things better left unsaid (you don't make it easy)
Continuation of this ficlet. Canon compliant through 505, so Becho is a thing, though this is Clarke/Bellarke focused. {read on ao3 here}
Murphy was the first one to break the silence over dinner.
“So, Octavia still your favorite?” he asked, pushing some of his fruit onto Madi’s plate.
“It’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking,” Madi deadpanned.
Murphy seemed genuinely delighted by her answer, his eyes alight with mock disbelief flickering across the fire to meet Clarke’s.
Clarke just shook her head and laughed. She’d given up trying to interfere with their conversations. The girl could hold her own against him, anyway.
“Alright, if it’s not Octavia anymore, who is it?”
Madi shrugged and flicked her braids over her shoulder. “Probably Emori. Or Echo.”
They all chuckled, and Echo patted Murphy’s head patronizingly. “You couldn't have really thought it was going to be you, Murphy.”
“John lost his grasp on reality sometime around year three in space,” Emori said, not without humor, and threw a fish bone into the fire.
“Well, that’s not fair,” Murphy complained, slouching against Emori’s leg. “I thought we were all supposed to be one clan now, or whatever. You’re just prejudiced.”
Madi giggled, but Clarke saw Bellamy and Echo exchange a grave look at the allusion to his sister.
They wasn't getting any easier, these moments of supposed peace. Tomorrow, the mission to extract her mom, Raven, and Kane would commence. As far as Clarke was concerned, tomorrow could not come soon enough.
She rose from her seat near the fire and checked the weapon at her hip. “I’m going to relieve Harper. I’ll tell her you have a plate for her, Monty.”
Monty nodded at her, and she knew she wasn’t fooling him, but she hoped her detached demeanor was enough to convince the others.
Murphy was clearly on the verge of saying something awkward, but thankfully Echo distracted him with a question about cooking techniques, allowing Clarke to slip away in peace after reminding Madi of her bedtime.
She’d just sent Harper back to camp when she heard someone heading towards her from that direction.
It was Bellamy.
She’d rather it had been McCreary.
“Can we talk?”
She let the question linger there as long as she could.
“I’m supposed to be on watch,” she replied finally, eyes fixed anywhere but his face.
“We’ve got the trip wires set up,” he coaxed. “You can take a minute.”
“Eyes sharp, weapons hot,” said Clarke in a savage tone, and instantly regretted it.
Bellamy flushed, and laughed awkwardly. “I guess I’m not really used to being back on the ground yet. Things are…different.”
They certainly were.
“If you want to rethink the plan, we really should include Echo and the others.”
He frowned. “No, that’s not it. Actually, it was Echo who wanted me to talk to you.”
That hurt.
“I don’t understand.”
“Are we alright? Things between us?”
Well, you didn't mention the fact you had a girlfriend while we were sharing a tent for a week, so thank god I never got up the courage to tell you I radioed you every day for six years, but other than that—
“Sure.”
Bellamy grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. Clarke stared into the night and tried to ignore the fact that she was still keyed into his every move.
“Clarke, honestly…it doesn't seem like they are.”
“Why would I lie?” she asked pointedly, finally making eye contact.
He shook his head and half turned away from her, distress lining his face. “I don’t know…I don’t know what to say. So many things, yet none of them good enough. I’m sorry.”
Clarke immediately softened. “Stop. That’s not…I’m sorry.” She sighed. “You can tell Echo I’m fine, she doesn't need to worry.”
Bellamy nodded, but remained rooted there, staring out into the darkness alongside her.
When he spoke again, his tone was low and laced with emotion. “She’s not the only one who’s worried, you know.”
Clarke’s chest seized with tension, and she clenched her fists so tight she was sure she’d draw blood. She’d prevent herself from saying anything else she regretted, no matter the cost.
“Worrying isn't going to do anyone any good,” she said, forcing her voice to remain even. “Which is why you should go get some rest. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
Bellamy swallowed, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as he wavered by her side.
“I’m fine, Bellamy. Really. I just need more time alone than I used to, alright?”
He nodded again, eyes still full of concern, and she was sure there were things unsaid on his part as well, things that might never be said now.
“You’re alright?”
“I’m alright,” she lied.
“I’m not going anywhere, you know. None of us are. We’ll get through this together.”
“I’m trying to believe that,” she said, and she was stunned at how much she wished it were true. She hadn't admitted how worried she’d been yet, not out loud, not even to herself.
In that moment, she wanted nothing more than for him to wrap her up in his arms, and she hated herself for it.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to convince herself of it more than him.
“If you ever need to talk—“
“I hear Murphy’s great at processing emotions these days,” Clarke quipped.
Bellamy chuckled, and for one brief moment it felt like old times again.
“Get some rest,” Clarke repeated, more gently this time.
“I’ll relieve you in a few hours.”
