#t100oneshot
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Downtime
Series: The 100 Rating: T Pair: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin (set directly after the Season 3 finale) Words: 3720
A year old fluffy fanfic, and one of my first for this ship! Just putting it out there to sort my tags.
[Also on Ao3]
Clarke hardly had the time to breathe after she was yanked back into the real world. Figures of her people coiling in pain blurred into her vision- hands that were too warm, covered in blood, clutched her arms, hoisted her out of the throne- The IV ripped from her veins. She had been delirious- her head throbbed painfully as if she’d taken a hit with a hammer to her skull.
But then she’d remembered the flame- Lexa was once again in her palm, and she clutched it to her chest, right above her heart. Clarke had the chance to see her one more time; before she’d been taken away all over again. Though it didn’t matter, not anymore. Because Lexa will always be with her, along with other past commanders, watching over her, so as long as the flame was with the right person.
Clarke traced the ridges of the small chip with her thumb- mulling over Luna’s refusal to become the next commander- Ontari’s abrupt death, ALIE’s warning of Earth’s imminent Armageddon, and the chaos that they’d nearly succumb too.
Six months, the AI had warned her. In six months the earth would no longer be inhabitable- There would be another radioactive fallout due to melting nuclear reactors in the remaining power plants around the earth. What would happen to her people than? What would become of the grounders?
This wasn’t an enemy she was used too handling- one that could be fought- or reasoned with, or even killed. This was nature- and machines, and chemicals. This was earth.
Clarke wasn’t a prophet- she couldn’t tell time, she couldn’t see into the near future and watch the destruction happen beforehand, just so she could warn everyone before it wiped them all out. She was at a plight, and it was gradually taking its toll on her nerves.
Time was most definitely not on her side. Six months, Clarke sighed exasperatedly, sliding down onto floor beside the bed that once belonged to the commander. It’d been stripped bare of the bloodied sheets and cushions- but Clarke still refused to bask in its comfort.
Rolling the flame in her hand, she let her head hit the side of the mattress, bringing her gaze up to the bumpy ceiling. Clarke felt a familiar presence at the door of the commander’s chambers- but didn’t bother to move from her spot on the floor. The door was shut with an audible click, and just as soon as he leaned his gun carefully against the wall- he dropped down to sit beside her, his long legs bumping against her own.
His voice came, deep and worn from battle cries. “What are you thinking about?”
Bellamy rested his arms on his knees, similar to Clarke, he didn’t look at her right away, but he didn’t have too. Clarke could see the grime caked on his face in her periphery- his shaggy hair looking more disheveled than ever. The Arkadia jacket he donned before was now missing- and the faint scars on his arms were more visible in the gray light of the afternoon.
She shrugged offishly, “Of solutions?” Clarke sighed, running a black stained hand down her face, “I don’t know—I just—I saved the world only too—just to come back to square one.”
She dropped her hand with a huff, looking over to Bellamy, only to find he was already staring at her in that intense way of his, meaning he was listening, hanging on every word she said.
Clarke felt panic swell within her- the adrenaline momentarily causing a shortness of breath, “It was all for nothing.” She whispered, more to herself than to him. Immediately Bellamy’s eyes flared the way they do whenever Clarke or Octavia- or anyone of the Skaikru found themselves in grave danger- and selfless Bellamy was there to stop it.
“Don’t.” He placed a heavy hand on her knee, and Clarke noticed the dirt encrusted between his finger nails. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, and she brought her gaze to meet his own again- “You rescued everyone from a goddamn AI that tried to force us into a fake reality.” Bellamy shook his head, wisps of curls swaying with the movement.
“That’s something, if you ask me.”
Clarke turned away with a grimace, “The earth is dying, Bellamy.”
He scoffed, “It’s been dead for years, what else is new?”
She couldn’t argue with him there, but even so that very notion that the inevitable end was creeping up on them and she didn’t have an already prepared plan drove her to a maddening state. Clarke had always been the one with the plan- since day one. But now she was at loss of what to do. This problem was far bigger than her- bigger than anything.
Thinking back to what ALIE and Becca had told her in the City of light- she could only salvage what little information the AI provided. It wasn’t enough- she needed to go to the main root. She needed to dig deeper- think harder, solve faster. Millions of lives were at stake here. Their only home was at stake.
“I can’t stop now,” Clarke mumbled, and looked him in the eye trying to hide behind a façade of false determination but she’s so damn tired- and he could see right through her anyway.
