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There was blood everywhere; on the sheets, on the rug on the floor.
It seemed to be constantly flowing, and no matter what she did, she couldn't stop it. Tears raced down her cheeks as she tried to use the cloths to clog the blood from moving down his body, but every time she pressed harder, more blood would pour out.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking at the words. "I'm so sorry, Bellamy."
Clarke woke with a start, breathing heavily. She rubbed her eyes and pulled her hands down, half expecting to see blood on them. They were dry, but her heart was still beating wildly in her chest and she could still hear the gun being fired. She could still feel the gun in her hands, but she couldn't figure out why she was pointing it at Bellamy Blake.
It was only a dream, she told herself firmly, rolling off the bed. A nightmare. Not real.
She grabbed a sweater from nearby and wrapped it around herself. She noted the sleeping form of her mother on a nearby bed, watching for a moment as her chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern. Quietly, Clarke slipped the knife from the bedside table into her sleeve and left the room, not really sure where she was going, but knowing she couldn't stay there. If she stayed in that room any longer, she wasn't sure she'd make it out without suffocating first.
It had been a week since she returned to Arkadia; an entire week since Lexa took a bullet in her stomach that was meant for Clarke. Still, Clarke felt nothing.
But then, she couldn't remember the last time she actually felt something that wasn't pain or guilt or heartbreak. Definitely not since she stabbed a knife into Finn's chest. How long ago was that? More than three months?
Lexa was right after all. Love was weakness.
Clarke made her way through the quiet aisles of the ship that acted as their home base. It had been a week, but she knew her people were getting restless. King Roan hadn't attacked them yet, but it was only a matter of time before the coalition fell apart now that Lexa was gone. Twelve clans of Grounders and not one attack. Something didn't feel right, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was.
Pike placed a curfew on everyone at Arkadia, but Clarke didn't think that would make much of a difference. The Grounders would attack whether or not everyone was in their beds, and it was better to be prepared for anything. That was how she survived.
Everything around her was quiet - except for the sounds coming from the training room. She had three guesses as to who it would be, and all three of them would be more or less happy to see her. At least she hoped. Relieved to have a destination in mind, she started heading in that direction.
She was tired of wandering around and feeling lost.
When she arrived at the training room, she wasn't entirely surprised to see that it was Bellamy. He was shirtless and sweating, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. He was beating up one of the punching bags they had uncovered, not even using proper gloves for his fists. Even though she knew it had been a nightmare, she felt herself sag with relief that he was still in one piece.
"What'd that sack ever do to you?" she asked, smirking as she leaned against the doorway. She couldn't help but stare a little as she watched him.
Bellamy looked up. "You shouldn't be here, Clarke. It's past curfew," he said, taking another swing and punching the bag right in the middle. The sound echoed through the room as she rolled her eyes.
"Since when has that stopped me?"
"Did you sneak out just to banter with me?"
"No, I actually came here because I heard noise and thought I would check it out," she replied, glaring at him. "But since I see everything's fine, I'll leave you to your one-man war."
She turned and started heading back out. She hated the way things changed between them since she'd been back; hated how she could still feel the ghost of the handcuffs on her wrists from when he attempted to restrain her to the desk. Clarke noticed Bellamy's guard jacket laying on the floor of the gym, and she was half-tempted to spit on it. He wanted it more than anything, and now it was turning her best friend into a monster.
Now that she thought about it, there was probably a very good reason she shot him in her dream.
Clarke thought - or maybe she simply hoped - that he would come after her. Instead, she heard the continuous sound of him beating the shit out of the bag and she sighed.
There wasn't really anywhere she could without risking being seen by someone. Most of the guards were posted by the medical facilities or out on the grounds in case of an attack, but she felt like Pike somehow knew everything that happened in camp.
Clarke wandered for a while, glad that all she could hear was the echo of her own footsteps. She thought about Bellamy in the training room, about his guard jacket, about her dream; about Lexa and Finn and all of those people she killed at Mount Weather. It was all a weight pressed against her chest, suffocating her, making it impossible for her to breathe.
She knew she was doing what she thought was right for her people at the time, with the exception of Lexa's death, but that didn't make the burden any easier to bear. She knew it was a curse of being a leader - as she'd told Bellamy, she bore the pain so that her people didn't have to, but how much more could she take before she broke?
The answer was simple: she couldn't break. She couldn't afford it.
She remembered Jasper mentioning that the only thing that got him through the darkness after Maia was moonshine. Clarke also knew he blamed her for Maia's death. It made her angry sometimes - she'd saved Jasper's life, once, but everyone forgot about that. Anything she ever did was to save her people.
