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What was supposed to be a short drive back to their settlement, was the longest of Clarke’s life. Her eyes stayed fixated on whatever greenery she could see out the window, and she didn’t dare let them wander to the man beside her. She hated when Bellamy was angry with her, even though she knew he had every right to be. She felt the growing need to say something, anything, and despite knowing he didn’t want to hear it right now, especially from her, the words came out anyway, hesitant, yet firm at the same time.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Bellamy.”
She could see his grip tighten on the steering wheel, and for a moment, she wondered if she had made a mistake by opening her mouth at all.
“If this is your way of apologizing, stop,” he replied. She could tell by the crease in his brow that he was trying desperately to stay level-headed. She should let it go, but she couldn’t stand it. She needed him to know how sorry she was.
“Bellamy--“
“You tried to kill my sister, Clarke!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
He didn’t reply. He simply averted his amber eyes from her and focused on the empty road. She got the message and looked back out her own window.
They had been at war against the Grounders since they day they landed. They never expected Octavia to switch sides so quickly, but it just ended up that way. She fell in love. And apparently, she was willing to do anything for Lincoln. Just like Clarke was willing to do anything for her people. And if Octavia got in the way of that, she told herself she’d do what needed to be done.
But she wasn’t strong enough. She couldn’t do it. And now the only result was Bellamy’s anger at her, and a failed mission.
“Hey, guys, what is that?” Harper asked from her spot in the backseat beside Monty, trying to ignore the tension in the front.
Clarke squinted to try and figure out what they were quickly approaching, but before she could, the rover came to a jarring halt, and everything went black.
…
Bellamy groaned as his eyes fluttered open, ignoring the searing pain in his head. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed a flash of blonde against the grass to his left.
Clarke.
He tried to shake off the disorientation he was feeling as he crawled over to her, pushing her matted hair out of her face. Her eyes were shut, and the back of her head was bleeding. A lot.
He cursed under his breath as he took in the extent of her injuries. He had no medical knowledge whatsoever, but it wasn’t looking good.
“Clarke? Clarke, wake up,” he coaxed her, shaking her gently, but trying not to jostle her too much. He didn’t want to hurt her even more.
The panic started to set in when she didn’t respond to him whatsoever.
“Clarke! Please, wake up,” he called, a little louder this time. “I forgive you, okay? You’re forgiven. Just please wake up.”
He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not when she thought he hated her.
“Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.
Finally, he let out a breath of relief when her eyes blinked open. She was okay. She was looking at him, her eyes vibrantly blue as ever. Alive.
“Bellamy?” She whispered hoarsely.
He nodded, is hands on her feather-light, as if he was afraid that she would break.
“What-what happened?” She asked, looking around the clearing. “Where’s Monty and Harper? And the rover?”
“I… I don’t know,” he said, following her gaze. “They wouldn’t have left us here.”
Her eyes darted back up to him. “What do we do?”
That was a fantastic question. He considered their options. They had no food, no water, and no weapons on them. If they stayed here, one of their people might find them, but they would also be sitting ducks.
“We need to move,” he decided, getting up off the ground, offering her a hand. “Can you walk?”
“I… I think so,” she said, taking his hand, allowing him to help pull her up off the ground. As soon as she was on her feet, she stumbled a bit, and his arms instinctively reached out to keep her steady.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Just got a little dizzy.”
“That can’t be good, with your head.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding.”
“Let’s just keep walking. We might find something to help.”
He crossed his arms and kept his narrowed eyes fixed on her. She was too stubborn for her own good. He knew he wasn’t going to win this argument.
“Fine,” he allowed. “But if you get dizzy, or need to take a break—”
“I got it, Bellamy,” she assured him. “I’m fine.”
Without allowing him to get another word in, she walked off in front of him, clearly done with this conversation. She wasn’t fine. He knew that, and she knew that, but getting Clarke Griffin to show any signs of weakness was a challenging task. One he didn’t have time for right now. So, he just shook his head with a sigh and followed her.
After a few hours, luck was on their side, because they found a small bunker, which had limited, but some useful supplies. There were weapons, ammunition, rations. And even a first-aid kit so Bellamy could insist to take care of Clarke’s head injury.
