Work Text:
It was raining.Clarke almost laughed at the symbolism to her edged emotions. Despite the fact her feet had been on stable ground for almost a full month, she felt like her knees were buckling and her feet were curving as if she was sinking in water. It can’t be over, she thought as she stared hopelessly. She started to whimper and pull at her shirt trying to distract herself from the deafening silence. It somehow echoed. Hopelessness was all she felt.
Clarke stood motionless for a full hour, until finally she picked herself up and kept walking like always. Breaking into a full sprint, she breathed heavily and moved swiftly – there was no time to stop and think and sob for the third time that night. She had to do this; in fact, she had to do everything.
It took her five minutes to reach the entrance that Octavia and Indra had gone through, and took her ten minutes to get the guts to walk in without breaking down again. Clarke’s shoulders felt heavy and immoveable. It seemed impossible to hold her gun but she did it. She always managed to push herself to do what she needed to do, and it was killing her. As she walked through the underground passage, the water dripped down the wall, and the floor’s puddles soaked through her shoes. The only moment she stopped pushing forward was when she heard a pair of feet on the rocks that weren’t hers. Rushing into the open with her gun in hand, she boldly exposed herself to find none other than Octavia Blake.
“You didn’t leave,” Clarke breathed, lowering her gun and feeling herself fill with relief.
“I know where my loyalties lie,” Octavia spat, turning from Clarke in disgust. Clarke tried not to show the pain that was slamming her in every possible place, like she always did.
“Octavia, I’m doing what I can,” she pleaded, keeping her voice steady. Be strong, be strong for yourself.
“Yeah, well it’s not enough.”
All Clarke could hear was her inner voice chanting that she wasn’t enough, that no matter how hard she tried she wouldn’t be enough. Pointing at the door with her gun, she slipped her finger to the trigger.
“What are you doing?” Octavia quarreled.
“I need to get in,” Clarke retorted, wavering her voice as her lip trembled at the thought of being stuck. Always stuck, never an easy way out, always hurting someone, she reflected, closing her eyes and counting to ten. When she opened her eyes she sighed. Lowering the gun once more, she was met with beautiful brown eyes of the Blake boy. Instantly, she fell and cried. He swooped down to hug her as Monty, Jasper and Octavia watched. He cradled her and she cried again. Bellamy shushed her as she sobbed violently, losing breath with red splotches now dotting her face.
“C’mon Princess, it’s okay. It’s gonna’ be okay.”
After a few minutes, Clarke composed herself enough to hug Jasper and Monty, wishing them well. As the five of them discussed strategies, Clarke’s voice choked multiple times. Jasper and Monty looked at each other in despair every time, knowing she didn’t want to talk about it and they couldn’t bring it up. Clarke Griffin breaking down? It was unheard of. And seeing it in front of them, they wished they could do more to help.
They knew everyone was on level five, so it wouldn’t be hard to walk around the place without getting spot. As Clarke followed Bellamy, Monty, and Jasper who knew the way, her mind went to another place. Blanking out, she managed to keep her legs moving but she couldn’t stop thinking of what Octavia said to her. At 18 years old, she never asked for this. They landed on the ground content to see the new world in front of them and happy they were free. And here they were, having lost more than 60 of their friends, marching down the wide hallway with no hesitations to kill anyone in their way of saving the last of their people in this hell hole. The only moment Clarke stopped imagining the millions of ways this could go was when her eyes made contact with Bellamy’s. She felt reassurance in them, but it didn’t change how terrible she felt. Nothing will ever cleanse her of the things she had done to get here. Someday she might feel like herself again, but she knew it wouldn’t be soon; she knew what she had to do after today. She just couldn’t tell Bellamy, not until after. Seeing his face would make it that much harder.
Abruptly, a loud bang sounded from behind them. Both Clarke and Bellamy’s hand reached for their guns and turned to the noise with weapons raised. Walking down the hallway casually was a guard. Clarke processed slowly that he had probably had the marrow treatments and it made her viciously livid. Octavia made a run towards him as he noticed their presence as well and immediately grabbed his pistol with his finger on the trigger and had no hesitations in firing the bullet. The shot echoed in the emptiness, a scream from Octavia as she heard it go off but didn’t make a motion to stop swinging her sword at the guard. Killing him in a slice with no issue, she turned in horror to see if anyone had been hit.
