Bellamy
For the second day in a row, he woke to the feeling of Clarke's cheek against his chest, her body pressed close to his, her soft breaths tickling his neck. But this time he was the first to wake, and he smiled softly down at her, reaching his hand up and gently threading his fingers through the long blonde waves. The messy braids Octavia had placed near her face were still there, half undone, and there was the occasional leaf or twig snagged in amongst the strands. Still, he marveled at how soft her hair was, like silk.
Bellamy wanted to just lay here forever, to watch her face as she slept- calm and serene. But on this particular morning, his cravings felt much worse than usual. It was as though his body somehow knew that they were going home today, that he would soon be detoxing and there would be no more Red.
Clarke had voiced her own apprehension about going back to Camp Jaha, but Bellamy had plenty of fears too, almost all of which centred around the detoxification process. He tried to ignore them, but he was scared. What would people think of what he'd become? Would Abby help him? Would she and Clarke be able to keep him alive? How badly would it hurt? How out of it would he feel? Would he hurt someone in the process? Would Octavia be okay without him for as long as it took?
He remembered how, while he and Lincoln walked together to Mount Weather, he'd asked the older man how much he remembered about the time he'd been on the drug- what he'd done, how he'd behaved, who he'd hurt. When he'd seen Lincoln on it, Bellamy had just assumed that the Red made a person so out of it that they couldn't even see properly, let alone understand what was really going on or what they were doing. But Lincoln had answered and told him that he remembered everything, and that the drug was so powerful that nothing else mattered to him- or to anyone else who was on it- besides getting more Red.
At the time, Bellamy had been disturbed by the revelation. But now he understood firsthand just how that felt, and it was horrendous. He couldn't help but think of how horrible detox had been for Lincoln, how much it had hurt him, how he'd broken free and attacked Bellamy, attacked Clarke, attacked Octavia even, despite how much he'd loved her. When Bellamy went through the same process, would he hurt people who he loved, too? Would he even survive?
Clarke's hand was suddenly resting against his cheek, startling him for a moment, and then he saw her blue eyes looking up at him in concern. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said, shaking his head as if he could shake away al those bad thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine." He softened his expression and turned his face, kissing her palm and making her smile. "Sleep well?"
"Very," she answered. "Especially because I know that tonight we're all going to be sleeping in real beds."
Tonight, Bellamy would be restrained and senseless, biting any hand that came near him, his body sweating and convulsing, his cravings for the Red so bad that he'd want to do anything- anything- to stop them.
But he just pushed all those thoughts away and said, "Sounds great."
Clarke seemed to sense that he wasn't being totally honest, but he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed, and they both pretended nothing was wrong.
After they ate, Clarke led him into the forest where they could have privacy while she gave him his Red. He could feel himself already anticipating it, his body coaxing him to walk faster, get that drug into his system as quickly as possible, start feeling good- as though that was all that mattered in the world. The rational part of his mind was disgusted and ashamed, but the base part- the primal part that was fully addicted- only screamed for more.
"Hey," Clarke said, touching his forearm lightly, frowning at him in concern. He wondered how long she'd been talking to him.
"Sorry," he said, a slow blush creeping into his cheeks. "What?"
She frowned, watching him carefully. He knew her trained eye would pick up everything- the slight tremble of his hands, the dilation of his pupils, the dryness of his mouth, the tiny beads of sweat erupting on his forehead.
"Hurry up," he said, without meaning to.
Clarke pulled out the injector, but her frown had only deepened and she gazed at it for a moment before she said, "Bellamy-"
"Clarke, hurry up," he snapped, the squeezed his eyes closed, taking a deep breath that turned shaky. "Sorry."
Gently she said, "It's fine. It's just… lately you've needed a little bit more to get the same response."
"You upped my dose?" he asked apprehensively, his rational mind taking over for a moment as he looked at her.
She seemed guilty as she nodded and explained, "It was the only way to get your heart rate back to normal. I didn't want to worry you."
"Clarke, I need to know this stuff," he urged her. "Don't tell O and don't tell Lia, but you have to tell me. The cravings are worse. I need to know what's going on so I don't hurt you."
"It's okay," she said gently, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. "I know you won't."