She eventually agreed because Bellamy could also be stubborn when he wanted to be.
They spent the night there, content to have a safe place to stay, and somewhere to get some rest for what was going to be a long day tomorrow, walking in the same direction until they find anything to help them get home.
…
Clarke didn’t know how long she’d been walking side-by-side with Bellamy, but given how her feet were aching, her stomach rumbled with hunger, and the sun was setting, she knew it was a damn long time. But the fact that they didn’t even know where they were walking to didn’t help matters.
“Hungry?” Bellamy asked, as if reading her mind. He did that eerily often.
“A little,” Clarke replied, nonchalant. As if in protest, her stomach grumbled angrily once more, and Bellamy chuckled.
“Just a little?” Bellamy’s tone was playful, and Clarke was sure if she were to look at him, she’d see his signature smirk gracing his lips.
“Okay, maybe a lot,” Clarke admitted, cheeks slightly flushed.
Bellamy had been acting different, she thought, ever since they started their little trek. They’d been making small talk, learning new things about each other, and laughing. Laughing. It wasn’t a side of him she got to see very often, and she liked it. She liked getting to talk to Bellamy. The real one. Not the ruthless co-leader of their people, but the actual man inside. The one that, once you got past the cold exterior and the “I only care about my sister and no one else” facade, was actually really sweet.
“We can take a break if you want,” he offered. “Looks like there’s a clearing at the top of the hill if you want to rest for a bit.”
“Sounds good,” Clarke said, sounding a lot more relieved than she meant to.
They continued to make their way up the hill and stopped at the top. Bellamy instantly leaned against a nearby tree and sunk to the ground. He was tired too, and probably hungry.
Clarke was carrying the rations they found in the bunker, and she placed the bag on the grass, sifting through it. The food didn’t exactly look appetizing, but it’s all they had at the moment. Clarke grabbed two and extended her hand to Bellamy, but he shook his head.
“No, I’m fine.”
She frowned at him. “Bellamy, you haven’t eaten all day. There’s enough here to last us a while.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said, shrugging. She sighed in response, but let it go. She obviously knew he was lying, and she suspected it had something to do with leaving enough for her, even though there was enough for both to last at least a week. But Bellamy Blake liked to play hero, always putting everyone else before himself.
“If you’re not going to eat, at least drink some water,” Clarke bargained, nudging her head towards his pack discarded on the grass beside him.
“Fine,” he said, reaching to grab the canteen and holding out to her. “But you drink first.”
Clarke stared at him blankly, dumbfounded at his stubbornness over a freaking drink of water. But, if it was the only way to get him to drink, she took the canteen anyway and took a small sip. The food may last them a while, but the water would only last a few days, so they needed to find more soon. Which would be a feat, considering they had no idea where they were or where they could find drinkable water. Clarke pushed the thought down as she handed the canteen back to Bellamy.
It was only after Bellamy took a sip that she began to eat her ration. They stayed silent as she did so, and she felt weird eating while he sat there with nothing. When she got down to one bite left, she decided to try one more time, holding out her hand.
“Clarke-”
“Eat, Bellamy,” Clarke urged him. “Please.”
“It’s okay, Clarke,” Bellamy argued. God, sometimes he made her want to scream.
“I wasn’t asking,” Clarke said. “I know you’re hungry. One bite won’t kill you.”
He frowned, reluctantly taking the tiny piece from her hand without a word. She refused to look away from him until she was sure he ate it.
However, she was easily distracted by a glimpse of red in the background. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, she stood up from her spot on the grass and walked toward it.
“Where are you going?” Bellamy asked.
Clarke didn’t reply, quietly observing the newly found berries, so Bellamy walked over to her side instead.
“Raspberries,” Clarke said with a grin, picking a few from the leaves and dropping a couple into Bellamy’s hand.
“Not bad,” he mused, popping one into his mouth. “Better than the rations.”
She hummed in agreement, picking a few more. “Come on,” she said. “Collect as many as you can.”
Clarke briefly left him to grab their packs, placing them on the ground beside them as they continued to gather the raspberries. As she moved around the bush, she noticed Bellamy eating more of them than he was collecting.
