Chapter Text
Clarke was a good fighter. She was experienced and swift and Bellamy heavily relied on her while he was fighting, because despite his strength, someone was always stronger.
The party was in full swing. Raven was cutting someone to pieces with her sword, Miller was chasing someone around the abandoned building, Jasper and Monty were attacking the same guy with their teeth, Finn was shoving someone against the wall and scratching him to shreds, Octavia was launching knifes in a particularly sadistic form of torture, Monroe had her hand around one guy’s neck and Clarke was shooting arrows while Bellamy did his alpha thing.
Which was: Stand around and look menacing and crush an enemy in, like, a second.
Clarke had an arrow poised, pointed directly at the head of an oncoming werewolf when suddenly her body was it with a wave of shock and she dropped her bow to the floor with a pathetic clank. Her eyes widened and she felt her breathing stop. The werewolf was coming at her but Clarke fisted her hands in her hair, doubled over and screamed.
She screeched at the top of her lungs, so loud, that Bellamy turned away from his current fight to see her crumbling to the floor. The alpha wasn’t stopping so Bellamy roared and launched himself at her, slamming whoever she was into the floor while Clarke collapsed onto her knees with her head thrown back in an ear piercing howl.
Clarke suddenly stopped screaming and sucked in a sharp breath as she threw herself forward and landed on her hands. Her chest was heaving and tears watered her eyes. Bellamy watched in panic from the side and suddenly the whole room went silent, He glanced around.
The fight was won, just like Bellamy knew it would be.
Clarke stood on all fours, her chest still heaving as Bellamy ran over to her. He picked her off the ground and onto her feet, his hands secured around her arms. “Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?” he demanded, lifting her jacket off her back and roaming is hands over her ribs and around her neck.
He pauses monetarily when she looked up at him in shock with her mouth parted and He realised that being this close to her was not doing anything for his self control.
She slowly placed a hand over his wrist and he paused. “Monroe.”She whispered, turning around to point.
Monroe’s body lay limp on the floor with a rapidly increasing pool of blood beside her. He face was mangled and torn to shreds and Clarke could practically hear her screams echoing in her head. Miller dropped down beside her and unflinchingly pushed the hair from what remained of her face and placed a kiss on her forehead. Silently sobbing.
Bellamy stared and sighed loudly, running his hand through his hair “Fuck.” He muttered.
Bellamy walked over and a few minutes later, Miller picked her up and carried her to the morgue. Clarke sat on one of the steps with her legs bend and her head down. Her bow was on the floor beside her and Bellamy nearly didn’t see her because her clothing blended in completely with the night.
He tentatively sat next to her, “You okay?”
Clarke looked up at him with tears stinging her eyes, she violently rubbed them away, “Yeah. I’m fine.”
He used him thumb to wipe the blood that laced her cheek and frowned, “What happened out there?” he asked.
She frowned worriedly, “I don’t know.” She whispered, her body shaking from the sheer shock
Bellamy rubbed his eyes, “Why d’you scream Clarke?” he tried again.
She buried her face in her hands, “I don’t know” she repeated stronger.
He threw his hands up, “You don’t know, you don’t know, Clarke you could have died!”
Clarke stared straight ahead at the place of Monroe’s last breath, where the blood was smeared in the shape of someone who no longer existed, “But I didn’t. She did.” Bellamy relaxed and nodded understandingly, his hand coming to rest on her back and gently rubbing it reassuringly. She shuffled closer to him, until their legs were brushing against each other and she looked at him. She reached up and wiped the blood that was above his eyebrow, “What if next time, It’s you, or Raven, or Octavia.”
He sighed, “Princess, I wouldn’t send her out if I didn’t know she could handle it. Things happen; Monroe knew what she was getting herself into.” Bellamy reassured.
Clarke tilted her head to look up at him and he could see the pure fear in her eyes. “I heard her” she whispered, terrified with her entire body shaking from pure fear.
He frowned, “What?”
She swallowed, “I could hear the voices telling me she was going to die. I heard her last breath. I heard her die, and when she did, it’s like something hit me. I screamed. I think it’s because she died.”
Bellamy raised an eyebrow and shook his head, “Go home princess. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I figured it out”
Bellamy jumped from his bed. He was surprised that he hadn’t smelt her sooner, but she knew how to get around werewolf senses. “What the hell Clarke?” he cried, rubbing his eyes.