“I know that I’ve got to think of—something, anything. It’s eating away at me. I haven’t told anyone else about it. I mean, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
The hand on her knee disappeared, and Clarke missed the warmth he’d been emitting onto her, instead Bellamy shuffled closer, till her shoulder brushed against his bicep. His proximity made her just little bit anxious- she could see the purplish hue under his brown eyes, and the cuts on his forehead, the nasty finger- shaped bruises blooming across his throat.
She swallowed, looked away- but his hand came back to rest just below her knee, and it was even warmer this time.
“Hey,” Bellamy breathed- his breath hot against her cheek. “right now, everyone is still recovering from the aftereffects of ALIE, telling them now would only cause more tension.”
Clarke said nothing- biting into the bottom plush of her lip, nervous. Bellamy sighed. “Look, Don’t worry, when the time comes to tell them—I’ll be there, for you, okay? They’ll understand. They’ll help.”
His hand squeezed her thigh than, and Clarke felt a feathery sort of thrill in her chest.
“We’ll figure something out, we always do.”
She smiled at him, though it wasn’t quite happy one. It was a for-the-moment smile. An only-for-Bellamy kind of smile, but his condoling efforts wasn’t all lost on her. She clung tight to his words- her words. She kept them close, and kept him closer.
“Yeah.”
Then without thinking- which was nearly impossible because Clarke was always thinking- she reached up, and brushed away some of the dark colored fringes that clung to his forehead- hearing a hitch in his breath while she did. Bellamy’s hair was wild and untamed- sticking in every direction. Clarke caressed the curls that stuck out the side of his head, threading her hand through it delicately and watching the waves bounce back into place.
It’s only when she heard Bellamy audibly clear his throat, and see his eyes sheepishly avert hers- that she yanked her hand away like it’d been scalded.
She stammered, a rosy hue staining her cheeks. “Sorry—I, sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
Oh god. Had she crossed the line there? Had there been a line to cross in the first place? It’s just Bellamy, Clarke reassured, there shouldn’t be any awkwardness between them just from a simple affectionate touch.
Besides it wouldn’t be the first time she’d shown some affection for him- though it would be a first she acted on a whim, rather than with her head, or with her heart.
It shouldn’t bother her this much- it should be natural by now.
Bellamy’s low rumble of her name snapped her out of reverie, and she swiveled to look at his confused face, mouth hanging open- she quickly thought of a response for her actions.
“It’s just…your hair.”
“What about it?”
Clarke shrugged, “It’s really… soft?”
There was a long pause before Bellamy let out rough chuckle, mouth tilting in that sideways grin of his.
“Seriously,” He thumbed one of his curls that stuck out, “I haven’t washed it in days.”
Clarke hummed in agreement, smoothing out the frayed ends of her blonde hair, “Hey, same here.”
“I said days, you haven’t washed your hair in months.”
Clarke scoffed, shoving at his shoulder playfully. “You don’t know that.”
He laughed heartily (a rare pleasant sound that certainly did not make her heart back flip), lifting the hand on her thigh to twirl a tendril of her straw blonde hair around his finger. “Clarke, I can see it.”
A teasing smirk played at the edges of his lips- and even with all his imperfections, all his compact flaws, his heavy burdens, and the shameful guilt he carried with him; Clarke would always see him as the most radiant of their people. The Sky people’s own burning flame, and he would always burn the brightest, in her eyes.
She felt an overwhelming urge to comfort him; to touch and hold him. He’s done so much for her- for them, though more so for her.
She grasped onto his large hand with her own before it slipped away from her golden tangles of hair- he snapped his head to peer down at her, the mirth vanishing from his face, replaced by puzzling expression.
“Clarke?”
She licked the dryness from her lips before speaking- resting their intertwined hands between them, she turned to him, “Why don’t you come here?”
Bellamy raised an eyebrow in question- dropping his gaze to where her hand lay atop his, implying he was already right there with her.
Clarke shook her head, “No—I mean, lay down.”
He only appeared more confused, so she huffed dramatically.
“Just put your head on my lap.”
The astonished look on Bellamy’s face almost made Clarke lapse into fit of giggles. As if he’d never expect such a tender request from her, she met his warm eyes only to see he was studying her fastidiously- brows furrowing in concern- he tilted his body to inspect the crown of her head for any bumps.
Of course Bellamy would worry- it was his job to so. But this was ridiculous. Clarke scooted away from him, unfurling out her legs in front of her, she motioned for him to come closer, and patted her thigh invitingly.
“That’s an order, Blake.”
Now with both eyebrows raised, Bellamy gave her an incredulous look- reeling back somewhat to show her just how flabbergasted he was. Clarke beckoned him with her finger; and he turned away with an amusing grin, tongue prodding the inside of his cheeks.
The freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose became more prominent with the blood rushing to his cheeks- he coughed- though it sounded more like a strained laugh, then he turned to her- a twinkle in his brown eyes, and he was smiling dismissively, shaking his head.
“Alright, I won’t argue.”
Bellamy slid over to her side, twisting so he could lay himself down carefully- he shifted into a more comfortable position on Clarke’s lap- resting his hands on his lower abdomen.
He seemed pretty content, though a bit stiff. Looking everywhere but at the woman he was currently using as a human pillow. Clarke couldn’t help but snicker at his shyness- big bad Bellamy, turned to a nervous mess at her provocation. It made her feel tingly- like phantom fingers trailing up her spine, and the sensation wasn’t lost on Bellamy either.
Hesitant, his eyes flickered to her face, she smiled reassuringly, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s okay, just relax.”
He did as she told him, releasing a breath when her hand came down to run through the cluster of curls at the top of his head, smoothing them down. She watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed- averting his gaze, eventually shutting his eyes, breathing evenly as she continued her soothing ministrations.
Clarke was fascinated by Bellamy’s hair- even if it was slightly matted with debris and dust she brushed off. She liked watching his curls bounce back into place, she loved how soft his hair felt between her fingers as she combed through his tangles- she adored the way his facial features would twitch then soften each time she passed her hand through a particular knot.
Of course, this was a far cry from solving the fate of the world; but to Clarke, her sensibility and state of mind where two of the most important factors in her ability to deduce a problem, and come up with a rational plan.
So what better way to calm her frayed nerves then playing with her respected partners hair? It really was loosening her up; and Bellamy appeared to be in some kind of bliss, looking about ready to doze off on her lap. The corners of her lips quirked as she toyed with a lock of his dark hair- leaning down just a bit more so a long curtain of wavy blonde cascaded over her shoulder and just barely brushed over his cheekbone.
He mumbled something so low, her ears could hardly pick it up, even being this close to him.
“What was that?”
“Feels nice…”
Clarke smiled, then broke into an all-out grin.
“Yeah?” She raked a hand through his curls, pushing back his bangs.
“Yeah,” Bellamy swallowed, turning his head to lock eyes with her, amusement tugging one corner of his mouth. “Feel a bit like a dog though, but that’s fine.”
Clarke chuckled, “Well you’re loyal like one.”
Bellamy snorted, turning away from her- she quickly backtracked, not meaning to offend him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean... you’re not a dog, I just— “
“It’s alright,” He sighed. “I know what I’m about.”
Clarke shook her head, biting back another sassy retort- focusing more on the warm weight of Bellamy on her thighs, and the attempt to tame his wild curls (or more like make it even messier). The light of dusk was now approaching- the setting sun’s rays shone through the tall glass windows of the chamber, bathing the two in a luminescent orange glow.
She noticed how the dull light of the sunset on Bellamy’s face erased all his battle scars- made him appear softer, younger. Clarke tucked a curl behind his ear- realizing that they’re both going to have to evacuate Polis with the rest of Arkadia’s people soon. They’re both going to have to step into leadership- whether the people wanted them to or not. Whether they wanted to or not. She needed Bellamy for this- if they were going to survive this ordeal, she needed her equal.
Before her mind could finish processing her thoughts, her mouth was already forming the sentence.
“You know; they were going to hang you.”
Bellamy stirred in his wake, looking up at her through half-lidded eyes.
“When they were trying to break me—they, ALIE used my mother instead, but it was you they wanted.”
Clarke stopped her ministrations, leaning against the rail of the bed- swallowing back her words, she hadn’t meant to spill it to him, but it slipped off her tongue, Bellamy had that effect on her.
He was already sitting up, features contorting into his usual look of worry. He cocked his head to the side, his face just inches from her own, she could see better the scar on his lip, she could almost count every single freckle on his nose.
“Clarke…”
When she found herself drowning in depths of summery brown, Clarke quietly mumbled the truth she was hoping she’d never have to face again. “I was willing to let my mother die.”
She said it like an epiphany had come over her- and it had, in all honesty. Clarke had been prepared to watch Abby Griffin die in front of her own eyes- the woman who raised her, nurtured her- she recalled steeling herself for the inevitable, never looking away.
“You had to protect the passcode.” Bellamy voiced what raced through her head at that moment, and yes she did. Clarke always saw the bigger picture- for the greater good of their people.
Whatever it took, she thought, to protect them. But did that not make her a murderer in its own right?
“I know, but having to sacrifice her—watching her hang herself, Bellamy— “Clarke broke off with a deprecating laugh, “She’s my mother, my family. And I was going to kill her.”
“Clarke.”