“Stop eating them,” Clarke scolded, playfully swatting at his hand. “We’re supposed to be saving them for later.”
“What, now you don’t want me to eat?” Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “God, you’re indecisive.”
She scoffed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Clarke distantly heard his reply, but something distracted her. She stopped picking the berries and looked into the distance. Across the clearing, there was a giant patch of flowers. Swirls of white, purple, blue, yellow as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking.
“Clarke?” Bellamy looked up from the bush at Clarke and furrowed his brow in confusion at her lack of reply. Instead, he walked over to stand beside her, finally seeing what she was seeing.
“Wow,” he murmured.
“It’s beautiful,” she said with a giddy smile.
He kept his gaze on her and agreed, “It is.”
A field of beautiful wildflowers in front of them, and Bellamy was staring at Clarke.
Bellamy doubled back to grab their bags and walked in front of her. “Let’s go take a closer look.”
Clarke speed-walked to catch up to him.
…
Bellamy watched as Clarke delicately ghosted her hand along the wildflowers, admiring the look of absolute awe on her face, as if she’s never seen anything so beautiful.
He finally tore his eyes away, careful not to stare, and focused on a specifically vibrant blue flower.
Just like her eyes. He couldn’t stop the thought from coming if he tried. When did he become so obsessed with her anyway?
Obsessed? No. He didn’t like that word. Infatuated? Attracted? In love? Maybe all of the above.
Either way, it didn’t matter. He could never allow himself to really love her. Even if he already did. Because he knew she wasn’t ready for that. Not after Finn and Lexa. Yet, despite his head telling him otherwise, he couldn’t stop himself from carefully plucking the flower from its stem and walking over to her.
He gave her a half-smile and extended his hand, presenting the flower to her.
At first, she looked almost surprised, but then her cheeks flushed, and she grabbed the flower from his hand, whispering a barely audible thank you.
She attempted to stick it in her hair, but it kept falling out into her hand, and he had the terrible urge to help her. But of course, that would mean he’d have to touch her face.
Don’t do it. Don’t fucking do it.
...Fuck it.
He reached out his hand to take the brightly colored flower from her palm, and gently brushed her bright blonde curls back, tucking it behind her ear. He could hear her breath hitch as he delicately placed the flower in her hair, letting his hand linger in her hair.
Clarke’s eyes remained focused on his, and for once in his life, he couldn’t quite read her as per usual. He was right, he thought. The flower brought out her ocean blue eyes perfectly.
Then, he realized he let his hand linger a little too long, and he hesitantly pulled away, awkwardly clearing his throat, averting her gaze. Clarke did the same, snapping out of her daze, and if she wasn’t blushing then, she definitely was now.
She laughed a little as she took a seat near the huge flowerbed, absentmindedly toying with the petals.
“What’s so funny?” He sounded less nervous than he was earlier as he sat across from her.
“It’s not funny. It’s just...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Earth is pretty awesome, isn’t it?”
“I mean, aside from all the wars, blood, and death, yeah, it can be pretty cool.” His tone was light, but there was a heavy undertone to his words. He was tired. She knew that. They both were.
“Is it bad that I’d rather fight for all this than live a peaceful life in space?” Clarke asked.
“No, not really,” Bellamy replied, furrowing his brow. “As much as we try to avoid war, sometimes it’s good to know there’s still something left to fight for.” Bellamy brightened up a bit as he said, “And besides, if none of this happened, I never would’ve met you.”
Clarke gave him a half-smile, and she curiously asked, “Do you think we could’ve been friends back on the Ark if we had met?”
“I’d like to say yes, but I don’t think so,” Bellamy replied with a sigh. “I didn’t even like you until we were forced to work together. Even if we met up there, I wouldn’t have wanted to know you. I resented the richer people under there, since I never had what you had.”
“I don’t blame you,” Clarke said quietly, looking up at the sky. “My mom tried to keep me away from the lesser fortunate areas. I guess she didn’t want me to see how bad it was. The first time I was down there, I wanted to help. I talked to my parents, but they weren’t having any of it. They kept saying there was nothing I could do about it, and I should just forget about it.”
“Something tells me you didn’t.” Bellamy smirked, knowing damn well Clarke Griffin takes orders from no one.