"Don't say that," he said, irritated, jerking away from her. "If I get too hopped up on the drug, I will hurt you. You and Octavia." Again he said, "You need to tell me this stuff, Clarke."
"Okay, I will," she assured him. "I promise. Sorry I didn't."
He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding. "Let's get this over with so my sister doesn't make you do a thousand pushups, or whatever it is firsts do to their seconds when they disappoint them."
Clarke smiled wryly, seeming glad for the change of subject, and then she nodded. "Okay," she said, priming the injector. She waited for him to sit back against the nearest tree and then she knelt next to him, finding the pulse with her free hand and using the other to carefully slide the needle into the opposite side of his neck.
The puncture never hurt anymore, which he considered a bad thing. Before he could even feel the prick of the needle, his body was already releasing endorphins so all he felt was satisfying anticipation. Then, when Clarke applied light pressure to the trigger and the drug started seeping into his veins, his eyes rolled back into his head and he felt like he was riding on wave after wave of pleasure. It felt too good now for him to even have room for shame, and he just enjoyed himself for those few blissful minutes that were over far too fast.
When he opened his eyes- having some difficulty due to the heaviness of his eyelids- he looked up at Clarke through his eyelashes and he saw her carefully monitoring his pulse. The look of concentration on her face was adorable, and he couldn't help but think how beautiful she was, how smart and skilled she looked, how grateful he was to her for taking care of him like this, giving him this. He felt her extract the needle from his neck and again there was no pain, just the brief sensation of pulling and then nothing.
"Clarke," he said softly, his voice sounding strange to his own ears- lethargic, a bit sluggish. She met his gaze, and her eyes were like the bluest sky he'd ever seen. Bellamy reached for her, curling his hand into the small of her back and pulling her close until her forehead was pressed against his.
"Hey," she replied, just as softly. He wanted to kiss her so badly, and as soon as the thought popped into his head, his eyes dropped to her lips and he licked his own without even meaning to.
Clarke frowned suddenly as she seemed to read his mind. Gingerly she pulled away from him and stood up. "No," she said gently. "Come on, I'll stay with you until you feel better, but then we have to go back to camp."
Bellamy grabbed her calf and held on, but the strength of his grip was at odds with how loose and calm his body felt. "I do feel better," he told her. "I feel great."
Clarke bent down to pry his fingers from her leg and he grabbed her upper arm, pulling her all the way down and into his lap, his arms winding around her waist. Her hands came up and pushed against his chest. "Bellamy, don't." When he didn't make a move to let her go she said forcefully, "Stop!"
"No," he answered evenly, annoyed- if she'd just cuddle with him, let him kiss her, everything would be fine. She smelled so good, her body was so soft and luscious, and he just wanted to hold her. Maybe they'd see where things would go from there, but for right now she was irritating him, struggling in his grasp. Her attempts to escape only made him hold on harder. "Why are you acting like this?" he demanded, his voice angrier than he intended.
"You're the one acting strange," she retorted, and he wasn't sure if it was anger or fear that coloured her voice, but either one of them made him feel horrible, rejected.
"Clarke," he said firmly, undoing any progress she'd made in extracting herself from his arms as he hauled her closer, her strength no match for his. She was ruining everything- if only she'd be still. She was even taking away the pleasure of the drug, distracting him from his little pocket of bliss. He could feel the quickness of her breath with her chest pressed against his, could feel the fast pace of her heart. He anchored a hand in her hair and drew her lips against his.
The next thing he knew he felt a punch to his throat, then another quick jab to the softness of his stomach, then the sensitive middle of his sternum. His hands relaxed and Clarke threw herself backward, putting herself far out of his reach.
The pain overwhelmed his pleasure and the final effects of the drug wore off, jolting him back into full consciousness. Angrily Bellamy looked around for his attacker, but he saw no one.
His eyes flew to Clarke and he saw her hands still curled tightly, her eyes wide and full of determination.
Guilt slammed into him harder than any fist and he swallowed, glancing away from her, slowly getting to his feet. It broke his heart when she took a step back but he forced his voice to be normal as he said, "I'm good. I'm good now."
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked cautiously, not moving.
