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Heaven Can’t Wait – Chapter 4

<< Chapter Three | Table of Contents | Chapter Five >>


Chapter Four – Don’t Get Attached

Bellamy wakes again with a jolt. He notices right away his arms are empty, his jacket in a heap next to him. There’s a lot of banging downstairs followed by a string of curses from Miller. Bellamy is on his feet in seconds. What now?

Halfway down the ladder, he pauses to laugh at the scene. Miller is standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, glaring at the little girl. She’s on one of the lopsided crates, growling and snapping at him—her hair and eyes wild.

Miller turns his glare on Bellamy. “Shut up and do something with her. She’s evil. I caught her going through my pack, and when I tried to stop her, she bit me.” He holds up his hand as proof.

Still chuckling, Bellamy hops the rest of the way down. “She’s probably just hungry. She was looking for food.”

“She could have asked,” Miller mutters, returning his supplies to his pack with more force than necessary. “Not that I’d share if I had any. Crazy demon child.”

“Hey kid,” Bellamy says, ignoring Miller’s grumbling. He approaches the agitated girl cautiously, arms out in a placating manner. Her eyes leave Miller to watch him cross the room. “It’s okay—no one’s going to hurt you. But you can’t go around biting people. It’s not nice to bite.”

Miller snorts. The girl stomps her foot at him in what she probably thinks is a menacing way, but even Miller has to smile. She’s too damn cute. “You’re right,” he says, “she is just like Octavia. Annoying, pig-headed, crazy.” He ticks off each example. “Scary,” he adds when the girl growls.

Bellamy tries not to laugh. “She’s just a kid.”

Miller holds up his hand where Bellamy can now see teeth imprints. The corners of his lips are still twitching though. “I’m going to go check outside. Good luck with-” He waves his hand at the girl. “-that.”

The ramp opens with a deafening screech of metal on metal. The girl screams and launches herself at Bellamy, barely giving him time to catch her. She wraps him in a death grip, shaking and sobbing into his shoulder. “Hey,” Bellamy says, trying to pull her hair back so he can see her face. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

He rubs her back as he rocks from one foot to the other, trying to calm her. Eventually, her sobs turn to sniffles. “See, all better,” he whispers. She sniffs and wipes her nose on his shirt. Bellamy groans.

Her grip on him loosens so he sets her back on the crate. He slips her hair behind her ears. She examines him with an intense gaze that he’s sure penetrates right into his soul. Her head tilts like she’s trying to figure something out. The movement is so familiar now it makes Bellamy grin.

But then she reaches out suddenly and touches his lips, startling him. He doesn’t dare move. Her other hand slides down his cheek. She watches him with this sad, haunted look in her eyes that breaks his heart.

“Come here.” He wraps her in a tight embrace. “You’re going to be okay now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” You can’t promise her that, says the voice in the back of his head. Not in this world. You can’t even protect your own sister. He swallows hard.

But I can try.

She doesn’t cry this time—she just rests her head on his shoulder, thumb in her mouth. Her other hand drifts up his neck until her fingers twist into the curls there. She sighs softly. Don’t get attached, don’t get attached, don’t get attached.

“Storms over,” Miller says, jogging up the ramp. His voice sounds way too loud in the small space. “You should see this, though.”

Bellamy sighs and follows Miller outside, the girl tightening her hold as they leave the safety of the dropship.

“Look,” says Miller, pointing at the ship. “There and there.”

“What am I looking at?”

“The holes. I think the rain ate through the dropship. At least the outer hull.”

“Shit.” Bellamy moves closer and runs his finger over an almost perfectly round hole. He quickly pulls it back, the tip blistering. “Still some acid on it.”

Miller shakes his head. “That can’t be good, right? Is the Ark going to make it? What if the rain just eats through that, too?”

He’s starting to sound a little panicky. Bellamy’s barely keeping his own anxiety in check. “We’ll be fine. Raven and Monty know what they’re talking about. The dropship wasn’t made to withstand prolonged elements or radiation. It was just supposed to get from point A to point B.”

“From the Ark to the ground. Through the blazing fire of reentry,” Miller says flatly.

Okay, he has a point. Bellamy looks back at the dropship. “It was pretty banged up in the landing. And we kind of roasted it. It’s been through a lot. The Ark is in better shape.”

Miller scoffs. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?” Can it be both?

Bellamy shoots him a glare just as the girl shivers violently. It’s early morning—the sun barely up—and the wind is blowing down from the mountains. It’s a little on the chilly side of spring. He returns to the dropship, Miller following.