“Every once in a while, I would hand out some fruit to the kids or donate money to small businesses. A few times I went through my closet and gave some of my nicer stuff to the tailor’s there instead of the richer ones.” Clarke shrugged. “It wasn’t much, but-”
“It’s more than anyone else ever did,” Bellamy said softly.
They sat in silence for a couple seconds before Clarke said, “I wish my dad could’ve seen this. Earth.”
“It’s certainly a sight,” he murmured, his gaze drifting over the field of flowers.
They were both silent for a moment, but then Clarke asked, “What about you? Anyone up there that never got to see all this?”
“Well, my mom, of course,” Bellamy replied. “Though, I’m kind of happy she never had to deal with war. She went through enough pain for Octavia and I...” he trailed off and shook his head. “I didn’t have many friends. I spent most of my time looking out for O. But there was one person.”
Clarke tilted her head, prompting him to continue.
“She was the only other person up there I knew I could talk to,” Bellamy explained. “I loved her, and I never told her before she...” he swallowed, unable to finish the sentence. Clarke gently placed her hand over his, giving him the strength to continue. “Her name was Isobel. I don’t talk about her often. Not even Octavia knew about her...”
Clarke furrowed her brow, then felt slightly honored that he would share something like this with her. Something he hadn’t even told his sister. She squeezed his hand and asked, “You okay?”
He squeezed back and gently brushed his thumb over her knuckles, eyes glued to where their hands were entwined. “Yeah,” he said, giving her a sad smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Do you think she felt the same way?” Clarke asked thoughtfully.
Bellamy tilted his head, considering it. “I’d like to think so.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?”
He hesitated, looking back down at their entwined hands. “Feelings scare the hell out of me.”
She hummed in agreement at that. “I know what you mean,” she said. “It feels like everyone I love’s just going to die in the end, so what’s the point?”
“It’s not always the ending that matters,” Bellamy replied, tearing his eyes away from their hands to look her in the eyes. “We’ve been fighting for so long, I think sometimes I forget to take a breath and appreciate the little things,” he looked around at their surroundings, and his eyes landed on a perfect white daisy. “Like this daisy.”
Clarke raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”
“Did you know,” Bellamy said, spinning the flower in between his thumb and forefinger. “That this flower, can determine whether the object of your affections feels the same way? All through a simple pattern.”
“A pattern?” Clarke asked, interest piqued.
Bellamy plucked one of the tiny white petals. “She loves me...” Another one. “She loves me not.”
Clarke’s laugh was music to his ears. “Didn’t know you were into French games from the 1800’s.”
Bellamy didn’t reply but just continued to pluck the petals off the flower, repeating the phrase. Clarke shook her head in amusement as he continued, her eyes drifting away from him and back to the flowerbed. The pattern rung through her head. She loves me, she loves me not.
Until she noticed another one. Rows. White, Blue, Yellow, Purple. White, Blue, Yellow, Purple. Standing up from her spot on the ground, she examined the flowerbed, narrowing her eyes.
“Bellamy-”
“Hold on, I’m almost done,” he said, continuing his game. “She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she-.”
“Bellamy, I’m serious,” Clarke insisted. “Look at this.”
Bellamy hesitated at her serious tone, then stood up, flower still in hand, with only two tiny petals left.
He followed her gaze to the flowerbed and furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”
“Look,” she said, pointing. “It’s a pattern. White, Blue, Yellow, Purple. They’re in rows. That can’t be natural.”
“Are you saying someone planted these?” Bellamy asked.
“We have to get out of here,” Clarke said, quickly gathering her bag. Bellamy picked up his, looking down at the flower in his hand.
“She loves me not,” he murmured, plucking the second last petal. One more left.
Clarke turned back around expectantly. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” he called back. Just as he was about to drop the flower onto the grass below, she stood in front of him, her eyes softened.
Her gaze didn’t waver from his as she picked the final petal.
She loves me.
He watched her turn around and walk away, standing there like an idiot. He didn’t dare read too much into that, but...
He looked back down at the flower, and a small smirk graced his lips as he tossed it to the side and jogged to catch up to Clarke.
She loves me.