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Camp NaNo April – Day 18 recap

Camp-2017-Participant-Twitter-Header

Last night was a productive night. Another finished story! And this one is sweet and fluffy. Totally not my style. Okay, there’s a dose of angst in there somewhere. I just can’t write straight fluff.

Day 18: trust

When the Ark never makes it to the ground, the 100 are left to fend for themselves over the long winter. They managed to make it through. Even managed a peace treaty with the local grounders. Things are almost looking up, but Bellamy and Clarke know they can’t just sit around on their laurels. They have to plan for next winter. Now.

The only problem is they disagree on how best to use their supplies and manpower. Bellamy knows the grounders won’t stay quiet forever–they need to extend the wall. Clarke already lost four to the cold and hunger, she won’t lose more–they need to plant as much food as possible. There aren’t enough people to go around.

Their tentative friendship is going up in flames with the pressure of survival crushing them. But Bellamy has an idea that might crack open a release valve. Clarke only agrees to go with him because he promises her medical supplies–sealed and saved for over a hundred years. It’s a long shot, but she’ll take whatever she can get at this point.

The walk through the woods is calming. And as irritated as she is with Bellamy, she’s starting to remember why they became friends. He can be charming and sweet when he wants to be. She wishes it were more often.

Bellamy leads her to a secret tunnel he found while hunting. Clarke recognizes it as an old subway system. She can’t remember ever seeing Bellamy so excited–his smile alone could push away the darkness. He drags her through the tunnels until they step into a second station.

Clarke realizes she’s been had. There are no medical supplies. She’s about to ask what game he’s playing when he shines a light on the walls. Every inch is covered in graffiti. Over a hundred years of artists leaving their marks on the world. She’s so awestruck she forgets about his lying. And when he presents her with a set of paints and a clear space of wall, she forgets about everything else.

When it’s too dark to paint, Clarke has to admit something’s shifted between her and Bellamy. It’s not just the fact that he brought her here because he knew she liked to draw. It’s not that he spent weeks making paint for her. It’s not even about the way he’s looking at her like she’s a precious piece of artwork.

Mostly, it’s because when she looks at him, there’s a warmth that grows in her chest until it burns across her skin everywhere he touches. And god, she doesn’t want him to ever stop touching her.

The End.

Bonus:

Clarke is suddenly on high alert. Every snap of a branch or crunch of leaves makes her heart race.

Bellamy squeezes her shoulde. “Clarke, relax. I’ve hunted here dozens of times. We’re safe.”

She gives him a bewildered look. He laughs then pushes the stray strand of hair behind her ear, making her tremble. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” She blinks at him, confused by the change of subject.

He licks his lips slowly as he pulls his hand away from her face. “Do you trust me?”

Does she trust him? After everything they’ve been through–even as annoying as he is–she knows in her heart that he’d never let anything happen to her. She nods. “I do trust you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Okay. Then lets go.” He walks backwards a few steps, taunting her. When she rolls her eyes and follows, he turns around with a chuckle.

Other recaps:
Day 1 – survive (about torture)
Day 2 – redo (about changing the past)
Day 3 – sunshine (about facing your demons)
Day 4 – fear (about facing your fears)
Day 5 – inside (about hoarding)
Day 6 – share (about friendship) FINISHED!
Day 7 – annoy (about flirting)
Day 8 – guard (about princesses)
Day 9 – Heaven (about a little girl)
Day 10 – blood (about washing away sins)
Day 11 – promise (about betrayal)
Day 12 – discover (about neighbors)
Day 13 – together (about fake dates)
Day 14 – try (about mud fights)
Day 15 – experiment (about interventions)
Day 16 – illusive (about hallucinations)
Day 17 – phone (about a mystery)

FINISHED STORIES!!!
Handle with Care – share (day 6)

The 100 fanfic: Handle with Care

handlewithcare[Bellamy/Clarke]
Set not long after s1e10 (I Am Become Death). Clarke is left to clean up the dropship on her own, but Bellamy thinks there’s something more important that she should be doing.

