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A/N: Hello world! This is literally the first thing I've written in AGES and the first thing I've written for The 100 Fandom. Also, it was written on my cell phone in the midst of a power outage, so there's probably a million typos (insert shrugging emoji). This is just an idea of how I like to imagine "the list" scene in 4x03 might have (or could have) gone, at least in the imagination of a Bellarke shipper. Canon up to a point, then I take all the creative liberties. Thanks for reading! I do not own The 100 or any of the characters therein, but I do love them dearly.
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Two more.
Two more available spots on Clarke's "God List"; 100 people lucky enough to be chosen to shelter the impending apocalypse on the ark, to be the final survivors of the human race.
It seemed these kinds of impossible decisions were constantly falling into Clarke's lap, a responsibility she often shouldered and would never grow used to. How does one person choose, out of hundreds, which hundred get to live? And that was only considering Skaikru, not even covering the Grounders she had built relationships with in the time they'd been on Earth like Roan, Indra, and many more. If only it were as easy as Raven made it seem when she'd lashed out a few days ago. Clarke knew she didn't mean to, it was a stressful time for all of them. Ironically, Jaha had been a pillar of support recently, offering that he knew how she felt, after all, he made a similar choice when he sent them down to the ground to begin with. She still wasn't sure how to feel about being able to relate to Jaha.
The tiniest sigh broke her attention from the Sky People she was watching work dutifully on the ship they may not get to inhabit, and Clarke turned towards the messy brown haired man lounged comfortably on the couch in her quarters, napping.
And what a man Bellamy Blake had become. The loyal, caring, steadfast companion she now knew was a far cry from the rebellious, hard edged one who first opened the Drop Ship door. Bellamy had refused to leave her once they returned from their failed backup plan mission with Jaha and she embarked on creating the impossible list before her. He knew how anxious she was, and how difficult a task it would be. He was a real, true and genuine friend to her, much like Wells had been once upon a time. Another sad story, another pointless death. She'd had no power in that situation at all, she could offer no help to her old friend. But that wasn't the case now.
Clarked looked to her list again, determinedly. There was no doubt in her mind that Bellamy Blake deserved a spot there, Bellamy had to live. He could take care of their people, lead and guide them as needed. There was no one else she would trust more to do so, even her mother. She scribbled his name on the paper quickly, surely, hell, she should have written him down at the top of the list. Saving him for second to last felt more right though, somehow. Saving the last two spots for he and, well, he would tell her to write herself. She stared at the open space now though, number 100, and still couldn't find the nerve to actually put her name there. The thought of saving herself, even at Bellamy's demand, felt like a betrayal of some sort. As if she were claiming herself more worthy of being saved than someone with far, far less blood on their hands. Which is, in essence, exactly what she'd be doing.
How can I take that spot from someone else?
Perhaps it would be best to choose someone else, someone better, and bow out gracefully. Bellamy would be hurt, he would miss her, just like her mom would, but eventually he would have to understand. After all, he wasn't going to accept a slot for himself to begin with either, she had demanded that he did.
It's Bellamy, he'll understand, and he'll do what's best.
She turned to take another look at him, still asleep, unaware of the internal turmoil she faced, and stifled a groan. He looked so peaceful, so at ease, a sight she didn't get to see often. It had been so long since any of them had felt any sense of peace. The sight alone would've been enough to calm her own nerves and maybe even bring a smile to her face, if not for the sudden onslaught of guilt that suddenly washed over her.
You've left him before.
Clarked frowned, remembering vividly the sad look on his face when she left him after Mt. Weather, and the frown only intensified when she remembered the tortured expression on his face when he confessed his anger at her for leaving on the beach much later. He'd been so vulnerable then, not only admitting his anger but confessing that he didn't want to feel that way anymore. Truthfully, she hadn't considered the burden that she'd left him to bear alone when she chose to walk away. She had naively assumed that deciding to embrace the burden of that tragedy herself and walk away with it, would indeed take it and the brunt of its effects away with her.
It hadn't.
Could she really place that kind of burden on her dearest friend again?
Clarked ripped her gaze from him and closed her eyes tightly, fighting back the tears threatening the corners of her eyes. She released a heavy sigh, and brought a hand up to fruitlessly attempt rubbing the tension out of her furrowed brow. More sighs came as she struggled with the thoughts warring in her mind. Then, a soft grunt and gentle rustle from the couch alerted her that he was awake. Clearly, the tension rolling off of her in waves had permeated his peaceful slumber. Way to go Clarke, she thought, glancing at him guiltily before looking back down at the page.