“Can you watch her for a second?” he says, setting the girl in one of the broken seats.

“Wait, what?”

Bellamy climbs the ladder two rungs at a time and quickly rolls up his blanket before grabbing the water bottle and jacket. He’s gone maybe three minutes, but when he gets back down, the seat is empty.

“Where’d she go?”

Miller looks up from repacking his bag. “Uh-”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “You lost her already?”

“I didn’t lose her—she’s probably just hiding.”

Probably. She is good at that. Bellamy searches all of the nooks and crannies on the main level. Nothing. Where is she? He glances at the open ramp, his heart rate speeding up. Quickly, he swings his pack over his shoulder and heads outside. “Kid,” he calls. “You out here?” Only silence. Not even a bird or cricket.

He jerks his head at Miller who sighs and starts looking along the left side of camp. Bellamy takes the right. They meet at the gate a few minutes later. Miller shrugs. Bellamy’s chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know,” Miller mumbles. At least he looks abashed. Bellamy still wants to punch him in the gut.

“You were supposed to be watching her. I was gone for less than five minutes and you lost her.”

“I’m sorry, okay? She couldn’t have gone far—her legs are short.”

Bellamy knows he’s joking, but he’s not in the mood. He shakes his head as they exit camp. The forest is a big place. How are we going to find her? It was dumb luck last time. Miller has one thing right, though—her legs are little. He figures she couldn’t have gotten more than a hundred yards away.

Miller smacks his arm. “I have a hunch. This way.”

Bellamy thinks about arguing, but what’s the point? They have to start somewhere. He follows Miller, but the farther they get from camp, the more nervous he gets. “Miller-”

“There,” Miller says, triumphantly.

He looks to where Miller’s pointing at a tiny footprint in the fresh mud. They follow the prints until the trees open to a patch of sunshine. The little girl is sitting in the middle of the clearing—her hands skimming over the top of the grass as she hums.


Miller lets out a whistle. Suddenly, hundreds of butterflies break from the trees. Their iridescent wings sparkle in the sun. It has a magical effect. The girl giggles. Miller shrugs at Bellamy’s confused look. “Octavia had a thing for butterflies. She came here a lot.”

Relief floods Bellamy. He finally feels like he can breathe again. He squats down in front of the girl who holds up a puffy dandelion with a smile. Bellamy chuckles then blows on the flower until the individual little seeds flutter away on the breeze. “You can’t go wandering off like that,” he tells her softly. “You could get hurt.”

She has no idea what he’s saying, but sometimes it almost seems like she understands. She stands then walks right into his arms, hugging him around the neck. Bellamy bundles her in his jacket with a sigh.

Miller waits at the edge of the clearing, pretending not to be amused by the entire situation. “Octavia might get a little pissed that you’re replacing her.”

Bellamy snorts. Doubtful. “Let’s just go before anything else can go wrong.” In the distance, he can already see dark clouds gathering, mirroring his thoughts. As if we could get that lucky.

<< Chapter Three | Chapter Five >>


The 100 fanfic: Heaven Can’t Wait

The 100 | [PG-13]
heavencantwaitCanon divergent. With the Apocalypse banging at their door, the Arkadians and what’s left of Trikru take refuge in the remains of Alpha Station and hope for the best.

Over 500 souls crammed into a tin can, but there’s only one that has Bellamy wrapped around her little fingers. Written for Camp NaNo: heaven.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – Can’t Save Everyone
Chapter 2 – One Live Saved Is One Life Saved
Chapter 3 – Not Alone Anymore
Chapter 4 – Don’t Get Attached

Heaven Can’t Wait – Chapter 3

<< Chapter Two | Table of Contents | Chapter Four >>



Chapter Three – Not Alone Anymore

What was that?

Bellamy jerks out of the first solid sleep he’s had in weeks. Something woke him, but his foggy brain is struggling to catch up. He blinks bleary eyes around the dark dropship. Miller is curled into a ball on the other side of the room, a bottle of Monty’s moonshine cradled in his arms. Where the heck did he find that? A loud bang from above brings him out of his sleepy stupor. He sits up straight and goes for his gun, heart racing. Then he looks down at his jacket discarded over his legs. The girl.

He grabs a lantern and quickly climbs the ladder, searching the darkness for a small body. “Hey kid,” he calls softly. “Where’d you go?”

Something drops to his left, rolling across the metal deck. He tip-toes towards the noise, not wanting to scare her. The light finally catches on her eyes glowing from a crevice between some crates, an empty tin of food in her dirty hands. Bellamy squats in front of her. “Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing up here alone?”