886 words | rating: PG


Bellamy finds Clarke inside the dropship. She kneels next to the last two sick kids and helps them sip some water. Less than twelve hours ago that was him lying on the floor near death. A tremor works through him at the memory. He’d never been so scared in his life.

When the kids have had their fill, she makes them comfortable, wiping blood from their faces and whispering comforting words. Then she picks up a bucket and starts scrubbing at the floor. He looks down at the dark stain by his feet. The floor is covered in them, and the smell of death hangs heavy in the air.

He notices for the first time that no one has stayed to help her clean up. Anger burns in the pit of his stomach. It’s just wrong on so many levels. When Clarke sits back on her heels with a tired sigh and rubs at a spot on her shoulder, Bellamy’s had enough.

He clears his throat, taking a few steps inside. “Hey, Clarke, can I talk to you a minute. Outside.”

She glances over her shoulder then back at her patients.

“I’ll get someone to watch them. I need your help with something.”

She nods and gets slowly to her feat, dropping the rag into a bucket of filthy water. Bellamy grabs the first three kids he sees and tells them to go clean up the dropship or he’ll have them digging the next latrine. They grumble as they pass Clarke.

“Volunteers,” he tells her with a crooked grin.

“I’m sure.” She crosses her arms over her chest, watching him warily. “What do you need?”

He flinches at her tone. It didn’t used to bother him as much when she got this standoffish. He jerks his head to the side and starts walking, knowing she’ll follow out of curiosity, if nothing else. He leads her over to his tent and holds the flap back. She stops, a brow arched. “What is this about?”

“I swear it’s nothing bad.”

“You know what they’re going to think if I go in there?”

Bellamy laughs. “Since when do you care what other people think?”

Her eyes narrow, but she seems to take his words as a personal challenge, turning and marching inside. She looks around, eyes catching on the pile of blankets in the middle of the tent. Bellamy pulls a crate over and pushes her down onto it.

“What-”

Then he places a plate of food in front of her. “You need to eat something before you fall over.”

She stares at the plate. “I didn’t ask for your food.”

“I know you didn’t ask. I know you never would. That’s why I’m offering. Actually, I’m insisting.” He squats down and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Clarke, you do so much for us, and we repay you with whining and complaining and making you clean up that mess on your own. You deserve better than that.”

She shakes her head, pushing the plate away.

Bellamy holds it on her lap. “It’s time you let someone take care of you for a change.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “Bellamy, I don’t know what to say,” she whispers, voice shaky.

He hadn’t meant to say all of that, but when she looks at him, tears trailing down her cheeks and lip quivering, he doesn’t regret it. He meant every word. And she needed to hear it.

He swallows hard, forcing down the sudden lump caught in his throat. “You don’t say anything. You just eat.” When she still doesn’t move, he taps her knee. “Come on, don’t make me feed it to you.”

That gets a laugh. “That won’t be necessary.”

Bellamy’s relieved when she finally starts eating. He pulls over another crate and swipes a piece of food from her plate. “I said I’d share, not give it to you.”

She laughs again then ducks her head. “Thank you.”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes when she looks up. He’s happy to see it’s no longer tears making her eyes shine. He shrugs. “You’d do the same for me.”

Her hand lands softly on his arm, sending a spark of electricity coursing through his entire body. “You scared me, you know. When you got sick.”

He forces himself to meet her gaze. “You scared me, too.” The air in the tent has gotten too hot and too charged with static for his comfort. Especially considering that it’s Clarke sitting across from him. He looks away. “I mean, I can’t run this place without you.”

Clarke tears apart a piece of meat. “Is that the only reason?”

Bellamy licks his lips, all sorts of thoughts and emotions swirling in his head. He’s not sure what his reasons are, so he decides to go with what he knows best—deflection. With a crooked grin, he takes the chunk of meat right out of her hand and pops it into his mouth. “Well, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

Clarke shakes her head and laughs, the tension easing. They finish the plate in amicable silence. And when Clarke looks up at him with a thankful smile, setting butterflies loose in his stomach, Bellamy knows for sure there are other reasons. But that’s something to share another day.