Bellamy approached quietly, taking in her stressful demeanor, no doubt, and came to stand by her side at the desk. He looked over her shoulder, scanning the list quickly before speaking.
"If I'm on that list, you're on that list." He left no room for argument, but she tried anyway.
"Bellamy, I can't-"
"Write it down. Write it down, or I will." His tone was solemn and completely serious, with an underlying current of power and responsibility that resonated with her on the deepest level. Once again, Bellamy was willing to shoulder a burden for her with no hesitations. His devotion made her lips quiver and fresh tears erupt from her eyes; she didn't deserve it.
Clarked stared at the list, willing herself to write her name down, saving him the trouble. To save him from being the person to selfishly claim the very last spot for humanity. For Wanheda, Commander of Death, it should've been an easy task, but it wasn't, she just couldn't do it. So, she shook her head silently, looking away from the paper, and him, helplessly.
Without a word, Bellamy made good on his vow and pulled the paper towards himself. She watched as he took her pen and scrawled her name in all caps, as if he were shouting it from a rooftop. He straightened, placed the cap back on the pen and slid it back to the center of the table as if to say it is finished. She would've laughed at the irony, considering that they were playing God once again, if it weren't so tragic.
"So, what now?" she questioned, looking up to him and noting that he'd stepped even closer to her side. Her strong Co-Leader, always by her side and always knowing when she needed support.
"Now, we put it away and hope we never have to use it."
"You still have hope?" she questioned without the slightest bit of condescension, pleading, wide eyes boring into his soft brown ones. She admired that about him, his ability to be positive in the midst of the darkest situations.
"We still breathing?" he challenged, meeting her gaze.
As long as Bellamy Blake was alive, he would have hope. He was her sense of positivity when she couldn't seem to find it on her own, a strong pillar she'd been able to lean on for as long as she could remember. Once upon a time, she was more like that, she thought. Maybe one day, he would rub off on her enough that she could be like that again, maybe they all could. That was just one of the many reasons that Bellamy Blake had to live. And if Bellamy Blake living meant that Clarke Griffin did too, then so be it.
Together.
Bellamy's large, warm hand found her shoulder and curled around it, and she instantly felt some of the tension leave her body. She closed her eyes and covered his hand with her own, leaning towards their joined hands to rest her cheek against them and revel in the sense of peace and comfort he provided. Clarke was thankful to have him, though she didn't recognize it as much as she probably should. Times like these, though, she was truly reminded of how much she needed him. It was true in the beginning of their tumultuous journey and even more so now.
"Get some sleep," he said softly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Clarke nodded in response, immediately disliking the disconnected feeling that came with him releasing her shoulder and turning to leave.
"Bellamy?" Her lips moved before she'd made the conscious choice to speak.
"Yeah?"
"Can you...stay?"
The vulnerability in her voice surprised herself, though there was no real fear that he would reject her. He was her best friend, he'd always take care of her; that much was clear.
A look the couldn't quite place flashed across his face, then it was gone as quickly. Bellamy offered her a gentle smile and nodded. "Whatever you need."
Clarke nodded in return, grabbing the list and folding it to tuck into her desk drawer hopefully to never need it. Once it was safely stashed, she looked up and found Bellamy standing just a bit awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of what exactly to do next.
She tried to hide her grin. Bellamy, the man with a plan, standing in her bedroom at a complete loss, scratching at the hem of his tattered brown t-shirt waiting for direction, all in the name of meeting her needs. It was...cute. Clarke found herself from time to time appreciating just how attractive Bellamy was. It wasn't something she allowed herself to indulge in terribly often, but still, it was an undeniable fact. There were times when the muscles of his forearms and shoulders called for attention, times when the depths of his brown eyes seemed to make things go a bit fuzzy for her, times when his none too frequent smile disarmed her, times when he was much more attractive than he was even trying to be.
Times like now.
Ever the leader, Clarke turned her back on him and led them to the small cot in her quarters. It wasn't very large, but there was ample room for the two of them allowing that they didn't mind being cuddled up. Tonight, she didn't mind and she was willing to bet Bellamy didn't either.
"It'll be kind of a tight fit," she warned, sitting on the edge of the cot. Clarke toed her boots off, and Bellamy followed suit removing his shoes and belt as well.
"That's fine, just don't kick me," he joked.