She cocks her head, wedging herself in tighter. Bellamy eyes the tin. “Guess you’re hungry, huh? Why don’t you come out here, and I’ll see if I can find some food?”

She clutches the tin tighter like she’s afraid he might take it away. He taps his knee then leaves her there. Downstairs, he grabs his pack and jacket. Miller rolls over, the moonshine clattering to the floor. Bellamy picks it up, setting it on the casing to the door lever with a sigh.

Back upstairs, the little girl is gone from her hideout. He sets his stuff down on one of the seats then pulls out a small bag and bottle of water. “Kid? Where’d you go? I’ve got something for you.” A shadow catches his attention as it moves across the wall to his left. He finds the girl under a pile of seats and empty crates. She wraps her arms around her legs and stares up at him through a curtain of stringy hair. She’s so tiny. How has she been surviving? Why hasn’t anyone come for her?

The answer frightens him. Because they’re all dead. And she’s alone. Bellamy sits down on the other side of her “cave” and shakes the bag again. “You hungry? It’s not much, but it’s not bad,” he says, popping a dried berry into his mouth. Her little head raises. She licks her lips as her eyes track him eating another berry. Her stomach growls so loudly, Bellamy can almost feel it himself.

“If you come out, you can have some.” When she still doesn’t move, he eats a few more berries and takes a long sip of water, wiping his mouth with a dramatic flourish and sigh. Then he sets them down. “You know what, I think I forgot something downstairs. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves his stuff and the light, retreating to the other side of the room. It’s only a few seconds before the girl squeezes out from between the seats. She looks around quickly then snatches the bag of fruit. She sniffs several berries before stuffing them in her mouth by the handful. He’s afraid she might choke as she inhales the food but can’t help smiling.

He creeps closer, but she hears him, dropping the food and knocking over the bottle. She looks from the food to her shelter to Bellamy, obviously unsure what to go for. Bellamy’s amusement vanishes. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hut you.”

Her eyes dart to him for only a second. She grabs the spilled bag of food and darts for the safety her cave. She’s breathing hard when he sits down again, not sure what to do with her. “We just need to get you back to Arkadia. Abby will know what to do,” he tells her even though he knows she doesn’t understand. “You won’t have to be alone anymore.” Because being left behind sucks. I know from experience.

Bellamy scoots back against a crate and crosses his ankles in front of him as he watches the girl eat. When she gets to the bottom of the bag, she tips it up, crumbs falling into her mouth, then starts licking the insides. She must be starving. He wishes he had more food. He did have water, though. He picks up the bottle, getting her attention again, and[-1] takes another slow sip. She stops to watch with her hand over her mouth, fingers sticky with juice. He holds it out to her. “You want some? It’s a little warm.”

She crawls forward and grabs for it from behind her pile of junk, but Bellamy pulls it back. “You’re going to have to come out if you want it.”

She narrows her eyes like she’s considering clawing his eyes out to get to the water. Placing the bottle just outside of her reach, he sits back to wait, eyes closed. He peeks at her when he hears the debris moving. She scrambles over, lunging for the bottle. Except she can’t figure out how to open it.

Bellamy holds back laughter as she gnaws on the lid then bangs it on the ground. Then she completely surprises him by throwing the bottle at his head. He manages to get his arms up in time to block it, but he can’t stop himself from laughing now. “Ow, that hurt. Anyone ever tell you that you have an anger problem?”

Twisting off the cap, he takes a sip before holding it out to her again. She continues to glare, but inches closer, getting more and more angry when he keeps moving it farther away. Finally, she gets up and stomps over, murder in her eyes.

He hands her the bottle, and she guzzles it, water dribbling down her chin. When she’s had her fill, she wipes her mouth and mimics his dramatic sigh. Bellamy laughs. The kid’s a riot. She holds the water bottle out to him, but when he tries to take it back, she jerks it away—a smirk on her face.

“You little snot.” So much like Octavia. Bellamy digs his fingers into her ribs, smiling as she squirms and giggles. Now that she’s more relaxed around him, he carries her over to his bag and wraps his jacket around her. She stands there staring at the sleeves that hang off the ends of her hands all the way to the floor. She flaps her arms, the extra material flying everywhere. It makes her giggle again and Bellamy grins. Giggles might be the best sound in the world. Especially little girl giggles. The weight that’s been pressing on him all week lightens a little.