Everyone looked green, staring at the blood pouring from Clarke’s stomach and watching it pool, staining her black shirt. She was on her knees choking, but no one could move. The shock and terror on their faces said it all. The only one who sprung into action was Bellamy as his face turned to stone, taking off his jacket and pressing it to the wound. She winced but he didn’t stop. Clarke stared into his eyes deeply, trying to show him how much she loved him without saying a word. It felt like a lost cause trying to do so, as her eye lids took longer to lift, slower and slower, each time she blinked.
“God damn it Princess. Don’t you dare close your eyes on me,” Bellamy mumbled, fumbling his arms as he tried to slip them under her knees to lift her. He looked to Monty and Jasper for help and urged them to keep going.
“There’s no time to stop. Octavia, go and follow them, I’ll be right behind you,” he affirmed to his sister, holding her hand for a split second as she walked past him. Clarke smiled as best she could; she was proud of Bellamy for knowing what’s best.
“If you think I’m leaving you here, you’re mistaken.” Clarke couldn’t remember if Bellamy had kissed her forehead or if she dreamt it, but she did know she passed out then in his arms.
How cliché, Clarke pondered to herself as she fidgeted where she lay, trying to recollect the last place she’d been. Hurriedly, she recalled the gun and the guard and Mount Weather, oh God, oh God. She tried to open her eyes but they felt glued shut, stuck somehow. Eventually she eased into the senses, smelling dust and dirt, feeling a fabric between her fingers that was on top of her, hearing people. It was hard to make out who exactly she was hearing but she knew what they were saying, which was helpful enough.
“It’s been forever since you let me in, Abby. Please.” The voice was deep. Was it even real? Or was she dreaming again? At least she knew it was speaking to Abby. Mom… she thought, fighting hard to move and open her eyes but her head wasn’t cooperating at all.
“I don’t want you worrying too much, she will be okay, and you have a lot to do.” Abby confessed.
“Last time until she comes to, I promise.” The voice spoke again, getting louder slowly as the person came closer. It was silent for a while and Clarke couldn’t make out any noise at all. Until she felt a hand grab hers and the unnamed person started to cry.
“Dear God, Princess. I haven’t cried in a damn long time. Look what you’re doing to me.” It laughed painfully. Bellamy laughed, she told herself, happy to label the boy in front of her. She focused intensely on trying to squeeze his hand as he placed both his hands around hers, pulling it to his forehead as he rested his elbows on the cot. God damn it, work brain. For the first time, work! Clarke pleaded herself until she finally managed to make a motion. Bellamy’s quiet tears stopped as he looked up at Clarke, squeezing her hand back.
“I need you. We all need you. None of us would have survived this place if it weren’t for you, Princess.” He echoed, knowing she was listening.
“You’re cheesy.” She managed to utter, making Bellamy cackle loudly, reasoning Abby to scurry in quickly, and smile at the two. Clarke pivoted her head to her mother and smiled weakly in amusement. Abby tried to return it but knew she had to get out the hard part first.
“The bullet didn’t kill you, and you’re lucky Bellamy applied pressure right away or it would have. The only problem now, is that it went through your torso to your spine, and although I’ve managed to take it out, it seems you and Raven will be leg-brace twins,” Abby broke to Clarke, squeezing her shoulder in support. Bellamy looked down and bit the inside of his cheek.
“I’m sure she’s going to love that. And whatever, right? I bet the metal will hurt more when I kick ass,” Clarke lightened the mood, making Bellamy smile enthusiastically at his ball of light.
“Hey, Blake, do me a favor and stay with her for a while. Help her get adjusted and back into the swing of things. Maybe bring her to see the forty three kids waiting patiently in the other room?”
“Yes, Mrs. Griffin,” Bellamy mock saluted, making Abby smile. The two of them helped her get to her feet and took ten minutes to get her used to the brace on her knee. With her right arm around Bellamy’s neck she started hobbling to the air lock doors.
“Wait Bellamy, come here.” Abby hesitated, stopping them before they left. He leaned Clarke on the wall and jogged back to her mother.
“You need each other. Don’t leave her ever again. I don’t think I can see her the way she was.”
Bellamy took the advice seriously. He never thought about leaving her side. He knew they weren’t romantically involved but she was his princess, forever and always. He could only hope that someday she’d call him her prince.