The finality in his deep tone made her lips clamp shut. She felt tears prickling the corners of her eyes, and hastily blinked them away. No time to cry—they would be leaving soon, and if she was going to lead, she needed to be strong. Leaders don’t cry, they cope.
Bellamy lifted his hand, cupping the side of her cheek in such an uncharacteristically gentle way- Clarke’s heart thrummed in its cage. He wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape.
“I don’t want to go through that again.” She whispered, feeling the rough pads of his thumb on her cheek.
“You won’t have too.” He said, then paused. “I won’t let that happen.”
“What if it had been you?”
Bellamy dropped his hand to her neck, then her shoulder, then her arm. Each touch more tender than the last.
“What if it was you tying a rope around your neck—you that I was forced to watch… die.”
At that he shrugged, without a care in the world. It pissed her off more than anything.
“Then you let me die.”
Clarke huffed, blowing air out her nose, and swatting his hands away from her. “Of course you would say that.”
Bellamy took ahold of one her hands in his own, and she’s had just about enough to push him away- but decided against it.
“I’m serious Clarke—Hey, look at me.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her head still. She had the right mind to glare at him, narrowing dangeriously blue eyes.
“When it’s only sacrificing one life to save millions of others. You do it—without hesitation, you understand the consequences, and are willing to face them head on. You don’t give up, you’ll pull through. I know you.”
His gaze was heavy, and smoldering. His hands were too big, and too warm on her skin- he was crowding her. Clarke knew he was only referring to himself in that statement- because of course he is. He’s selfless, he’s brave—and no one else was more willing to face death head on if it meant better for the survivability of their people.
Clarke sniffed, “And what if it’s somebody I love?”
Bellamy was silent than, mouth opening then closing tightly in a grim line. He turned away, the warmth of his hands leaving her.
“Sometimes…” he clenched his jaw, a tick that happened whenever he didn’t fully agree with something. “Sometimes those decisions are painful to make—but if it’s for the better of keeping our people safe.”
Clarke figured she’d heard enough. “Bellamy— “
“Hey!”
The chamber door was thrown open, startling the two of their moment, Bellamy jumped to a stand in front of her, hands flying to the pistol strapped to his waist. Clarke’s voice stuck in her throat. Two Arkadian guards shuffled in, one of them looking more sheepish than the other at disturbing both Bellamy and Clarke from whatever it was they thought the two were doing.
Bellamy relaxed at the sight of familiar faces, “Miller, Harper. What’s going on?”
Miller stepped forward, not all fazed at the fact his own friend very nearly shot him. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
“Kane and Murphy gathered the rest of our people around Polis—Abby is already treating the rest that were taken down from the crucifixes.”
Bellamy swiftly glanced down to Clarke at the mention of the older Griffin.
“And Jaha?”
“Currently locked up in one of the dungeons,” Harper quipped from behind Miller, “We’ll set him free once we’re ready to leave.”
Bellamy nodded, “Alright, thanks for the update.”
Miller clapped a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll let you two know when it's time to evacuate the tower.”
“Roger that.”
Harper was the first out the door, Bellamy was just about to take a seat near Clarke once more before Miller called for him again, standing awkwardly near the door way.
Bellamy came over to him, “What is it?”
“Um—your sister, Octavia she—We couldn’t stop her from leaving, she— “
Bellamy stopped him with a wave of his hand, “It’s okay, I know.”
Clarke snapped her head up, even Miller appeared shocked—but noticing his friends pained expression, it quickly changed to one of sympathy.
“I’m sorry, man.”
Bellamy exhaled a long breath, “It’s okay, It’s Octavia. She can take care of herself.”
It sounded more as if he was trying to convince himself than the other. Miller kept his eyes cast down, patting him reassuringly on the back, before turning to leave.
Once the door was shut, Bellamy walked over to where Clarke lounged, dropping to sit by her side, his expression unreadable. They stayed like that for the next couple of minutes, basking in the heat of the dying sun rays, before Clarke broke the silence.
“Are you really okay?”
“Are you?” Came his gruff reply. Then he turned to face her, and the shield he was hiding behind slowly came down, because it was Clarke.
“I’m okay.” He said, then added more firmly. “I’ll be okay.”
And they lapsed into a comfortable silence once more. Both Co-leaders taking shelter in each other’s presence. Clarke rested her head upon his shoulder; and he turned to breath her in.
“I think we should get going.” Bellamy rumbled against her hair, to which she made a non-committal sound.
“… Or do you want to stay here and play with my hair some more?”
Clarke hid her smile against the fabric of his shirt, and she nodded.
#t100fic#t100oneshot#bellarke#bellamy blake#clarke griffin#i wonder if they'll ever be canon#whens season 5 it's been a year and a half
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