And with that, she was alone again, a single sentence ringing in her ears over and over, though she didn't know why.
I wish you would write a fic about Bellarke reminiscing about the dropship days. Who knew that those would be "the simpler times?"
this is probably not what you were looking for at all, whoops… {ao3}
Echo squeezed his hand once more and was gone. Bellamy blinked back his tears, and the realization she was right finally began to set in.
They’d argued (gently), and fucked (less gentle), and cried, and she’d ended it almost before he knew what she was saying. They were on different journeys now, the two of them, and he was lying to himself if he thought they’d have made it much farther together.
She’s put him first, so he wouldn’t have to.
His thoughts could turn to Octavia now. His little sister, now vanished and replaced by a dead eyed tyrant crowned with blood.
If he’d known six years ago what he knew now, what happiness would he have managed to find on the ring?
He closed his eyes and he could still hear the joy in his sister’s laugh the first time they’d set foot on the ground, still see the wonder in her face the first time she’d crossed the threshold of her cell, still feel the grip of her tiny hand curling round his finger the first time he’d held her in his arms.
How had she come to this? Where could he go from here?
Bellamy looked up.
His eyes met Clarke’s, and he froze.
—
Clarke glanced away.
She didn’t have a minute to waste, and yet every time she saw them together she was incapable of breathing, of moving, of thinking about anything else. How the fuck was that fair?
Whatever had happened between Bellamy and anyone else shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t his, he wasn’t hers. Whatever they had been to each other hadn’t survived Praimfaya.
She saw flashes in her mind: the makeshift shelters of the dropship camp, the gates of Arkadia, the florescent lit halls of Mt Weather, the beach by the sea….then, pushing back on her conscious thoughts, the memory of Bellamy’s hand in hers, his arms round her, his face buried in her hair–gone, all of it. Dust and ash and darkness.
She gripped Madi’s shoulders (real, solid) and moved toward him. It would hurt less the more distance she put between them. It had to.
As long as he was alive (she prayed for that, she prayed), nothing could hurt more than this.
Missing scene: Clarke and Bellamy walking together with Wonkru from Polis to the night-time rest stop.
Canon compliant through 505. Obligatory reminder that Becho is still a thing and that’s featured here. {Read on ao3}
The road ahead was long and treacherous, and the ruins they’d left behind made him wonder if they’d ever manage to rebuild what had been lost.
Clarke kept in step beside him, her steely gaze fixed on the horizon. He wondered, for the hundredth time, how.
Six years ago, she’d set out from the ruins of Polis with nothing but meager rations and her will to live. She’d had the rover, of course, and in retrospect that put his heart at ease. But she’d confessed (briefly, characteristic of all their conversations now) she’d had to leave it at one point and set out on foot, and the thought of her making her way alone and unprotected from the elements in such a desolate world made his heart ache for her.
He was so in awe of her, now more than ever. She bore scars he didn’t recognize, and there was something immovable behind her eyes he didn’t know what to call. Her trial by fire had laid bare her true self, her innate resolve, the pure strength and beauty of her soul. Of one thing he was sure: she was still the same Clarke he’d loved and lost, and at the same time she wasn’t, not at all.
He tried to stop stealing glances at her, but he just couldn’t. It had only been a few days, not nearly enough time to think he wouldn’t just awake from this strange dream and find himself back on the ring, Echo asleep beside him.
But this was unlike the dreams that had tormented him there. The sun never set in those dreams without engulfing the entire world in flames, and now he was watching it slowly sink behind the sand in the distance, the light gently extinguished as the cool dark of night crept forward.
They’d have to make camp for the night soon. He glanced round him and realized just how unfamiliar he found his other companions. Even those he’d known well, like Miller, were changed. They were harder, more guarded, like they were holding onto some dark secret. If he had a choice, he’d rather not find out what. There was some unrest there that gnawed at him, that refused to let him feel at ease.
Then his eyes met Clarke’s and he instantly relaxed. Despite everything, they still understood each other, still trusted each other. He ached to talk with her at length about everything—about how she’d spent her days, what she’d learned and built, about Madi and about their life together— but he didn’t know how to begin, or if they’d ever have the time. He prayed they would.
“Thirsty?”
Bellamy blinked and refocused. Clarke was holding her canteen out for him, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips.
“Thanks.”
His fingers brushed hers as he accepted it. By the time he’d taken a draught, she was scanning the horizon again, concern creasing her brow.
“You worried about sandstorms, or our miner friends?”
Clarke snorted. “Both. Aren’t you?”
“You know I am,” he sighed, and then smiled as he pressed the canteen back into her hand. “At least Earth is just as exciting as I left it.”