He shakes his head at the sudden swell of affection then unties his blanket from the pack, spreading it across the floor. As soon as he lies down the girl plops down next to him. With a yawn, she curls up against his chest, thumb in her mouth.

“Guess we’re friends now, huh?”

She just hums. Octavia hummed in her sleep, too. They shared a bed until he was a teen, snuggling under his one blanket. And pressing her freezing feet against my legs just to torture me. He snorts at the happy memory, but it quickly sours as reality settles back in. She can’t even stand to look at me now. It triggers a burning ache in his heart, but he doesn’t blame her. It’s all my fault.

Bellamy tugs the edge of the blanket over the girl and tucks her head under his chin. She lets out a contented sigh as he runs his hand over her matted hair. A moment later, she’s snoring softly—her hot breaths puffing against his neck. He’s surprised at how relaxed he feels in that moment. How can one little girl have that effect on him?

It’s because she reminds you of Octavia, that’s all. Don’t get attached.

He thinks it might be too late.

<< Chapter Two | Chapter Four >>

Heaven Can’t Wait – Chapter 2

<< Chapter One | Table of Contents | Chapter Three >>


Chapter Two – One Life Saved Is One Life Saved

“Would you shut her up,” Miller hisses. “You know these things don’t always hunt alone.”

“I’m trying.” Bellamy pushes back the little girl’s dirty, matted hair—she looks about three-years-old. Her face is caked in mud and tears, but he doesn’t find any obvious signs of injuries. She’s just scared. “It’s going to be okay,” he tells her softly, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “You’re safe now.” She sniffles, smearing snot across her cheek with the back of her hand. He squeezes her shoulders with a smile. “See? You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Miller mutters.

Bellamy ignores him. “Do you have a name, sweetheart?” The girl blinks at him through a tangle of wet lashes—her chocolate-brown eyes never leaving his. He tries again in broken Grounder, mispronouncing most of the words and wishing he’d paid more attention. She cocks her head but doesn’t answer. He thinks she understands, though.

“God, your Grounder is terrible. Let’s just go. I don’t want to be out here when this storm breaks. I happen to like my skin on my bones.”

The little girl begins whimpering again as soon as Bellamy stands. Her lip quivers, and after years of dealing with Octavia, he knows she’s on the verge of a full-on tantrum. “It’s okay,” he tells her in what he hopes is a soothing voice. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe.”

“What if she has a family?” Miller asks. “Maybe they’re looking for her.”

Bellamy shoots him a look. “I thought you wanted to go home?”

Miller arches an eyebrow.

“We are not leaving her.”

Miller sighs. “Then just grab her. We don’t have time for this.”

Behind them, the sky lights up, and the thunder that follows rocks the ground. Miller’s right—there’s no time to search for a family. Besides, it doesn’t look like anyone’s taken care of her in a long time. Bellamy lifts her into his arms. She weighs almost nothing like she hasn’t eaten in days. How long has she been out here? Where is her family? How could they just abandon her like this?

He squashes the growing anger and wraps his jacket around her tiny, shivering body. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie. You’re safe now.” He repeats it over and over as they walk until, eventually, her breathing evens out and her body goes limp. Bellamy sighs with relief.

Miller side-eyes him. “You’re like a natural at that.”

“At what?”

“That.” He waves at Bellamy and the girl. “Like kid stuff.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I had Octavia to practice on.”

Miller snorts. “I can’t imagine Octavia ever being that small and helpless.”

Bellamy laughs, too. “Small, yes. Helpless, never.” He runs a hand over the girl’s head then rests it on her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breaths. She does remind him an awful lot of Octavia. Fierce and determined. And brave. Octavia had a strength Bellamy always admired even when they were kids. It was what was going to get her through everything that had happened. Everything he’s done to her. He forces down a sudden lump in his throat. Not the time to think about that.

Thunder booms suddenly, startling the girl. She screams then buries her face in his neck with a muffled sob. Her fingers twist into his hair. He whispers comforting words into her ear as they pick up the pace.

“We’re not going to make it,” Miller says, looking back at the mountains.

Bellamy glances over his shoulder. He can no longer tell where the sky ends and the clouds begin. It’s one giant, roiling mass, crackling with electricity and spitting lightning. Icy fingers of fear wrap around his chest, squeezing out the air. “We need to find cover.”

“The cave?”

Another deafening clap of thunder shakes the ground so hard he can feel it in his bones. The grip around his neck threatens to strangle him. Bellamy checks the storm again—it’s moving fast to the east cutting them off from the hills around Mt. Weather. He shakes his head. “We’ll never make it. The dropship is closer.”