"No promises." And it was kind of true. Clarke had been sleeping fitfully, at best, since she'd returned from the City of Light. Sleep itself was elusive and when she did find it, there were nothing but nightmares, from horrific pictures of things to come with the radiation and death wave, to mourning her last fleeting moments with Lexa in the flame, to tormenting over the fact that by flipping the kill switch she'd taken so many people's choice away, worse than Allie herself some would surely think. For almost every impossible choice she made, she would always fear whether or not she done the right thing; it was haunting.
Clarke shuddered slightly, relieved when she felt Bellamy's gentle hand on her shoulder once again. He was always so keen at understanding her, at coming through when she needed him. Just like him waking up in the midst of her turmoil earlier, he proved his innate sense of knowing when she was in trouble, and being willing to help, even if sometimes at his own expense.
"Hey, I'm here," he assured her. "Kick me all you want, I'm not going anywhere."
She relaxed a bit at his words and lie down on her side, careful not to take up too much space. She felt rather than saw Bellamy stretch out beside her, extending one long, muscular arm beneath the pillow as his body fell in line behind hers.
"It's just that, I haven't been sleeping well. Nightmares..." she surmised, sparing him the details she was sure he could imagine.
"I didn't think you were."
Of course he figured as much, he knew her, but still. "How could you tell?" she questioned.
"Well, I wasn't gonna mention it, but you've had awful raccoon eyes for days."
"Uh!" she groaned playfully, shoving her arm backward into his chest. "Thanks."
"No, it's not that bad," he chuckled. "I could tell, though. I haven't been sleeping so well either, after everything..." he trailed off.
"Hmph, Could've fooled me with that peaceful nap you were taking like, five seconds ago," she teased.
Clarke felt him shrug. "You were here, I knew you were safe."
"You worry about me too much," she told him, knowing that she was indeed the pot calling the kettle black.
"Most of my nightmares," he started, and she could sense his own tension for the first time, "are about failing you, all of you." Clarke could hear the sincerity in his voice and realized this was likely the only time he'd admitted this aloud. "I imagine your nightmares are worse though."
"It's not a competition," she offered quietly. "We're all haunted by something."
Clarke wrapped her arms around herself and was surprised to feel his arm cover hers. A zing shot through her spine at the welcome comfort she didn't realize she needed and she felt herself relax, so she slid back ever so slightly to lessen the miniscule gap between them.
"Thank you," she whispered, sure he could hear her. "For being here, for taking care of me, for everything. If it makes you feel any better, I have no fears of you failing us whatsoever, you haven't let me down yet. Honestly, I don't know how I'd do this without you." And it wasn't just lip service, she meant it.
"You'd manage just fine, you always find a way," he decided, stroking his rough fingertips across her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "It's what makes you such a good leader."
"Co-Leader," she reminded him. Clarke looked back over her shoulder to lock eyes with him and didn't miss the way he bashfully averted his gaze.
"Whatever you say, Princess."
"Bellamy, don't do that," she pouted, flipping over so that they were face to face. It wouldn't be so easy to avoid her gaze now. "There's no way our people would've made it without you here, we both know it and the rest of them do too. When I walked away, you were here to pick up the pieces and keep everyone moving forward." He frowned a bit, and she knew she had his attention. "Our people need you. You've always inspired them, that's never changed. Sure, you've made some mistakes along the way, but which of us hasn't? You learn from it, and you always come through. You're a good leader, Bellamy, you're a good man," she finished, piercing his brown eyes with her blue and pointedly pressing her palm against his chest, where his enormous heart beat strongly. "I really wish you believed that as much as I do."
She could tell from the contemplative look on his face that he was considering her words. She watched the emotions flit across his face; skepticism, doubt, hesitance, them finally, hope. The ghost of tears threatened the corners of his eyes, them his strong arms snaked around her waist and she reacted quickly, arms locking around his neck. Bellamy pulled her into his chest and she tucked her face into to crook of his neck, pouring all of her affection, all of her belief in him, into their embrace. She could feel him doing the same.
The few and far between moments that they shared an embrace like this were never fleeting and far from empty. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity as they held one another together, while everything else seemed to he falling apart. It felt good to return some of the support he was constantly showing her, even if in the simplest of actions.
"Thank you," he breathed into her hair eventually, and she found herself trying to recall the last time she had washed her hair. Nevertheless, he didn't seem to be complaining.
"Anytime."