"Did my sister teach you that?" he asked her, finally brave enough to meet her eyes again. Maybe she saw his absolute embarrassment and remorse there, because her whole body softened as she nodded her head. "Good," he managed. "You should keep learning." He turned back to their camp.
"Wait," Clarke stopped him hastily, and she hurried over, sliding her palm along his arm. The feeling of electric sparks followed the path of her touch, but only the normal amount he was now used to with her, not the jolts that had ben enhanced by the Red.
With a heavy sigh he turned back to her, taking her hand from his arm and giving it a squeeze as his eyes fell to the forest floor. "Sorry," he murmured.
"It's okay," she said, squeezing back. "I should have been more careful."
"No, no, don't do that, it was me," he protested immediately, shaking his head. "I should have been more careful."
"It's not you, Bellamy." Her voice was so gentle it drew his eyes back to her, and he was relieved to see that- yet again- there was only understanding in her expression. No blame, no anger, no disgust. "It's not you," she said again. "It's just the drug."
"No more," he told her firmly. "Or go back to the lower dose. That was too…" He trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.
"We'll be at Camp Jaha by sundown," she said gently. "There are only a few more doses between now and then. We'll just be more careful."
Drawing in a deep breath, he nodded. "Let's just get back."
Clarke followed him to the camp and made sure he was settled, and then she walked off into the woods to find Octavia. He knew they wouldn't be long, that all of them were eager to get on the road.
Bellamy sat down heavily on a log by the fire and glared into the hot coals, feeling vile and guilty. Without anyone there to distract him, reassure him, he could only hear his own thoughts. He was a monster. A drug addict. One of those men. His mother would have been ashamed of him, seeing him like this.
"You seem disturbed," Lia spoke up, and he jumped a little because he hadn't noticed her sitting there.
"Yeah," he said. "I am." He tossed a glance in her direction and saw her intense blue eyes staring at him in that way they did- unblinking, like a crocodile. He was still grateful to her for all that she'd done for them, but he could do without her presence right now, that cold and calculated little-
Bellamy straightened suddenly and looked at her properly. "Hey," he said. "I need you do something for me."
Lia seemed surprised, but she just tilted her head to the side and asked, "What?"
"I want you to watch me," he told her. "This drug is messing with my head more and more, and I need you to make sure I don't do anything crazy."
"Crazy," she repeated. "Can you be more specific?"
He let out a frustrated breath but tried to be patient. "Yeah. Crazy. I need you to make sure I don't hurt either of them."
"You are all under my protection," she reminded him.
"Great," he said. "Just prioritise them. If you see me do something that isn't right, something that could hurt either of them- you need to put me down. Okay?"
"Put you down?"
He wondered if she was being purposefully dense. "Yes," he said impatiently. "You know, with one of those darts you have. Like you did with O."
"They are not meant for emergencies. Sometimes they do not work fast enough."
He had reached about the end of his tolerance. "Then use your knife," he snapped. "Do whatever you have to do, okay? Just don't let me hurt them."
Lia said nothing for a moment, and then she shrugged. "Very well. I will do what you ask. Whatever I have to."
Bellamy eyed her uncertainly, feeling momentarily unsure of whether that had been a good idea or not, but he still believed what he'd told Clarke- the kid was direct. She wouldn't say something she didn't mean.
"Good," he said, nodding his head, turning his attention back to the dying fire.
He calmed down, hoping that would be the end, but it wasn't. After a momentary pause Lia said, "So now your thoughtless and impulsive love extends to Clarke as well."
He couldn't help a small chuckle as he shrugged a little. "I just need them to live."
"Even if it means losing your own life?" she asked him curiously.
Bellamy shrugged again. "Let's hope it doesn't. But I couldn't live with myself if I hurt them anyway." He looked at Lia and said, "I'd regret it too much, like you with that boy Kol you told me about."
She seemed to consider that for a long moment, and then she nodded her head. "You are all under my protection," she reminded him again. "But I will put Octavia and Clarke first. If it comes to it, I give you my word that I will kill you."
Oddly relieved, Bellamy let out a long breath. It sounded so strange when the only word that came to his lips was, "Thanks."