Camp NaNo April – Day 9 recap

Camp-2017-Participant-Profile-PhotoI have something important to say…

Today is 100 days of writing without missing a day. This is my second longest streak to date. The only longer one was years ago, and I believe I made it around 160 days before my gall bladder mutinied, and I had to have emergency surgery.

Also, I wrote over 16k words today. And I mean they are all creative words. That doesn’t count the couple thousand brainstorming words I put in. I am on a roll today.

I also haven’t slept in 34 hours, so that kind of dampens things.

Maybe it’s time to just get to the recap, then.

Day 9: Heaven

Thunder cracks in the distance as clouds gather over the mountains. The forest is eerily quiet without the familiar sounds of insects and birds. The planet is dying and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.

Bellamy watches the silent trees for trouble, but there’s nothing. The animals are all gone. The grounders have fled to Arkadia or are trying their luck in Polis. Another rumble of thunder sets him on edge. They’ve been waiting months for the black rain to start. Every dark cloud, ever rumble of thunder, every shower of rain threatens to be their last.

Bellamy does not want to be caught out here. He watches the horizon. Lightning snakes across the sky. Already the air is electified. It won’t be long. Miller holds up a test tube and shakes it. He looks up at Bellamy with a grim expression.

“No good?”

Miller shakes his head then 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 mumbles. 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. Most had moved on to Greenbriar or headed to Polis, mistakingly thinking their city would protect them. They wouldn’t listen to reason no matter what.

Bellamy hated to think of what will happen to them. But he couldn’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 into 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. Just when he thinks it was nothing there’s a crunch of leaves. Bellamy uses his hands to signal 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.

They move slowly, careful not to alert whatever might be there. 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 it’s prey.

Through the brush, Bellamy sees sleek black fur rippling over smooth muscle. One of those pumas 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, but then curses himself for losing the puma 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. The cat is off to the right—its yellow eyes glowing through some ferns. To his left, the prey. Bellamy gasps. 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 small body in his arms as the cat screeches. He can feel it’s breath on his neck. Jesus.

Then there’s a pop pop pop and a howl. Feet pound up behind him, but Bellamy can’t move.

“What the hell are you doing?” Miller shouts. “Are you insane.” Miller grabs his shoulder, pulling him over. Bellamy falls onto his back , losing his grip on the small girl. She looks up at them with a quivering lip then starts to wail. “Shit.”

To be continued…

SURPRISE! Instead of a recap and a bonus quote, you get the entire first chapter of this fic. I don’t normally publish unfinished fanfic, but in all honesty, I’m too tired to write a proper recap, and this story is already 17.5k words long after writing for two day.

You know what, you talked me into it.

Bonus!:

Their laughter wakes the girl. She sits up, rubbing her eyes. Her face lights up when she sees Bellamy, but as soon as she notices Clarke, her eyes narrow. Bellamy tries not to laugh.

Clarke frowns. “Why doesn’t she like me?”

The girl’s eyes narrow even more like she’s trying to bore a hole right through Clarke. Bellamy can barely contain his amusement which gets a glare from Clarke. “I’m sorry,” he says, desperately trying not to laugh at her. “I don’t know why she doesn’t like you. I mean, what’s not to like?”

The look on her face challenges him to finish that thought. His heart flips, but there’s no way he’s having that conversation here or any time in the near future. He pushes all of that confusion and frustration into a little box and stuffs it far in the back of his mind. Instead, he lifts a hand, ticking off each thing on a finger. “You’re bossy. A know-it-all. Way too-”

She grabs his hand, squeezing his fingers hard. Bellamy just laughs.

Clarke rolls her eyes, a grin pulling at her lips. “You suck sometimes.”

Other recaps:
Day 1 – survive (a tale that mentions torture)
Day 2 – redo (a tale about regret)
Day 3 – sunshine (a tale about the darkness within)
Day 4 – fear (a tale of letting go)
Day 5 – inside (a tale of a rainy day)
Day 6 – share (a tale of friendship)
Day 7 – annoy (a tale of flirting)
Day 8 – guard (a tale of late night shenanigans)

Six Sentences on Sunday

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

From the fanfic I’m editing right now:

He squats down and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Clarke, you do so much for us, and we repay you with whining and complaining and making you clean up the mess on your own. You deserve better than that.”

