Chapter Text
The silence is awkward between them as they walk through the forest. Bellamy finds himself conflicted between wanting to break it, and reveling in it: in the opportunity to enjoy these moments back in the woods he missed so much: the soft dirt under his boots, the intense smells in the air, the feeling of rough bark under his fingertips.
When they take a turn, and the trees fall away, revealing a lush clearing, complete with a roaring waterfall, a mirror-like lake, and a deer skipping back into the foliage, his heart stops.
This this is home. He can nearly see their little huts huddled on the edge of the clearing, a small garden where Monty can grow their vegetables, a long-house where they can share their meals, meet to watch movies. A small squat building that would be Raven’s workshop. They could hunt in these forests, jump from the waterfall into the lake and, maybe a mill on the river sneaking out of the clearing? He would build a swing set – he always wanted a swing, maybe Madi would appreciate it. And behind his hut, they could clear a small sparring ring for Echo. First thing in the morning he would run laps around the lake with her by his side, just like they did on the ring. And come home to breakfast with Clarke and Madi…
He flinches at the selfishness of that thought. To assume-
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” asks Clarke beside him.
“Yes.”
“There are caves behind the waterfall. We have an emergency stock in there: tents and hunting equipment.”
“Were you afraid someone might attack you?”
“I like to be prepared for everything.” There’s a beat. “The rover used to break down all the time, so we had different spots all over the valley, where we could bunker down until it decided to work again.”
“Smart.”
“It was a necessity. Once we got caught in a thunderstorm. We got hypothermia.” She swallows. “It was back at the beginning when the temperatures fluctuated harshly and without warning and all our crops died.”
“I didn’t know you had crops.”
“We don’t. They never grew.”
She turns on her heel, shutting him out again. He feels a pang of guilt like he’s said something to offend her somehow.
They walk in silence for a few more minutes.
“I wish I knew what happened to you,” he finds himself saying.
Clarke frowns at him. “What do you mean? Nothing happened to me.”
“I mean-“ He climbs over the huge trunk of a fallen tree, turns to offer his hand for Clarke. The blonde looks at it for a moment too long before taking it. His heart does a little somersault. “You must have a thousand stories about your time on the ground.” He shrugs. His hand tingles when she lets go of him. “I wish you would tell me.”
She seems irritated by the proposition, opens her mouth to snap at him, but closes it with an audible click instead. “There isn’t much to tell. You probably have better ones from the Ark.”
“Ah! But you know how life on the Ring was already. I never knew what peace on the ground was.” He tries for a smile; Clarke’s eyes on him are harsh and ice cold. “Look, Clarke. I am trying here.”
The blonde sighs. It’s a tired, defeated sound. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… I told you all there was to tell already.” Bellamy frowns and she can’t look him in the eye. “Back when you were up on the Ring. I always hoped that you could hear me, even if you couldn’t answer.” She chuckles a self-deprecating little laugh. “I guess the radio was shit.”
“Raven said radio waves couldn’t get through due to atmospheric radiation or something like that,” he explains.
Another silence, slightly less awkward now. “Ok, how about this: you tell me a story about the Ring, and I tell you one of the ground.”
Bellamy chuckles. “Ok”
“You start.”
And so the rest of the walk goes, swapping stories, getting reacquainted, becoming friends once again, trusting each other with their secrets.
The problem is the more they talk, the more he discovers about this new, more mature Clarke, the more the feelings he had for her six years ago reawaken, bullying their way back into his heart, reclaiming that spot between his heart and his lungs that shaped like her.