They veer south in a desperate dash to outrun the outer edge of the storm. With every flash of lightning and roar of thunder, the girl squeezes him tighter, yanking his hair. The air is charged, prickling his skin and making every hair on his arms stand up. He pulls the collar of his jacket over the girl’s head, trying to cover as much of her as he can. Then they run. Faster than Bellamy’s ever run before.

“We’re going to cut it close,” Miller says through gasps.

Bellamy’s lungs burn, but he doesn’t slow. He dodges a boulder then hops a log, barely managing to keep his balance when he lands. Ahead, he sees the dropship towering over the trees. Miller hits the ramp as the first raindrops sizzle around them. Shit. Bellamy ducks under some low-hanging branches then dives into the dropship, rolling with the girl.

Miller pulls the lever before Bellamy’s all the way in, closing the door. He leans against the wall with a relieved sigh. “That was close.”

“No kidding.” Bellamy sits up and attempts to pry open the little fingers tangled in his hair, but the girl refuses to let go. He tries to reassure her with circles on her back like his mother used to do. It always worked with Octavia. At the least, her trembling subsides even if she continues to cling to him like velcro.

“What are we going to do with her?” Miller asks after a while.

Bellamy tucks her hair behind her ear. Her face is streaked with tears though she’s no longer crying. That has to be a good sign. “I don’t know. Maybe we can find a grounder family to take her.”

“That’s probably for the best. They’d know how to take care of her a hell of a lot better than us.”

Bellamy snorts. “Was that ever on the table?”

Miller rolls his eyes with a laugh. “You know what I meant.” He throws a spent shell casing at him, but it bounces off of the girl’s back, startling her. Bellamy glares. “Why’d you do that? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” Miller mumbles. He shoves off the wall. “I’m going to go look upstairs.”

Bellamy slides over to the wall, trying to get comfortable. He manages to get the girl to let go of his neck. She curls up in his lap, thumb in her mouth. His eyes drift shut—his breathing matching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Outside, the storm rocks the dropship, throwing gale-force winds and acid rain at the already battered ship. He wonders how much more it can take. “We’ll be safe for now,” he murmurs into the girl’s hair. I hope.

The girl snorts then presses her face into his chest with a sigh. Bellamy smiles, hugging her closer. Maybe some good came of their mission after all. One life saved is one life saved. It’s not enough to balance out the evil he’s done, but it’s a start. It has to be or… Or what? I can’t live with myself? Can’t keep living? He shakes the thought from his head. He’s not quite that pathetic yet.

And it’s too late to atone for your sins after you’re dead.

He lets the girl’s gentle snores lull him to sleep, and for once, he doesn’t dream of the demons chasing him.

<< Chapter One | Chapter Three >>


Heaven Can’t Wait – Chapter 1

Table of Contents | Chapter Two >>



Chapter One: Can’t Save Everyone

Thunder cracks in the distance as clouds gather over the mountains. Bellamy pointlessly watches the trees for trouble. The forest is eerily quiet without the familiar sounds of insects and birds. The animals are all gone. The grounders have fled to Arkadia or are trying their luck in Polis, mistakenly thinking their city will protect them. The planet is dying. And there’s nothing we can do about it.

Another rumble of thunder sets him on edge. They’ve been waiting months for the black rain to start. Every dark cloud, every rumble of thunder, every rain shower threatens to be their last. On the horizon, lightning snakes across the sky. Already the air tastes sour. The breeze that should be damp before the storm prickles his skin with static electricity. It won’t be long.

Miller holds up a test tube and shakes it, his expression grim.

“No good?”

He tosses the tube into the woods before wiping his hands on his pants. “Tainted.”

Bellamy sighs. “That’s every stream within five miles. There’s no clean drinking water left. Nothing will survive out here.”

“We can’t save everyone, Bellamy,” Miller murmurs. Lightning flashes, and the thunder that follows is closer. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We’re not going to find anything.”

They start walking at a steady pace, the storm trailing behind them. They spent the last two days going through every grounder village they could find looking for refugees. The grounders that didn’t try to kill them also didn’t want their help. They wouldn’t listen to reason no matter what.

Bellamy hates to think of what will happen to them. But he can’t force them. They pleaded for over an hour at the door of a widow with five children. He could tell she was already getting sick. They begged to take the children, but she refused. The thought coils in his stomach, making him sick.

Next to him, Miller snorts.

“What?” Bellamy asks.