Thankfully, Bellamy didn't release her completely from the embrace. Without uttering a word, they both seemed to agree to stay in one another's arms to allow sleep to find them. Clarke's hands slid from his neck and down his chest, finding new resting spots against his abdomen and across his side. Bellamy, for his part, kept one arm draped around her waist, the other, still beneath the pillow, beckoned her closer, supporting her head so she could rest it comfortably against his shoulder. It was sweet and comfortable, and overwhelmingly right.
"This is nice," she commented, nuzzling her face against him.
"It is." She could hear the smile in his voice.
The minutes passed peacefully while Clarke and Bellamy basked in the newfound intimacy they'd found tonight. Their breathing fell into sync, which was pretty cool. Clarke fixated on the feel of his chest rising and falling, entertained by the way it directly affected her body pressed against his.
"Are you asleep?" he asked suddenly, surprising her.
"No, not yet."
"I didn't think so. Didn't hear any snoring."
"I don't snore," she gasped, smacking his chest lightly.
"Oh, you snore alright," he laughed. "There wasn't a night I walked past your tent on Guard and didn't wonder how such a monstrous sound could come from a princess of all people."
Clarke's cheeks pinked and this time he caught her little fist when she started to smack him.
"I- really?"
"It's true," he nodded, laughing at her expense, though he hadn't released her hand yet.
"Well, I never snored before," she argued. "I think it must be the humidity in Earth's atmosphere or something, disrupting my nasal passage-"
"It's okay, Clarke" he grinned. "I think it's cute."
"I am pretty cute, so I'm sure if I do snore, it is," she agreed, smiling at her own cheekiness.
"Yeah, you are" he said simply.
Clarke looked up to him then. She'd been expecting a smart remark, but much more enjoyed absorbing the appreciative way he stared down at her. His eyes traced her face, and she couldn't remember feeling so pretty in a long time. She had always known that Bellamy found her attractive, just like she'd always registered how attractive he was. However, putting those two thoughts together was a novel concept. Realizing that they were two people, who cared for and were attracted to one another, lying curled up together in the same bed right here at the end of the world as they knew it, was heady.
She reached up, allowing her hands to take the lead and traced his lower lip with her index finger gently, enjoying the smoothness of it as much as the way his eyes darkened slightly.
"Clarke, what are you doing?"
"I don't know," she said, "but it feels nice." She inched a little closer, shifting so that her face was closer to his. She could feel him tensing under her touch, now trailing her fingers along his abs through his shirt. "Is this weird?"
"Yeah." She frowned. "But, not in a bad way."
"I know what you mean," she admitted, thrilled that he didn't seem opposed. Now that she was really looking at him, touching him, and feeling the way he responded to her, she didn't really wanna stop.
Throwing all caution to the wind, she was about to press her lips to his, to finally see what it felt like, when he pulled back, looking at her quizzically.
"Wait, why are you doing this now?" he asked carefully, as if weighing each word before saying it.
Clarke thought for a second then shook her head. "I don't know," she offered lamely. "I just know that being here with you, like this, makes me feel better than I've felt in a long time. I wanna focus on us, here in this moment, how good it feels, and not shy away from that. Life's too short," she shrugged, blushing.
"Whatever the hell you want," Bellamy responded, flashing her the most endearing smile she'd ever seen grace his handsome face.
Clarke smiled, eyeing him carefully as she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. They moved together like they were meant to do so, kissing softly and sweetly. Bellamy deepened the kiss and she melted against him, fingers grasping at his shirt. Eventually they had to break to catch their breath, and Clarke wondered why they'd wasted so much time not kissing before.
"That was-"
"Perfect," he finished for her, stealing the word from her lips much like he'd just stolen her breath away.
"Why stop now?" she asked innocently, cupping his face in her hands. "The night's still young and between the two of us we have lots of demons to evade."
Bellamy matched her innocent smile with a mischievous smirk of his own. "They'll never catch up to us," he growled. Bellamy captured her lips with his in a searing kiss, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her flush against him.
They became a tangle of limbs on the small cot, exploring one another in new ways, hurriedly ridding themselves of clothing, giggling and shuffling when one of them almost fell over the edge. The atmosphere danced between lighthearted and fun to intense and passionate naturally, and when they were connected in the deepest of ways, his body sinking into hers, the sounds of soft sighs, whispered affections and pounding hearts created a lovely soundscape for their tryst.
Hours later, they lie asleep in one another's arms, Bellamy the big spoon to her little while she snored gently. He didn't dream of failing her, especially after pleasing her multiple times. Clarke didn't have radiation or Allie nightmares, but dreams of hope for a future, peace in eye of the storm, messy brown hair and sweet whispered nothing's.