The moonlight was streaming through his window and shone down on Clarke who was standing at the end of his bed like some creepy 60’s horror movie. She was dressed in a pair of grey shorts with a loose white shirt and her hair in a bun while she paced around his room with a sense of urgency behind her words.
“Why I keep screaming, I figured it out. I’ve been researching on the internet, but then I realised it’s the internet, and what kind of banshee has the time or the bother to write on Wikipedia about how twisted her life is so, I started reading the book that Raven’s dad has and-”
“Clarke!” He yelled, trying to gain her attention and stop her from pacing around his room.
“What?”
Bellamy pointed to his clock, “It’s three o’clock in the morning and... did you come through the window?” he added and Clarke stared at him while he clambered out of bed.
Her eyes were wide, not with panic, panic was becoming a familiar emotion; they were filled with fear. A dreading fear that Clarke had carried around for months. She looked petrified, like it was in her nature, like her own existence scared her. “I need help.” She stated strongly, an underlying beg.
He scoffed, “What else is new?”
“Bellamy.” She grabbed both of his arms, forcing him to look at her. He frowned at the intense look in her eyes; she seemed manic, insane, like she hadn’t slept at all. “I’m serious.” She stated gravely.
He nodded slowly, “Okay.” he agreed, pushing the hair away from her face, “Whatever you need princess.”
Clarke reached into her pocket and pulled out a small needle, holding it towards a wary Bellamy. He shuffled back slightly as she looked at him. “I need you to take my blood”
“What?”
Clarke woke up the next morning on a soft green couch in the middle of Bellamy’s warehouse. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. The sunlight was streaming through the loft window and Clarke winced. She held her arm up to shield her from the light just as the front door slid to the side with a loud clank.
Bellamy strutted in, wearing no shirt and drinking a cup of coffee which she suddenly started craving. “Morning sunshine” he stated, taking a sip and Clarke groaned.
“What am I doing here?” she asked, running her fingers through her hair.
Bellamy frowned, seating himself down next to her. It took all of Clarke’s self control not to stare at his torso while he placed the cup of coffee on his coffee table. “You don’t remember?” he asked carefully.
She raised a confused eyebrow, “What happened?”
He scoffed, “You broke in at about 3 am blabbering about something to do with a banshee Wikipedia page” Clarke buried her head in her hands and groaned. “And then you asked me to take your blood”
She snapped her neck around to look at him, "what?"
Bellamy nodded, leaning back on his sofa, “Do you know what you were talking about?”
She frowned at him. She suddenly snapped her fingers and her eyes burst open, “I figured it out”
He sighed loudly, almost rolling his eyes, “Here we go again.”
Clarke waved him off. “Raven’s dad has a book of all the supernatural creatures in existence and I was reading through it, trying to find out what it is that I am. And I came across this...” she trailed off, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. She laid it out onto the table, unfolding it and pushing it down flat. She pointed to the picture of a screaming woman with writing next to it. “It’s called a banshee”
Bellamy frowned, “A banshee? Like the old Irish folklore?”
Clarke nodded, “A banshee is connected with some kind of supernatural network that tells them when someone is going to die, or even when they’re dead. Do you remember when we went on that school trip and we stayed at that motel?”
Bellamy nodded, “I heard about what happened”
Clarke pointed to the picture again, “I could hear the voices of all the people who’d been killed there. I could hear all of them as they died, begging for their lives, their last words, where they were, I was attracted to the places where they died. I didn’t even realise I was going there, it just happens, I just wander over and then I realise where I am.”
Bellamy narrowed his eyes, “Then why did you need your blood?”
“I wanted to compare it to yours, to see what qualities it has. If there’s something in my DNA that makes me a Banshee, like there’s something in your DNA that makes you a werewolf, then maybe I can figure out some way to control it.” She explained, “It’s the only explanation. I know what I am!”
He pursed his lips, "Have you told Raven, or anyone, about this?" he asked carefully.
Clarke shook her head, "I told her dad it was for research. Maybe now I know what it is, I can work with it" she explained, almost smiling, “I can be normal.”
Bellamy frowned. He trusted Clarke. She was smart and she usually knew what she was talking about. But when she looked this manic and exhausted, he really didn’t know what to believe. He folded the paper, “Look, Princess, maybe you should get some sleep and-”
“You don’t believe me.” Clarke interrupted in a hurt tone.
“No, no, no of course I believe you, I trust you... but, it’s just, are you sure? Banshees are extremely rare and I’ve heard stories about what happens to some of them.” Bellamy defended.