She shakes her head, pushing the plate away.

Bellamy holds it on her lap. “It’s time you let someone take of you for a change.”

Camp NaNo April – Day 6 recap

Camp-2017-Participant-Profile-PhotoWell, it’s day six, and I finally finished one of these stories. Actually, I finished two. Oh, yeah! They just need some spit and polish then I’ll get them posted. Soon, I promise. Really… I do.

Despite that, I’ll still give you a little recap. If you’re wondering why, take a look here and here for more information.

Day 6: share

Finally. Finally, Bellamy and Clarke get a happy ending. It took six days, but finally something good happened to them. Well, good compared to nearly dying of Ebola. Then again anything would be better than that.

In today’s story–set some time in season one between episodes 10 and 11–Bellamy gets all sappy with Clarke and makes her cry. Which is not his intention at all. He just wanted to share his dinner with her before she keeled over from malnutrition.

So what if he did it in his tent. Alone. And touched her knee. And pushed that stray strand behind her ear. It meant nothing. Nothing! That’s his story, and he’s sticking to it.

Whatever. As long as it gets Clarke to smile. That’s what’s important.

The End.

Wow, look! I wrote something fluffy. Or mostly fluffy. It’s fluff-like. Whatever you want to call it, no one was tortured, emotionally crippled, or injured in any way. YAY!

Bonus:

“I didn’t ask for your food.” Her voice quivers, and he thinks she might cry. So not his intention.

“I know you didn’t ask. I know you never would. That’s why I’m offering. Actually, I’m insisting.”

He squats in front of her, fingers tapping her knee. “You do so much for us, Clarke, and we repay you with whining and complaining and making you clean up the mess on your own. You deserve better than that.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. Her hands tremble when she finally picks up the plate.

“It’s time you let someone take of you for a change.”

Aww… Bellamy does care.

For more recaps, check out these posts:
Day 1: survive (warning for mentions of mentions of torture… but no actual torture)
Day 2: redo (warning for completely absurd time travel)
Day 3: sunshine (warning for unintended groping)
Day 4: fear (warning for drunken rambling)
Day 5: inside (warning for half-naked Bellamy)

The 100 (tv) fanfic: Always & Forever

always[Bellamy & Octavia]
Just a little snapshot of a cold night on the Ark for young Bellamy and Octavia.
673 words | rating: G


Bellamy was half asleep when a small hand rocked his shoulder.

“Bell?” Octavia said softly.

“Hmm?” He didn’t bother to open his eyes.

She didn’t say anything.

He counted to ten in his head. He had a test in the morning in physics, and he needed a good grade or he’d be stuck cleaning toilets the rest of his life. “What do you want, Octavia?” he mumbled.

“I’m cold.”

“So?”

She made an exaggerated shiver. He popped one eye open to look at his ten-year-old sister. She wore only her nightgown which was just one of his extra shirts that was way too big on her. Captain Wigglebottom, her stuffed bunny, was tucked tight to her chest. She shifted from foot to foot as if to prove how cold the ground was.

“Bellamy-”

He propped himself up on his arm. “What?”

“It’s cold in here.”

“It is. You should put on some warmer clothes.”

She crossed her arms, pouting. “I only have one outfit and Mom is washing it.”

His face flushed. “Oh.” He glanced over to the empty bed Octavia usually shared with their mom. She’d gotten into the habit of disappearing at night. Bellamy didn’t ask a lot of questions because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers.

Octavia bit her lip, waiting. Part of him wanted to tell her to get lost. She had her own blanket, and he needed to get some sleep. But she looked at him with big, watery eyes and a quivering lip. Whenever he got frustrated with her, he tried to remember that she had no one else. Her entire existence was this room. Him and their mom—that’s all she knew. As socially awkward as Bellamy was thanks to his circumstances, at least he could say he had friends. He’d even had a girlfriend or two. Octavia had nobody. And never would. He was her only friend.