“I just never thought we’d find ourselves back here. You know, locked up in that tin can. After everything.” He shakes his head. “But, hey, Alpha Station. Better than being stuck in Mecha.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Just be glad it wasn’t the Skybox that survived the crash.”

Miller visibly shivers, making Bellamy laugh again. A crack of a branch to their left has them both tensed. It’s getting late, and the storm clouds aren’t helping visibility. Bellamy scans the forest for signs of movement. Just when he thinks it was nothing, there’s a crunch of leaves. Bellamy signals Miller to go around the left while he flanks on the right.

They move silently—in sync after all of these months on the ground—careful not to alert whatever might be hiding. From the scuffling noises, it sounds big. Bigger than a rabbit or fox. Not that they’ve seen many of those around lately. But anything could possibly be food.

Bellamy’s getting closer. He hears a growl from his left and realizes the animal is hunting something else. Two for the price of one. He sets himself up to take out the predator once it’s captured its prey.

Through the brush, Bellamy sees sleek black fur rippling over smooth muscle. One of those panthers then. God, he hates them. They’re fast and savage, and their nails are like razors. Niylah swears Clarke took one down all on her own with only a knife. Clarke will neither deny nor confirm that Wanheda myth. Bellamy’s not sure if he believes it, but it’s Clarke so anything’s possible. He smiles at that thought then curses himself for losing the panther in the trees.

He hunches down, weaving between low branches, searching the surrounding area for a glimpse of black. He hears a whimper from ahead and presses up against a tree. He peers around it. The cat is off to the right—its yellow eyes glowing through some ferns. To his left, the prey.

Bellamy squints in the dim light, trying to make out what kind of animal it is. His eyes widen with a gasp. “No.” He glances back at the cat as it readies to pounce, and without thinking, he moves.

The cat races forward at the same time Bellamy does. He launches himself at the cat’s prey, grabbing it around the waist and rolling. It screams. Something slices into Bellamy’s shoulder, but he doesn’t let go. He curls around the tiny body in his arms as the cat screeches. He can feel its breath on his neck. Jesus.

Then there’s a pop pop pop and a howl.

Feet pound up behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” Miller shouts. “Are you insane?”

Bellamy falls onto his back with a groan as pain shoots through his shoulder. The small girl looks up at them with a quivering lip then starts to wail.


That’s the understatement of the century.

Chapter Two >>

The 100 fic: Fall to Pieces

The 100 | 1454 words | [PG]
Canon divergent. After a year on the ground, Bellamy and Clarke are finally ready to confront their feelings. As long as Bellamy doesn’t break his neck first. Written for April Camp NaNo.

By Clarke’s calculations, they’ve been on the ground for around 380 days. It’s the end of September. Or maybe it’s early October. It’s hard to tell. The chill of autumn has chased away the sweltering heat of July and August, but summer is making a last stand. The sun that filters through the treetops tickles her skin, leaving little goosebumps down her arms. She glances to her side—those might be from another reason, though.

Next to her, Bellamy’s hair flutters around his head in the warm breeze. He repeatedly shoves it out of his eyes with a huff, but it does no good. Watching him try makes her grin.

“You need a haircut.”

He snorts. “Thinking of making a career change to hair stylist, princess?” he asks without any of his usual derision. He shoots her a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and releases a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

Clarke looks away before he can see her blush. She’d never hear the end of it. If there was one thing Bellamy was good at it was teasing her. He knew how to push all of her buttons. Which, she has to admit, isn’t always a bad thing. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him still smiling. It looks good on him. She wishes he would do it more often. “Why are you in such a good mood?

“What do you mean?”

She doesn’t believe his innocent act for a second. And she’s not going to fall for his charm. Not much anyway. She narrows her eyes at him, hoping she looks more stern and less like he has her insides doing gymnastics. “You’re acting weird. What are you up to?”

“Are you always this suspicious?”

“When it comes to you—yes.”

They stare at each other a moment before they both crack a smile. Bellamy shrugs. “It’s a nice day. I don’t have to deal with the whining back at camp. What’s not to be happy about?”

He has a point. It does feel nice to get a break from the monotony of camp where everyone constantly needs her attention. Bellamy, though, seemed especially eager to get away when she mentioned she needed an escort to the river. Usually, he pawned babysitting off on one of his gunners—Harper or Monroe went with her a lot. This time, he jumped at the opportunity then looked embarrassed by his enthusiasm. It was kind of cute.

Bellamy hops onto the crumbling remains of a wall. She watches him balance along it like a tightrope walker, arms out, as he climbs higher.