She frowned, “Is this about Murphy? Are you still pissed off?”
He pursed his lips, his hand balling into a fist, “Let’s not talk about Murphy.” He strained.
She sighed, rubbing her eyes, “You’re right, I need sleep” she stated, standing up and brushing past him.
“Wait Clarke-” he called after her. She turned around and he scratched his neck, “Look. Go home, get some sleep, watch some TV, and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”He had a soft look in his eyes, like he almost cared.
he doesn't get it.
She pursed her lips, “Yeah, whatever”
Clarke woke up in Bellamy’s bed.
Which was pretty dodgy since she sleeps at home, on a moderately comfortable mattress, on the other side of town. She groaned, rolling onto her side and forcing her eyes open. She blinked against the lights seeping through the window and rolled onto her back. She forced her eyes open groggily and frowned. She’d seen Bellamy’s room before. It was a long room with a double bed at one end and a window to its left and a chest of drawers opposite the bed with a painting of his family on top.
Bellamy was sitting on the window ledge, staring out into the town. He seemed so mesmerised by this that he hadn’t noticed Clarke waking up. He cradled a mug of coffee in his hand that was both cold, and completely full. Clarke pushed herself up with her hands before a sharp pain ran up her wrist. She glanced down at the red tinted bandages on her arm and frowned. There was an IV line plugged into her and she yanked it of her arm, letting it drop to the floor.
The light tap was enough to make Bellamy’s neck snap around to look. He stared at her wide eyed before slamming the coffee down on the chest of drawers and jumping to his feet. “Doc” He yelled, walking over to the door and pulling it open, “She’s awake!” he called.
Heavy footsteps padded across the corridor and Clarke sat up higher, “What’s going on?” she asked and Bellamy turned to stare at her.
She noticed his eyes were red rimmed and his knuckles bloodied. Someone, whom Clarke could only describe as a doctor, walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He smiled at her, “Miss griffin, it’s nice to see you awake.” He stated, putting his black bag down on the end of the bed. “I’m just going to take your blood pressure and change your bandages and then let you get some rest.”
Once he’d changed her bandages and taken her blood pressure he turned to Bellamy, “She’s fine now, just keep an eye on her for any change in behaviour.”
Bellamy nodded, shook his hand and let him walk out. The air was thick with anger as Bellamy returned to his spot on the window sill and simply sat there with his legs slightly parted and his head in his hands.
“Bell...” Clarke started slowly, pushing off the plain white covers and slowly placing her legs on his wooden floor. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asked quietly. Her bare feet pattered against the floor as she slowly sat next to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away. She dropped her hand to her side, “Bell, what’s wrong?” she asked. He sat still for so long that eventually Clarke sighed. She stood up, taking a few steps towards the door.
“Suicide.” Bellamy muttered.
Clarke turned around, twisting on her feet, “What?” she asked carefully.
He looked up at her sadly with his fingers interlaced between his legs, “You tried to commit suicide.”
She gaped at him. Her mouth open like a fish, she stood still. She was paralyzed with fear and shock while Bellamy stared at her with eyes filled with hurt and betrayal.
“I..I-... What?” she repeated, dumbstruck.
Bellamy swallowed, his eyes watering. He jumped to his feet and stormed over to Clarke, enveloping her into a tight hug. His hand over her head and the other wrapped tightly around her waist. Clarke froze under his touch until eventually wrapping her arms around him. Her body started to shake violently as she started to sob into his shoulder.
“Why d’you do it Clarke?” he rasped, his eyes watering and his voice began to waver.
“I don’t remember” she whispered, “I don’t remember” she started to hit Bellamy as her wails started to grow, “I don’t remember”
She pushes his torso but her held onto her as her knees gave way and she collapsed into his chest. Her screams and cries got louder and higher and chokier. Bellamy carried her down to the floor as she continued to sob into his shirt.
She curled up against his chest with her legs hanging over his lap and is arms wrapped around her waist, “I thought you were dead, I thought you’d died.” He repeated over again.
“It was the voices, it was the voices.” She kept repeating.
And Clarke doesn’t remember how long they sat on the floor, sobbing into each other’s arms, but she remembers feeling safe. And not once did she hear the voices.
“A banshee?” Raven deadpanned as she stomped out of their English class with her rucksack hanging off her back. She looked at Clarke with a raised eyebrow as they began to make their way down the corridor.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Clarke defended.