He sighed then scooted over, lifting the blanket. She dove in next to him and curled up to his warm body. He yelped when her ice-cold feet touched his legs as she squirmed around, looking for a comfortable position. Sliding his arm under her neck, Bellamy pulled her close to keep her still as much as to warm her. Soon her breathing evened out, and he could tell she was falling asleep.

Bellamy laid back and stared up at the ceiling of his bunk—the little seven by three foot space he could call his own. The bed wasn’t made for two, and even with Octavia’s tiny frame, it was a tight fit. But he didn’t complain.

For one, he was a lot warmer with her in the bed with him. And two, he had to admit he kind of liked having her close. They shared a bed when they were little until around the time he turned twelve, and well, his body started changing. He demanded privacy. At six, she didn’t understand why he kicked her from the bed. Now he regretted it because he always slept better with her near. That way he knew she was safe.

He covered his eyes with his free arm and tried to fall back asleep.

“Bellamy?” Octavia mumbled into his chest.

“What?”

“You’re the best.”

He smiled at the ceiling. “No, you’re the best. Just next time, don’t leave your feet outside of your blanket until they go numb before coming over here. You’re not fooling anyone.” He jabbed a finger into her ribs. She giggled and tried to touch his leg again.

“Okay, time to go to sleep,” he said with a yawn. “Or you’re going back to your own bed.”

“Would you do that?” Her voice sounded tiny.

Bellamy stared at her for a long time. He couldn’t believe she thought he was serious? Octavia looked back at him, eyes wide, her lip caught between her teeth. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her softly on the forehead. “No. I’ll always let you stay, cold feet and all. Always, O.”

And he meant it.

The 100 (TV) fic: Every Time We Say Goodbye

everytime

Bellamy/Clarke

Saying good-bye gets harder and harder. Bellamy hopes this one isn’t forever. Episode tag for S02e16.

586 words | rating: PG


Every time we say goodbye, it gets harder and harder to let you go.

I want to tell her that. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but my pride stops me every time. Or fear. Fear of being rejected. Fear of being accepted. Fear of losing a part of me. I prefer the pride theory—it doesn’t sound as pathetic.

This goodbye just might kill me, though. My heart races when I realize she’s serious about leaving. Is she insane? Maybe there’s a tentative peace with the Grounders, but there are other dangers out there. And who knows how long the Grounders will honor the truce. Or if they all will. A lot of them dislike Clarke with a passion. She tends to have that effect on people. You either hate her or love her.

I know. Because I really hate the way her mouth keeps repeating, “I’m so sorry,” over and over. And I hate how defeated she looks. How defeated she makes me feel when she looks at me with those haunted eyes. I hate her for making me hurt this damn much.

“Clarke-”

She cuts me off, as she did the other four times I tried to talk some sense into her. “I just can’t, Bellamy. You have to understand.”

I’m trying. I really am, but panic is setting in and overriding whatever part of my brain is left for empathy. It’s selfish of me to want her to stay just for me, but I’m damn near close to begging her. The thought of her out in the forest alone scares me a lot more than losing my pride, but I bite my tongue and hold my breath.

My heart pounds in my head. I wonder how it got up there when it’s supposed to be in my chest. There’s probably no room left because I still haven’t let out that breath. She looks sadly over her shoulder at the camp. We worked so hard to get this started, I want to tell her. You can’t go now. Not yet. Not without me.

I’m ready to offer to go with her, but she catches me off guard when she leans up and kisses me softly on the cheek. It’s not my pride that keeps my mouth shut this time, but unbridled fear. Because I don’t know what that kiss means. I do know it’s not enough. The only thing keeping me from throwing her over my shoulder and dragging her back to camp is the fact that she’s carrying a knife and could carve my still-beating heart from my chest if she wanted.

That, and my unyielding respect for her. She walks away from me as I’m forced to swallow another breath, to keep pushing air in and out when it feels like the world is crushing me. She’s really doing it. And I’m letting her. And I think it might kill me, but what choice do I have?