“You’re going to fall,” Clarke says, blocking the sun with her hand as she watches him cross the wall ten feet in the air.

“I’m not going to fall. Will you relax, Clarke.”

She rolls her eyes. Why did he have to be such a pain? “One of us has to be responsible.”

He ducks under the branch of an overhanging tree and looks down at her. “You think I’m not responsible?”

She squints up at him again. She can’t really see his face with the sun blinding her, but she imagines his annoyed look. “Not with your own life. Not really.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sounds genuinely offended.

Clarke shrugs. “When it comes to your own safety, you don’t seem to care much.”

“I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.”

“I know, but you don’t have to risk your own life to do it.”

He cocks his head. “So who’s life should I risk? Monty’s? Jasper’s? Yours?”

“I know you know what I’m talking about so quit acting like a jerk and get down here.” She bites her lip when he wobbles a little, but he recovers effortlessly. She’s pretty sure he did it intentionally just to give her a heart attack.

“Now I’m a jerk?” At least the devilish grin is back on his face.

Her heart flips. She’s not sure if it’s from that look he gives her or the fact that he’s one wrong step away from breaking his neck. He eyes a tree a good five feet from the wall.

“Bellamy-” Clarke warns, but as usual, he doesn’t listen.

He jumps, snagging the branch easily. His smirk lasts about three seconds. Then the branch gives with a loud crack. Bellamy lands with a thud on his back, the air rushing out of him in a groan.

Clarke runs over, sliding to her knees next to him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes roll back as he fights for breath, but eventually, he gasps. Clarke lets out her own relieved breath then smacks his chest. “I told you to be careful.”

“No, you didn’t.” He pries a rock out from under him, tossing it into the woods. “You just said I would fall.”

“And you did.”

Bellamy gives her a crooked grin. “Still didn’t tell me to be careful.”

She smacks him again. Sometimes she thinks he argues just to annoy her. “You didn’t give me a chance. Besides, it’s implied, smartass. Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

Clarke helps him sit up, watching him carefully for signs of injury. He seems okay. “You know, there are easier ways to impress me.”

His face flushes scarlet. “Why do you think I’m trying to impress you?” he sputters, voice sounding a little strangled. She has to bite back a smile because his awkwardness is adorable.

Neither of them says anything for a long time. They’ve been dancing around their feelings for over a year. It’s exhausting. She’s about to tell him she’s tired of playing games, but he cuts her off.

“I wanted to spend time with you. Is that such a bad thing?” Bellamy says softly. He picks up a twig and nervously breaks it apart. “We’re both always so busy.”

Clarke sucks in a sharp breath. She didn’t expect him to come right out with it, but now that they’re actually talking about this, she’s a little terrified. She swallows hard but the lump is still stuck in her throat. “If you wanted to spend time with me you could have just asked. You didn’t have to fall out of a tree to get my attention.”

Bellamy ducks his head. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”


His cheeks are still rosy, but Clarke sees the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “For reference in the future, what do I have to do to impress you?”

Her heart does another backflip. “For starters, just tell me when you want to hang out instead of elaborate plots to get me alone.”

He blushes again—it’s charming how insecure he is right now. “What if I want to do more than hang out?”

His eyes widen. She’s not sure who’s more surprised by his confession. Before he can take it back, she leans closer. “Then quit being a baby and make a move.”

She can see the moment he realizes she’s serious. He cups her face slowly—giving her a chance to change her mind. It makes her love him even more. The second their lips brush, an explosion of desire chases the butterflies away. Clarke’s entire body vibrates. The heat between them burns her skin, but she can’t get enough of it. She tangles her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck causing Bellamy to growl. The sound makes her head spin. She’s lost and doesn’t care if she’s ever found. How does he even have this effect on her?

When they finally pull apart, Bellamy’s pupils are shot, giving him a dazed look. “Wow,” he murmurs, breathless. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Clarke’s heart threatens to beat right out of her chest. The way he’s looking at her right now might be the most beautiful thing on Earth. And it took way too long for her to find it. She pulls him closer—she’s tired of waiting. “I think I do.”

This kiss is sweeter. Tender. It’s a side of Bellamy she wouldn’t have believed existed a year ago. She’s glad he’s finally showing it.

“Am I impressing you yet?” he says against her lips.

Clarke laughs. “Bellamy, you’ve been impressing me since the day we met.”