Clarke ducked her head, but he could see her smiling fully now, and it made the hope bloom in his chest, if for just a moment. That, if nothing else, was exactly as he remembered.
right back where we started (this time is different)
Just a little angst for a Friday morning. Canon compliant through 505. Becho is a thing here obviously and even though I'm ride or die Bellarke I dig it so please keep that in mind <3 {read on ao3 here}
Clarke paused in the entrance of her tent (their tent), using the time it took for her eyes to adjust to refocus her mind as well.
She felt a bit frantic already without Madi by her side, but reminded herself that she was safe with Harper in the rover. How good it felt to have some help, finally, after all these years. She knew Harper had seen the relief in her face when they hugged. She hoped that was all. But now…they needed to hurry.
“You need to leave,” Indra had said in a low voice, when Clarke had returned to her side to check her breathing, still in shock. “You’re not safe here, none of you are.”
Clarke nodded, worrying her lower lip as she took Indra’s pulse.
“None of you,” Indra repeated, glancing over to where Octavia was sitting, still clutching her wound and seething with rage.
Bellamy had tried to reason with her (how many times?), but she wouldn't hear him. She’d banished Echo again, and Bellamy with her. Clarke had tried to talk her down too, but there was no way out of this one. They were setting out on their own, before Octavia proscribed them a worse fate, and Clarke and Madi with them. She wasn't thinking clearly, or she would have demanded Clarke stay, but before long she was likely to change her mind.
“Clarke?”
Clarke turned, and saw Monty wavering in the doorway.
“You ready to go? We’re all getting a little anxious here…”
“Understatement of the year,” Clarke said dryly, pulling her pack over her shoulders and tightening the straps. “I’m ready.”
As she spoke, she glanced over to Bellamy’s cot and saw that he’d left his radio there.
Monty’s eyes followed hers. Clarke moved swiftly to pick it up, and handed it to him.
“I imagine we’ll need this.”
Monty nodded, a strained expression on his face.
“He didn't tell you, did he?”
“Tell me what?” Clarke asked, tone almost defiant as she faced him down.
“About Echo. He didn't tell you.”
“It didn't come up,” Clarke replied, hoping her voice didn't sound as hollow to Monty as it did to her. “We’ve been dealing with one crisis after another for days. And now—we need to get out of here, go find the others, and rescue my mom and Raven and Kane before what’s left of this world gets torn apart.”
Monty frowned. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Not if we’re just standing here, we won’t,” Clarke said brusquely, attempting to push past him.
“Hey, it’s going to be ok, Clarke,” Monty said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
Tears stung at her eyes despite her best efforts. Even after all the reunions of the past week, it was so strange to be touched like that again, so casually.
“You don't know that, Monty. We’re right back where we started six years ago, at war, but this time—“
This time their enemies were the ones with superior tech. This time the religious cult throwing a wrench in the works was led by Octavia. This time she had a child to protect. This time…this time was different.
“Let’s get out of here before our good luck runs out,” Clarke said, ducking through the flap of the tent.
Monty followed her in silence to the rover. Clarke’s eyes met Miller’s as they passed him, where he sat next to Indra, and the barely perceptible nod he gave her was enough to ensure her he’d do his best. That was all she could ask. She’d done what she could, now she had to protect Madi. Indra had seen the way Madi had run to her. She understood.
Bellamy was waiting outside the rover, in the shadows and out of Octavia’s view. Monty hopped in the back seat next to Echo. Clarke saw Harper in the front seat with Madi, and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized they were going to let her drive. She knew they way best, of course, but she could use the distraction. If Bellamy would just let her pass…
She tossed her pack through the window, smiling at Madi, and steeled herself as she met Bellamy’s eyes.
“Shall we?”
“Clarke…”
“We don't have time for this now, Bellamy.”
“Clarke, I'm sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I was naive to think this wouldn't put all of us in danger. Octavia—“
“We don’t have time for this,” she repeated, reaching for the door.
“I hoped she’d forgive her after all this time.”
Hope. That word from his lips stung, somehow.
“We don't need hope,” she said, opening the rover door. “We need a plan. We’ll think of one on the way. Come on.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he nodded and hopped into the rover beside Echo. Clarke could see the nervousness in Echo’s eyes. She gave Echo a small smile in the rearview mirror, which seemed to relax her, though Clarke could feel the unrest writhing in her own chest.
She glanced over at Madi, who looked up at her with wide eyes.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Clarke’s gaze flickered back to the rearview mirror, to Bellamy. His eyes were downcast and his brow furrowed. He was a downtrodden as she’d ever seen him, and her heart broke for the second time that day.
She had to focus.
“I don’t know. We’ll decide on the way.”
Wonkru’s camp was behind them and Diyoza’s army ahead. Clarke shifted the rover into gear, and thanked her lucky stars that Monty and Echo were already busy developing a strategy to extract their friends. She’d jump in before too long, but for now she just focused on the road ahead.