If I told her the truth—that I needed her, that I didn’t think I could get through a day without her—would she change her mind? I almost died for her. I don’t ask, though, because it would hurt too much if she left anyway.

Maybe the next goodbye will be easier. If there is one. Because as I watch her disappear into the treeline, I vow there will never be a “next time” because I won’t let her go alone. Next time she won’t get rid of me as easily.

The 100 (TV) fic: At the Center of the Night

sleep Bellamy/Clarke friendship

Sleepless nights send Bellamy and Clarke on a crash course to finally fixing their friendship. Post season 3.

2043 words | rating: R


I’m not even sure why I’m here. I was on my way back to my quarters, but took a wrong turn. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do. The hall is dark, the power low to reflect the late hour, and it’s quiet. Everyone went to bed hours ago. I think about turning around. I think about going through with it. I think about running for my life because I’m sure this might be the biggest fucking mistake of my life.

All of this runs through my head in the matter of seconds. While my brain is trying to sort it out, my feet get a mind of their own. Next thing I know, I’m standing in front of Clarke’s quarters.

This is okay. Isn’t it? We’re friends. After everything we’ve been through, it’s perfectly normal for one friend to call on another. I ignore the fact that it’s three in the morning. She said we needed each other. That had to mean something, right? And right now I need her. I need to talk to her. She always gets me like no one else can, not even Octavia. I need to talk to her. I need to see her face. To assure myself that she’s still here. That she isn’t some cruel prank my brain is playing on me. That she’s real, and she stayed this time.

She needed me.

And now I need her.

I hover in front of her door, rooted by indecision. On one hand, Lexa just died. It’s not like I’m asking her to marry me—I just want to talk. To spend time with her. We’re friends. On the other hand, the world is probably going to end in another month. There aren’t going to be many more somedays. I pull my hand back to knock, but then I hear footsteps.

Read more…

The 100 (TV) fic: Meanwhile, Life Goes On

meanwhileWith two new graves dug, Bellamy finally realizes he’s going to need help keeping everyone alive, but first he has to get everyone inside the walls.

1108 words | rating: PG


Bellamy finds Clarke sitting against a tree, staring at the freshly turned earth. The sun’s gone down, and it’s getting cold. Behind him, the kids are locking the camp down for the night. Threat of another Grounder attack blankets the camp with a layer of tension that weighs down everyone’s spirits. No one wants to be caught outside the hastily built wall, especially at night. Except one person.

Clarke hugs her legstight to her chest, face buried in her knees. Her shoulders rise and fall with each muffled sob. He has no idea what to say to her, butt if there’s onething he’s learned in the few days on the ground, though, it’s that you have to approach Clarke Griffin head-on.

Bellamy clears his throat. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

Clarke says nothing, but she tenses at the sound of his voice.

“Look, it’s getting dark. You need to come back inside the wall where it’s safe.” His eyes dart to the grave in front of her—one of two new ones dug yesterday.

“What do you care?” she murmurs into her knees.

Why does he care? Clarke has got to be the most frustrating person Bellamy’s ever met. She’s bossy, brash, and overbearing. It doesn’t matter what he does, she’s arguing the opposite side, making him second guess every decision, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. But then there are moments she takes him completely by surprise.

Two days go, he watched her plunge a knife into someone’s neck. She didn’t do it all cold and emotionless. No, not Clarke Griffin. She hummed, showing the compassion of a lover as she killed a boy to save him from a drawn-out, painful death.

Bellamy had threatened to kill Jasper in a moment of arrogant superiority. He really thought he could do it if it settled everyone down and put the kid out of his misery. It wasn’t murder if the kid was going to die anyway, right? But then Atom. He sat there watching his friend die, and he couldn’t do it. But Clarke could. In that moment, he’d seen someone entirely different from the pretentious, know-it-all princess he assumed her to be.

She lets out a sob then sucks it back in. Bellamy runs a hand over his face then squats down in front of her. “Hey,” he says, tapping her knee. “Clarke.” She refuses to look at him. He sighs, letting his hands dangle between his knees. “I know this is hard for you, but you need to come inside. It’s not safe out here.”

