Took a while but I finally got to writing the third chapter. This one's pretty angsty, which I hope makes up for the short length. Please don't forget to review, favorite, follow. Your support has been amazing.



Chapter Three:

Bellamy almost gasped when he felt the fresh air hit his face. His shoulders sagged as he took in a deep breath, basking in the warm sunlight shining upon him. God, he'd missed this so much.

Clarke was watching him from a foot away, a bright smile on her face. She was so happy that for the first time in weeks, he looked content. It reminded her of the first time they'd stepped foot on Earth.

They slowly made their way to the graves that had been built for those five people, the ones that had died while in captivity.

Jasper, Danny, Susan, Lilly, and Mike.

They were the ones that had gone with Bellamy and never made it out. Never got to see daylight again, never got to feel the sun against their faces. Just the thought of it made shivers crawl up Clarke's spine. With a soft sigh, she placed the flowers she'd picked outside of the Ark beside each one of their headstones, wishing them all safe refuge in their new home.

She stood back up to look at her companion, frowning at what she saw. Not that it was any different than usual. But still, it hurt. In the weeks he'd spent recovering, most of his more minor wounds had healed, and the rest were on their way. But his mind was on a rampage to destroy him. Everyone knew that he suffered from constant nightmares that never seemed to leave him alone. They knew that he struggled every day, trying to forget what had happened to him, trying not to let it all consume him. But no matter how hard he tried, it all seemed to be for nothing. Slowly, Bellamy was starting to lose hope. And now this was almost like the last straw.

His eyes had dulled, his head was hung in shame, his fists clenched at his sides. "I shouldn't be happy," he whispered brokenly, guilt lacing his words. "Here I am, smiling that I'm outside when they're down there, buried in the dirt." And then, in no more than a weak breath, he added, "It should be me instead of them."

Somehow, Clarke heard him, and she grabbed his face in both hands, not caring that he'd flinched at the unexpected contact. "Bellamy Blake, you do not get to say that," she said sternly. "You survived for a reason. The Ark needs you. Your sister needs you. I need you. Please, don't blame yourself for this, because you did nothing wrong. It could've happened to anybody. You hear me?"

In all honesty, Bellamy was too tired to argue. He nodded instead, a stray tear falling down his face and onto the soil beneath him.

"Now come on," Clarke continued, brushing the tear away and smiling assuringly. "Let's grab some food from the mess hall and then have lunch out here. It'll be good for you."

For the first time in a very long time, Bellamy felt refreshed. He couldn't believe that he'd ever taken the blessing of having a meal outside for granted. It was something that he was never going to do again. Unfortunately for him, it began raining after about a half hour, and Clarke forced him to go inside, in fear of him catching a cold. He agreed that he did not need that on top of everything else.

When they made it back to his room, they were both surprised to see Marcus Kane standing behind the door, an unreadable expression on his face. "Ah, you're back," he said. "Abby told me I'd probably find you here."

Just like when he confronted her that day in the halls, Clarke felt that something was off. "What do you want, Kane…?" she asked hesitantly. Without realizing it, she stepped in front of her companion, as if to protect him. There was no way that she'd let this bastard get to him, she kept thinking.

But Marcus didn't even pay attention to her. His gaze fell on Bellamy, his intended target. Just the coldness in the Chancellor's eyes made the poor man want to turn invisible. If only that were possible.

"Bellamy, I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk to me about your captivity," Kane began, his voice soft but emotionless. He didn't care about Bellamy's well being. All he cared about was his safety. "I have given you some time to recover, and in that time, thankfully, no one has attacked us, but I still want to be prepared. If you'd just give me some information as to what or who you saw, where you think you were, anything. It would all be very appreciated."

Anger began to course through Clarke's veins, and she almost growled. "How dare you?" she breathed out. "I told you that he was-"

"Frankly, I don't care what you told me. I'm addressing Bellamy."

Something in the way he said it made Bellamy shiver. He realized that he had no choice. Somehow, Kane would punish him if he refused. Or worse, he would punish Clarke. That was something that couldn't happen. Wouldn't. "Alright," he said quietly, taking a deep breath to try and prepare himself. He slowly walked over to his bed and sat down, resting his head in his hands. "What do you want to know?"


After another inhale, Bellamy looked up and began, taking slowly and hesitantly. "They kept us in a series of caves. We were separated. When they captured us, they knocked us out, so I have no idea where we were taken. These people are similar to the Grounders, but more ruthless. They never asked any questions. They just…" His voice broke and he began to tremble, the memories all flooding back to him. Everything that he'd tried so hard to forget was entering his mind again. "They spoke English. I never saw the leader, but I overheard that it was a she. Everyday, a man and a few guards came into my cell. The guards were there to make sure that I didn't try to … attack, but I was in no position to do that anyway. They probably came to watch as he-" Once again, he choked on his words, gripping the bed so hard his knuckles were turning white. "That's all I know."

"Thank you, Bellamy," Marcus said. His tone seemed to have changed. Now it held more sympathy … and pity. "This has really helped us."

And then he turned around and left.

The minute he was finally gone, Bellamy let out a sob, wrapping his arms around himself. His head spun as he tried to fight off the horrifying images flashing through his mind. His fingers twitched as he remembered what they'd done to him. He heard the screams of his men in the back of it all, the sounds so painful, he doubled over. When was this ever going to end? he thought.

Clarke rushed over to him, quickly gathering him in her arms and pillowing his head on her lap. She began to stroke his hair. "Hey, it's alright," she murmured, caressing his jawline. "You did great." She missed the top of his head gently, hoping to be of some comfort. "You did great, Bellamy."

The man nodded jerkily, his tremors growing worse. "Just … sit with me for a while," he begged her, his hand finding hers. All he wanted - no, needed - right now was to feel her near him. She was the only one that could truly calm him down.

"Of course."

Hours passed, and neither of them moved.

Time seemed to slow down. Silence surrounded them, broken by the sound of their breathing. Hers was soft, his raspy. Every once in a while, a tremor would take over him, to which she would respond with strengthening words and more kisses.

After a while, Clarke began to think that maybe it was best to just leave him alone, give him some more time to recover from this blow. She carefully helped him lay down properly, about to walk to the door and make her exit when his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, startling her.

His eyes were pleading with her, full of pain and suffering. "Stay."

So she did.