

He felt himself break out into a cold sweat, felt his hearing fade as his vision tunneled down until all he could see was the Red. His hands started to shake as he fought for control- fought hard, but felt himself losing. As if his hand belonged to someone else he watched it reached out and slide across the cool metal of the injector, watched the fingers close around it, watched himself lifting it up.

"Bellamy!" Octavia's voice rang out suddenly from beside him, jolting him, making him wonder just how many times she'd called out his name. He wanted to look at her, only he couldn't tear his eyes away from the Red. But she was already moving, and she grabbed at his hands, seizing the injector, trying to pry it loose from his grasp.

Something snapped inside him as he realised he was about to lose his chance, and he shoved her away roughly, his grip tightening even more on the injector as Octavia stumbled in surprise and hit the ground with a thud. Quickly she scrambled to her feet and yelled, "Bell, don't! She isn't worth this!"

But his sister didn't understand- this had nothing to do with Clarke. This was an addiction, pure and simple. The desire for Red was like the relentless swells of a choppy sea, and he was going under fast.

"Bellamy, no!" Clarke yelled suddenly from the other side of him. She and Octavia flanked him and he found that even worse. He felt cornered and that made him want to defend the drug even more, the urgency growing to get it while he could in case they got to him and took it away.

"Get back!" he yelled at them, clutching the injector and the bag of Red to his chest. They were drawing lots of attention now, many of the Fayakru warriors coming over to see what the commotion was about. They didn't understand what was happening yet, but he knew they would soon. He didn't care.

Octavia and Clarke took a few steps back, both of them holding up their hands, palms out toward him, their eyes looking at him in absolute panic.

From deep within himself he could feel that pit of insatiable need, the one-track mind of desire, the knowledge that if only he buried that needle into his neck and released the drug, he would feel so much better. All of this- the sadness, the pain, the rage, the ache of his body, his restlessness, his exhaustion… it would all just disappear. The whole world would disappear and he could finally rest. Didn't he deserve a rest?

But he also knew that if he did this, if he took a full dose, he would become dangerous. Eema's guards would try to kill him, and even if they didn't succeed, he might hurt someone he cared about- or worse. He knew he'd never be strong enough to give himself a small dose, but he wanted this so badly, needed it. He couldn't fight a desire so strong. He felt like he would die if he didn't have it- and have it right now.

Both women screamed when he raised the injector to his neck- Clarke's cry was like a strangled gasp, sickened and full of remorse. Octavia's was more like grief, coloured by terror and disbelief.

He stood there, breathing hard, and with every fiber of his being he wanted to press it into his neck, wanted to let every drop from that ampoule fill his veins, then load another one and another, injecting the entire bag until they were all gone. He didn't care if it killed him. The disgusting truth was, he didn't even care about Clarke or Octavia in that moment, of what he might do to them- all he saw was the Red.

"Don't do this," Clarke begged him, tears slipping down her cheeks as she gave him the most pitiful, pleading expression that he'd ever seen on her face. He could remember how much he cared for her. But it didn't stop him from sliding the needle deep into his neck.

"Bellamy, please," Octavia cried, and her voice was as small as when she'd been a helpless child, and he could remember every moment of raising her, how he'd tended so lovingly to her needs. But it didn't stop him from curling his index finger around the trigger.

It was Lia who halted his madness, appearing out of nowhere and closing her little hand around his, yanking at the injector and pulling him backward. The motion ripped a trench in his neck as she tore the needle away and threw the injector to one side. He collapsed to his knees, then onto all fours, gasping, nearly vomiting with the shock of it all, with the knowledge that he'd missed his chance.

Instantly Clarke and Octavia were on him, Clarke's hand going to the wound on his neck while Octavia wrapped her arms around him and sobbed, pulling back long enough to slap him hard across the face before holding tightly to him again. His cheek stung, his neck throbbed, but he barely registered any of it.

"You were going to leave me!" Octavia screamed, her voice going shrill as she seized his shoulders in her hands and shook him violently. He stared at her, hardly believing the look on her face as she continued to scream, "You coward! You were going to leave me all alone!"

"Octavia, stop!" Clarke yelled at her, and abruptly he saw his sister's expression change, saw the gravity of her own words and actions hit her with force, saw her whole face crumble with guilt and absolute anguish. She staggered to her feet, and his last impression of her as she veered out of the camp was her new braids, the coloured strands of thread catching the sunlight as she ran.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though she was long gone, and he felt his tears spill over as he just sat there in the dirt, crying bitterly.

"It's fine," Clarke said quickly, and she seemed worried about him saying anything more. He took the hint and stayed silent. The Fayakru's healer knelt by her side and Clarke used her supplies to tend to the wound in his neck. Bellamy kept his eyes on the dirt, his humiliation too huge, too impossible to face.

"What is this?" Eema's voice came suddenly from nearby.

Her question was followed by quite a bit of back and forth in Trigedasleng, and Bellamy felt himself tense up, worried that the warriors would catch on to the fact that he was a Reaper and want to kill him. But Lia had already absconded with the Red, following Octavia's path out of the camp and toward the woods.

"Everything's fine, Commander," Clarke assured her, and Bellamy saw the awkwardness between the two as they tried not to look at each other. Clarke continued, "He's just upset."

Bellamy saw Eema's frown, saw the way she studied his face, and he knew that she knew the truth. He half-expected her to order his capture, but she just looked at Clarke and said, "Your horses are waiting. I believe it is time that you go."

"I couldn't agree more," Clarke said quickly, keeping her voice polite. She pulled Bellamy to his feet by his arm and hauled him in the direction of the horses. He followed her mutely, everything a blur.

There was more murmuring in Trigedasleng, but then Eema silenced everyone with a word and seemed to order them to disperse. As he and Clarke reached the horses, the commander crept up close to them so no one would overhear. She asked Clarke, as though Bellamy wasn't there, "Will you be safe with him?"

"I'll be fine," Clarke said firmly, almost shortly. "He's safe."

In that moment he felt wretched, guilty, anything but safe… but he didn't protest, he just got onto his horse. "We need to find Octavia," he said, stringing a sentence together with great difficulty, hoping it would give Eema the impression that he was well in control of himself. Octavia's name conjured up the expression she'd worn as she'd yelled at him- shocked disbelief, horror and total betrayal. She had never looked at him like that before, and remembering it made him feel like crawling into a cave and letting himself die.

Clarke tied the reins of the two extra horses to hers and Bellamy's, and then she climbed up onto her own animal. Looking down at Eema, she seemed unsettled for a moment, but she just said, "Thank you again, Commander."

"Safe travels," Eema answered, seeming equally awkward about this farewell.

Clarke turned her horses in the direction that Octavia and Lia had gone, and Bellamy moved his into step just behind her.

He tried to focus on one moment at a time, on step at a time, and tried very hard not think about how disgusting he felt, how Octavia had hit him and screamed, accusing him of abandoning her, called him a coward.

He tried not to think about how badly he'd scared both her and Clarke, how they'd all just narrowly escaped being attacked by warriors fearful of him, of what he was… and he had no doubts about what he was, what he'd become.

He was a despicable thing, a drug addict, a murderer and a monster. There was so much shame boiling up in his chest, he thought he might drown.