Clarke paused briefly, taking in her surroundings to see where her feet had led her. It took her a moment to recognize that she was in the basement. It wasn't really a basement, more of a sub-level, but it was where the piano sat as well as a bar. She walked over to the other side of the counter and sat in the stool, reaching below the bar before opening a bottle of moonshine.
Let Pike catch her here. Let him see that she, too, was a human haunted by her demons.
Perhaps the moonshine would help her forget both of those things.
"To you, Lexa," she whispered, raising the bottle, closing her eyes, and taking a swallow.
She winced as the liquid ran down her throat, still not used to the taste. She remembered drinking that night with Wells and Finn in the art bunker. She remembered that Wells, too, was gone.
Everyone she loved was gone. Except for Bellamy - but she wasn't sure he counted anymore.
Clarke took another drink, and then another, waiting for Jasper's promise to kick in. Waiting for that moment where she forgot all the pain.
"So, what? You've taken to drinking alone now?"
She looked up, surprised to see Bellamy standing on the other side of the bar. He was properly dressed now, but at least he'd ditched the jacket. His hair was a mess, and she could tell he'd come directly from the training room because she could still see the sweat pouring down his face.
"Who would you rather me drink with?" she deadpanned. "Wells? Finn? Lexa?"
"You have other friends, Clarke," he replied, leaning against the counter top. "Jasper, Monty, Miller..."
"...You?" she asked, looking up at him and hating the desperation in her voice. She blamed the moonshine for the crack in emotion.
He sighed heavily, hoisting himself up on the counter and sitting on top of it, letting his legs dangle nearby. Bellamy paused for a moment before allowing himself to sink below and gracefully land on a stool next to hers.
"Me," he finally said, taking the bottle from her. She was about to protest, thinking he was going to throw it away, but instead, he pressed the bottle to his lips and took a long swig.
Clarke watched him for a moment, taking in his dark, shaggy hair, dark skin, and brown eyes. This close, she could see the freckles that dotted his features, could see the strong muscles in his shoulders and his arms. She was relieved when he passed the moonshine bottle back to her so that she wouldn't be caught staring - because up close, he really was beautiful.
"What are you doing with Pike, Bellamy?" she asked, after some silence had fallen between them. It was the question that was sitting at the tip of her tongue every time she saw him; she'd wanted to ask him the last time she'd seen him, but somehow, it hadn't come up.
"I'm a guard."
She rolled her eyes again. "Do you think I'm an idiot? What are you doing with Pike?"
"The same thing you were doing with Lexa," he replied simply, taking the bottle back from her and taking another swig. She could feel his eyes on her as he drank, but she forced herself to keep her eyes forward. She was proud of herself for not wincing at the name of her fallen commander. He finally swallowed and set the bottle between them. "Keeping our people safe."
"By attacking Grounders and instigating war and violence? That's not who you are."
"How do you know who I am anymore, Clarke?" he asked, and there was a bite in his tone that she couldn't quite recognize, but it almost sounded like bitterness. "You left."
"I told you," she began slowly, finally turning to meet his eyes. His gaze bore into hers, almost like a challenge, and she almost smiled; that was the Bellamy she knew. "I knew I could leave because our friends had you. I knew you would protect them."
"That's what I'm doing!" he protested, standing up. "I'm protecting them. I'm keeping myself alive. And in order to do that, I have to do everything he says -- even if I don't agree with it! You think I'm happy killing all these people? You think it's what I want?"
"Isn't it?" she asked, standing up so that he wasn't towering over her. She felt more comfortable when they were on the same level. "How are you looking out for them if you're just looking out for yourself?"
"Not all of us can just leave on a whim, Clarke!" he exclaimed, his voice rising. "We can't just decide to turn our backs on our people when we're hurting. I have to look out for myself and watch myself around Pike because then maybe I can figure out a way to keep our friends safe from the inside!"
"It wasn't just a whim, Bellamy!" she argued, inching closer to him. "I had to leave. For me. I always do whatever everyone wants me to do, and I just needed a break before I broke!"
"You turned your back on us," he replied, glaring at her. "You turned your back on me."
Clarke realized, then, that he wasn't just upset because she left her people behind to go mourn and try to figure out a way to move forward. He was upset because she left him - her best friend, her partner. How would she have felt if he'd left her instead? Wouldn't she side with Pike to keep her people safe? Wasn't that what she'd done at Mount Weather?
"Bellamy --"
"You left me, Clarke."
Now Clarke winced. She wanted to reach out to him, but if she did, she knew he'd pull away from her. As it was, she just now realized how close they were standing. She could feel his breath on her face and their bodies were nearly touching. One step closer and they would be pressed together, more lines blurred. It would be a lie if Clarke said she hadn't thought about it before.