“Just leave me alone.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Not gonna happen, princess. I can’t leave you out here alone.”

“Why not?”

“For one, you’re not armed. And two, you’re not exactly in the best state of mind for making rational decisions.”

She snorts. “Because you’re such a great judge on rational decision making.”

He smiles—surprised that Clarke even has a sense of humor—then sinks down next to her. He rests his head against the tree, eyes fluttering closed. The air tingles his skin in an unfamiliar way. It feels good. It feels natural, unlike the recycled air on the Ark. A fight breaks out inside the wall, but he’s too tired to care at the moment.

“Are you really going to sit out here all night?”

Bellamy glances down at her. “If you’re staying out here then I’m staying out here.”

She frowns. “Why?”

He’s tired of dancing around the subject. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious, Clarke. These kids need you.”

She looks away. “Right, the kids need me.” She sniffles again.

“Clarke-”

“God, Bellamy, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Anger boils up. Why does she have to be so ungrateful all of the time? But then she starts crying again. Big, stupid tears spilling down her cheeks, soaking the knees of her pants. Something wrenches in his chest then drops to the pit of his stomach. He thinks it might be his heart.

He squeezes her arm gently. “Because you just lost your best friend, and you shouldn’t be alone. Because you’re the closest thing to a doctor we have. Because-” He sucks up his pride and catches her eyes. “Because I can’t run this place on my own. I need your help.” The other night made him realize that, because there are things he’s not prepared to do—can’t do. But Clarke never hesitates.

As if to highlight his point, the yelling from inside the camp gets louder. There’s a crash and a scream. Bellamy rubs at his tired eyes, letting his head fall back.

“What happened to ‘whatever the hell we want?’” She sniffles then wipes her nose on the sleeve of her jacket.

He groans. He knew that would come back to bite him in the ass. “Things are different now. The Grounders-”

“I’ll go inside,” Clarke interrupts, “if you admit you were wrong.”

He frowns at her, trying to hide his relief. “Wrong about what? No one suspected there were people on the ground.”

Clarke’s eyes narrow, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “That’s not it.”

Bellamy stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Wrong about how useless princesses are?”

“Close, but no.”

He bites back a smile at her eye-roll then reaches a hand down to her. She stares at it for a few seconds before gripping it tightly. He easily lifts her to her feet but doesn’t let go. Her fingers are cold but soft—so different from his own covered in cuts and callouses. His thumb rubs over her knuckles as he steps closer.

“Fine. You were right,” Bellamy says softly. “We need rules or someone’s going to get hurt.” They both look at the mounds of dirt marked by simple wooden crosses. He sighs, letting her hand slip from his. “Maybe if we work together we won’t be digging graves every other day.”

Clarke sniffles then wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands. When her entire body trembles, Bellamy puts a gently hand on her shoulder, turning her towards camp. She goes without protest, his hand sliding down her arm as they walk. He squeezes her hand once when they get to the gate. She gives him a weak smile then walks in ahead of him.

Bellamy takes one last look into the dark forest then glances at Miller standing guard. “Anyone else missing?”

“You’re the last.”

“Good. Lock ‘er up,” he says, twirling his finger in the air as he follows Clarke. At least they’re all safe for one more night.

The 100 fic: Worn Around the Edges

worn

Bellamy tries to be the friend that Clarke needs while she deals with what happened in The City of Light even if it tears apart his heart.

3013 words | rating: PG


“So,” Bellamy says, leaning on the wall next to Clarke. It’s late; everyone not on watch is asleep. Of course Clarke is up. He’s not sure she sleeps anymore. Day or night, whenever he’s on patrol, she’s wandering around.

“So.” She pushes her hands into the pockets of her jacket. He hadn’t noticed her trading in her Grounder leathers for standard Ark attire. Hadn’t realized how much he missed the familiar look until now.

He mimics her pose—hands in his jacket pockets. She lets out a soft sigh; he’s not sure if it’s just relieving stress or from agitation. He sighs in return. She leans her head back against the cool metal; he leans his head back. Finally she looks up at him, eyes narrowed.

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