Work Text:
“Where is it?” Clarke demands, running behind Bellamy and grasping his shoulder.
“Hey, Princess. Taking a walk in the woods?” Bellamy questions mockingly, putting his hands in his pockets, trying to cover up his surprise.
“They’re getting ready to kill 300 people up there! To save oxygen.” The look on her face is one of immense disappointment and Bellamy wants to look away but he can’t. Then she continues, and his already destroyed conscience becomes irreparable. “And I can guarantee you that it won’t be council members. It will be working people - your people.” She uses his earlier words and he knew they were going to come back and bite him in the ass. Then her little boyfriend joined in, “Bellamy,” he resists the urge to roll his eyes, “where’s the radio?” He pushes him backwards and the urge to roll his eyes became an urge to punch dear Finley in the face.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bellamy counters, scowling at Finn as he pushes him back.
“Bellamy Blake?” A random girl cuts in — he’s seen her before somewhere — oh shit. The girl from the pod thingy. “They’re looking everywhere for you—“
“Shut up.” Bellamy tells her firmly, hoping to God that she listens. But no, the Princess has other ideas.
“Looking for him why?” She asks, eyes flicking between him and the new girl.
“He shot Chancellor Jaha.” Little Miss Talk-Too-Much kindly informs her. Everyone’s eyes fall on Bellamy disbelievingly and he remembers something about Clarke being best friends with his son - Oh, God no. He hopes they won’t put 2 and 2 together, but no, Clarke’s too smart for that.
“That’s why you took the wristbands.” She states, “You need everyone to think that we’re dead.”
“Yeah.” Finn pipes up, “Whatever the hell we want? You just care about saving your own skin.” Bellamy turns to walk away, but little miss talkie follows him. “Hey, Shooter.” She shouts down his ear. “Where’s my radio?” She’s in his personal space.
“Get out of my way.” He pushes her away from him roughly.
“Where. Is. It?” She hisses. He shakes his head and turns to face her.
“I should’ve killed you when I got the chance.”
“Really?” She challenges. “Well, I’m right here.” She faces up to him. He doesn’t know what happens but suddenly she’s against a tree and there’s a knife being held in his face.
“Where’s my radio?” Her voice is quieter, but there’s no less resentment in it. He lets her go roughly and turns away.
“Jaha deserved to die.” He finds himself saying. “You all know that.”
“Yeah, he’s not my favourite person either.” The girl counters. “But he isn’t dead.” That catches Bellamy’s attention. He turns to see the three of them by the tree, the dark-haired girl still staring at him defiantly.
“What?” His voice is barely louder than a breath.
“You’re a lousy shot.” She snarls, which is a lie. He’s a rather good shot, actually. He doesn’t have time to retort before Clarke is striding over to him and reaching for his shoulder. Her face is full of hope and her eyes are wide, making her look ten times more innocent than she is.
Maybe that’s what she looked like on the ark, he thinks, before the skybox. Maybe that’s how she was when I first saw her.
“Bellamy, don’t you see what this means? You’re not a murderer. You always did what you had to, to protect your sister.” She knows exactly what to say; she knows what he needs to hear, and yet it’s still not enough. “That’s who you are. And you can do it again. By protecting three hundred of your people. Where’s the radio?” Her blue eyes are sincere and she’s desperate — he has nobody up there - but she does. She has a mother and friends, she has family up there. People she’d like to see alive and healthy.
He’s taken that from her. He’s taken that from all of them, all of the 100.
“It’s too late.” He tells her with no remorse in his voice but every bit of remorse in his heart. It’s true — if he wanted to do anything now, he wouldn’t be able to, because the radio is gone. She looks at him disbelievingly as she maintains eye contact and he wants to shove her away like he did with the other girl, he wants to tell her to shut up and leave him the hell alone, but he doesn’t.
He wants to tell her that she’s setting her standards of him far too high, because he’s really not that big of a person. He keeps his mouth shut.
He wants to tell her that he is a murderer, he mightn’t have killed the chancellor but he did kill his mother. He doesn’t.
He did kill an innocent woman and almost take his baby sister along with her. He remains quiet.
He wants to redeem himself in her eyes, even though he’s nowhere near tainted enough, not yet. He says nothing.
He knows there’s nothing he can do about the radio. There’s nothing anybody can do. It’s gone. It’s irretrievable.
He sends a troop of guys down to the river to help search anyway.