"I'm sorry," she finally said, her voice cracking at the apology she should have given him on her first night back. "I'm so sorry. I just... everything was too much. I couldn't let myself be weak in front of everyone. I had to get out."
"But I'm not everyone," he said quietly. "You can be weak in front of me. That's how we survive, Clarke. We hold each other steady."
"I'm feeling very unsteady right now," she whispered, staring up at him. Her eyes were shining with tears again. "I don't know who I am anymore, Bellamy. That's why I left. Was I always the kind of person who would stab Finn or kill hundreds of innocent people?"
"I don't know. I didn't know you before, Clarke, but I know who you are now."
"And who is that?"
He took that step closer to her, and her heart almost stopped beating in her chest. "You're Clarke Griffin," he replied, his voice quiet. A drastic change from the near-shouting he'd been doing before. "You're strong, fierce, and a complete pain in my ass. But you're the leader of the Hundred. Not Abby, not Kane, not Pike -- not even me. You. Don't lose sight of that."
Clarke's heart swelled at his words, and she blinked back tears. "I guess the cost of leadership is bearing it alone," she whispered. "I've lost everyone I've ever loved. Wells, Finn, Lexa..." Her voice choked back at the last name, but she didn't feel ashamed of being weak anymore.
"Not everyone," he murmured. "You haven't lost me."
She snorted; she couldn't help it. "I'm sorry. I know I haven't lost you. But... how do you know you fit into the category of those I love?"
This time, Bellamy smirked at her. "You think I'm an idiot?"
Clarke glared at him. "You're impossible," she growled, rolling her eyes and turning around. She didn't know if she was leaving yet or if she simply couldn't face him when her face felt like it was on fire from him calling her out.
"Clarke."
Suddenly, his hand was on her wrist, pulling her back to him. She stumbled at the movement, but then she was pressed against him once again, looking up at her best friend.
He didn't say anything at first. All he did was stare at her - his dark brown eyes searching her blue ones, and looking into his eyes felt like coming home. She loved Lexa, but it was something entirely different from what she felt for Bellamy.
"What?" she finally demanded, glaring at him. She hated feeling this exposed with no idea how he was feeling.
Instead of responding with words, he closed the remaining distance between them and pressed his lips gently against hers. She hesitated for a moment, and as he started to pull away from her, she drew him back into her and kissed him back.
Warmth, desire, fire - none of those words seemed to capture exactly what she was feeling. She felt whole again, and that was with only a kiss. She felt centered. She felt like, for just even a fraction of a second, everything could be okay as long as she stayed here with him.
They kissed for longer than a fraction of a second. Bellamy deepened the kiss, and Clarke's hands found their way into his hair. She pushed herself closer to him, want and need filling her. His hands remained on her side, though, although his thumbs brushed against her skin underneath her shirt.
Finally, after what seemed like forever and not nearly long enough, he pulled away. She was breathless, and he rested his forehead against hers.
"If you love me, don't let go," he whispered.
"Not a chance in hell," she replied. She wanted to kiss him again, to get that feeling back, to feel something, but she finally pulled away, though her hands remained laced in his. "But I just... I can't right now, Bellamy. I want to, but after Lexa..."
"You loved her. Didn't you?"
She nodded. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," he said quietly. He took his free hand and gently cupped her face with his, thumb caressing her cheek. "It's okay. You just needed to know that you fall into the category of those I love, too."
Clarke cracked a smile. "You think I'm an idiot?"
"You've been saying that a lot today."
"Sometimes I think it's true."
He smiled at her then, and it was amazing at how a simple gesture could make her heart explode. "I've never thought you were an idiot, Clarke. Sometimes a reckless, impulsive pain in the ass, but never an idiot."
She laughed. "That's comforting."
"We should probably get out of here," he said, glancing behind them to the dark sub-level. "The guards will be here soon to do a walkthrough."
"Do you know who's on duty tonight?"
"Miller and Brian."
"Then we probably should go," she agreed. She mostly didn't want to risk being seen by their friends and having to explain what they were doing and what it meant. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that conversation herself.
"We should."
They stood still, staring at each other, Clarke waiting for Bellamy to make the first move. When he didn't, she decided they could risk another few minutes without being caught and moved closer to him, pressing her lips against his one more time. She wasn't sure the next time she could do this, and she needed to feel it one more time; she needed to feel him against her, as much as she could allow for now.
He kissed her back, filling her with that whole feeling, and Clarke felt like whatever this was or meant -- it could be enough.
They could survive anything as long as they had each other.