“No, no, it... it actually makes sense” Raven frowned.
Clarke did a double take, “...Really?”
“Yeah.” Raven agreed casually.
“You believe me?” Clarke asked with a frown.
Raven rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her bag, “Well, don’t look so shocked” she mocked, throwing her hair over her shoulder.
Clarke shook her head, “No it’s just... Bellamy didn’t” she sighed, rubbing her eyes.
Raven waved a hand, “Bellamy’s an asshole.”
“Fair point” Clarke grinned as they turned the corner.
“Look. I know you won’t want to hear this, but the only person who really knows anything about this stuff... is Murphy.” Raven stated awkwardly slowing down as they reached her locker.
Clarke lent next to her, “No.” She stated, shaking her head.
“Clarke-” Raven sighed, swapping her books out.
“No. Bellamy still hasn’t forgiven me, he pretends like he doesn’t care but I know he’s pissed off” Clarke explained angrily as Raven slammed her locker shut.
Raven shrugged, “You did use him to resurrect his psychotic uncle from the dead”
Clarke threw her hands up, “Not on purpose!”
“Get Bellamy to go with you then. Look, just talk to him. Murphy’s the only one who can tell you what you are.” Raven stated as Clarke slowed to a halt in the middle of the corridor. She had two books clutched in her arms as she purses her lips.
“I don’t need to talk to him.” She stated, looking ahead.
“Why not?”
Clarke pointed to the black car parked outside the school with Bellamy standing outside, leaning his hip against the door. She sighed, “Because he just heard every word.” Bellamy chose that moment to wave and Clarke smacked her forehead with her hand. “You’re such a privacy invader” she muttered and he pouted. Clarke waved goodbye to Raven and tightened the hold on her shoulder bag as she scurried between the flock of students and out the entrance doors. She pushed them open, frowning slightly as she approached Bellamy.
“Could you be any more stalker-ish?”
Bellamy scoffed, “I’m not stalking you.”
She raised an eyebrow, “Come on. I saw you when I was shopping last weekend. I saw you when I was in the cinema with raven, when I was food shopping with my mom, when I visited my dad. I may be going crazy, but I’m not blind.”
Bellamy scratched the back of his neck, “I was just...keeping an eye on you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She clicked her tongue, “I can take care of myself”
He smirked, like there was a secret he knew, “I don’t doubt that”
“Then don’t follow me”
“I’m trying to keep you safe” he huffed.
“No you’re not. You’re trying to make sure I don’t have some psychotic break and kill everyone.” Clarke cried, throwing her arms up.
Bellamy stepped forward, “I’m worried” he hissed quietly, is hand wrapping around her wrist, “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Well so am I. I don’t know what the hell is happening to me, I don’t know to control it, I can’t sleep I can’t eat, all I see when I close my eyes are dead bodies. I hear voices all the time and I hear people dying, people screaming. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Bellamy stepped forward to reassure her but she stepped back. “But I know I don’t need your help, because that comes with your judgement”
Bellamy raised an eyebrow, “My judgement? You resurrected my Uncle; he tried to kill us all”
Clarke threw her hands in the air angrily, “It was an accident!”
He pointed straight at her, “You shot me thirty times!”
“No-on died!” She huffed, crossing her arms in a defensive move.
“Sterling died. Octavia nearly died. You-...”
Clarke froze. Her eyes wide. It was like she was seeing something play out right before her but she couldn’t do anything about it. Bellamy stopped talking and frowned, he snapped his fingers in front of her face. Her mouth dropped open and she stepped back.
Her bag slid of her shoulder and landed on the floor with a loud thud, her books piling out and those in her arms dropped like dead weight. The pages flew from their binds and formed into a whirlwind, with them being carried into the air. Her chest started heaving, her breaths coming out in pants.
Bellamy stepped forward, frowning, “Princess, are you-”
She cut him off with a bloodcurdling scream that made him flinch and made his eyes widen with panic. He stepped forward, to hold her up while her voice strangled into a screech. Bellamy doesn’t remember a time where he’d been any more terrified than when he watched this beautiful woman crumble to pieces before him.
She slowly slid to the floor her nails digging into Bellamy’s arm as he followed her down. Her chest was heaving and she was gasping for breaths.
“What’s going on, what’s wrong?”
She started to sob, her finger clutching desperately at the fabric of Bellamy’s shirt, “Finn.”