He leans back, eyebrow cocked. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

She pretends to think. “I’m not sure. You might have to kiss me a few more times-” He doesn’t give her a chance to finish. Which is fine. Clarke can’t remember what she was talking about anyway. It may have taken 380 days, but it was worth every argument and smartass comment it took to get here. Well worth it.

The 100 fic: End of the Line


An alternate scene in episode 1.07. Clarke and Bellamy disagree on how to handle the captured Lincoln. Because there’s no coming back once you cross that line.
690 words | rating: PG-13

“There are things you do, and things you don’t do,” Clarke said, voice full of righteous indignation. “And this crosses the line.”

Bellamy stepped into her space. She stumbled back—uncertainty replacing the disapproval on her face. “And who decides where that line is? You?”

Her eyes darted to the grounder tied up behind him. “This is wrong, and you know it.”

Bellamy lowered his voice so only she could hear. “All I know is that I have to protect this camp. That’s what everyone wants, right?”

“This isn’t the way to do it.”

“Then tell me what is the right way. What am I supposed to do here?”

Her mouth opened then closed wordlessly. That shut her up. The problem was he knew she was right. It made him angry and resentful, but he was stuck. What was he supposed to do? Let Finn die?

“Torture isn’t the answer,” she finally whispered.

“Clarke.” Bellamy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time to argue or wait for him to get chatty.”

“There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t. Finn is going to die.”

She crossed her arms in an obvious challenge. “You were willing to let Jasper die. You helped them hang Murphy. You took the radio to save your own ass. You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself. Now suddenly you care if Finn lives or dies?”

What the hell? Was that really what she thought of him? She stared him down until he looked away, ashamed. Of course she thought that. Why wouldn’t she after all the things he did? But this was different. Things were different. Frustrated, Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face. “Clarke-”

She cut him off. “You don’t even like Finn.”

“But you do,” he said, eyes on his boots. He swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “And Raven cares,” he added, but he knew the damage was done.

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair. “Look, it doesn’t matter what I think about Finn. All that matters is he’s going to die if we don’t get some information. Is that what you want? Because it’s starting to sound that way. He did break your heart so why not let him die?” That was low. She looked away, biting her lip. “The lines sure get fuzzy when it’s someone you care about, huh?” he said softly.

When she looked up, her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “Please don’t do this, Bellamy.

“Then give me another option,” he pleaded. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do, Clarke, because I’m making this up as I go along. Finn’s going to die if I don’t do something. And we’re out of time.”

Behind him, Miller stopped pacing. “Yo, Bellamy, we going to do this or what?”

Clarke shot Miller a disgusted look. When she turned back, she looked drained. “This isn’t you.”

“Maybe not, but it’s who I need to be if we’re going to survive.” His fingers brushed her arm. “Someone has to make the hard decisions. Better me than you.”

Bellamy held his breath, hoping the conversation was over because he couldn’t handle her looking at him with that mixture of pity and disappointment. He sighed, dropping his hand. “You should go. Check on Finn.” He didn’t want her here. Didn’t want her seeing him like this. “Please, Clarke.”

She looked ready to argue, but the desperation in his voice must have changed her mind because she let out a tired breath. “This is a line you can’t uncross, Bellamy.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know.”

She gave him one last grim look before disappearing down the ladder. Bellamy closed his eyes. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to wake up in the morning with one more reason to hate himself. Why couldn’t she understand that?

“Let’s do this,” Miller said way too enthusiastically.

Bellamy picked up one of the straps laying on the ground. He rubbed his thumb over the buckle. “It’s just who I have to be,” he mumbled before turning towards the grounder, jaw clenched with determination.

Six Sentences on Sunday

sixsentences~~ Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project —published, in progress, for your cat — whatever. ~~

From a fanfic:

Bellamy crossed his arms and stared her down. It was immature, and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. His mother would throw a fit if she saw him acting this way. He let his arms drop to his sides, shame flooding him. “I can’t sit around anymore when I know she’s out there alone. She needs me.”

Six Sentences on Sunday

sixsentences~~ Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project —published, in progress, for your cat — whatever. ~~

From a fanfic:

“I should take a look at that.”

She didn’t even give him time to protest before she pulled up his shirt. “Usually girls have to buy me dinner before I let them tear my clothes off.”

Clarke snorted. “In your dreams.”

You have no idea.

Six Sentences on Sunday

sixsentences~~ Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project —published, in progress, for your cat — whatever. ~~

From a fanfic:

Instead, he zipped her jacket to her chin. He wished he had a hat to give her. She just stared up at him, eyes slightly unfocused. Crap. He brushed her hair away and slid his thumb over the growing bump on her temple. So not good.

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