Chapter Text
“I’m serious, Raven--” Clarke looked up at the young mechanic, face tense with worry, “--the second that Bellamy takes out the acid fog, you send that flare. Not a moment later. Understand? Lexa and the Twelve Clans won’t wait forever. ” She continued rifling through her pack, rapidly accounting for everything that she’d need to attend the council in Ton DC.
Raven rolled her eyes. “No shit, Clarke. I’m not just gonna sit around on my ass after Bellamy disables the acid fog. I’m not stupid.”
Clarke grabbed her pistol and ejected its magazine, mentally counting out the ammo. Only three bullets? She sighed, dropping the weapon back into her bag. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not stupid, Raven. It’s just-- this really needs to work.”
“It will. Bellamy’s closing in on the acid fog. It’s only a matter of time before we take that bastard out for good.”
Clarke gave Raven a tight-lipped smile. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Clarke snorted and returned to packing. “Then let's get this done.”
Raven shot Clarke a grin. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a voice, crackling and muffled, blaring from the radio--
“--Ark Station, do you read me?”
Is that-- Clarke furrowed her brow, turning to Raven. “I thought Bellamy wasn’t supposed to check in for another hour?”
“He’s not.” Raven jumped on the radio, working to clarify the signal.
“Raven, are you there?” He called out again, his breath tighter and thinner than a piano wire. “We’ve got a problem.” Clarke’s stomach dropped out of her ass.
No... She snatched up the radio’s transmitter. “Bellamy, it’s Clarke. What’s wrong? What happened?” Her heart slammed against her ribcage.
“Clarke,” he said, voice low and breathless. “Clarke, I’m really sorry--”
“What. Happened.” She cut him off, fear scaling the base of her neck with pinprick claws.
Raven adjusted the radio once more and the static cleared. She hissed in triumph. “Got it!” Clarke could barely hear her.
“I was trying to find the acid fog--” He broke off, groaning under his breath.
“Cut to the chase, Bellamy.” Worry sliced her to the bone.
“I got shot.”
Her heart stopped. “What?”
“They shot me. I-- I can’t get the acid fog, I’m sorry.”
Static overwhelmed Clarke’s body, buzzing thickly in her chest and vibrating down her fingertips. Fleeting nerves left her a statue, cold and unmoving, transmitter frozen in her hand.
“Oh shit…” Raven murmured, snatching the transmitter from Clarke’s grasp. “Are you okay?”
“No, Raven. I got shot, I’m definitely not okay.”
“Shut up, I mean are you going to be okay?” Raven corrected gently.
“I don’t know.” Bellamy paused for a moment. “There’s a lot of blood.”
There’s a problem. Clarke blinked and shook her head. Fix the problem. “Where’d they shoot you?”
“In the side.” A small shred of relief loosened the tension in her chest. Okay, that’s a start. Maybe it’s not that bad.
Raven looked at Clarke expectantly, holding the transmitter between them.
“Above or below the ribs?”
“About an inch below, on the right side.”
Oh thank god, it missed his lungs. “Good, that’s good,” she said. “Is there an exit wound?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I can check--” He inhaled sharply, air hissing through his teeth.
“--It’s okay! You don’t have to check! You’d know if there was an exit wound, Bellamy. I can’t imagine not feeling that.”
“Right. My bad.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to help you through this, okay?” Clarke said, gripping the transmitter with white knuckles. Bellamy was going to be fine. He had to be.
“Okay.” He huffed a small laugh. “Thanks, Princess.”
Clarke smiled gently. “Let’s try to make this a one time thing.” Raven put a hand on her shoulder and cocked her head towards the hallway. Clarke nodded. “Bellamy, I have to do something real quick, but I’m going to be right back. I want you to put pressure on the wound, okay?”
“Okay.” He mumbled, exhaustion already wearing into his voice.
Clarke tried not to think about it as Raven dragged her just outside of the engineering room and stopped, hands planted firmly on her hips. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m helping Bellamy, do you have a problem with that?” Clarke’s eyes turned to acid, daring Raven to challenge her.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “No, I don’t have a problem with that, obviously. But you’re supposed to go to Ton DC, remember?”
“I’m not going.”
“Wait, what?” Raven looked up at her incredulously. “You’ve been raving about this meeting non-stop for days, Clarke! I’m pretty sure you’ve said “this better work” and “this is our last chance at survival” and “if we can’t pull this off then we’re all dead” at least twenty freaking times, and now you’re just dropping it? Just like that?”
“Yeah. Just like that,” she said, voice flat and impersonal. Her glare told a different story.
“What about Lexa and the Twelve Clans, Clarke? What about the alliance? You killed Finn for this, are you really telling me that was all for nothing?”
“Do you want Bellamy to die too? Because that is exactly what’s going to happen if I don’t stay here and help him.”
Raven scoffed. “Oh please, it’s not like you’re the only doctor in Camp Jaha. You’re probably not even the best one we have, so you better think of a new excuse.”
Clarke paused, heat rising in her chest. She shuffled in place for a moment then sighed, anger falling away. Nothing but fear and regret stood in its place. “I need to stay here because this is all my fault. I’m the one who sent Bellamy to Mount Weather. I told him that it was worth the risk, Raven.” Her voice threatened to waver, but she held strong. “And now he’s bleeding out in that fucking mountain because of what I said. This is my fault, so it’s my job to fix it.”
“Clarke,” Raven said, a little more gently. “You can’t run from your responsibilities just because you feel guilty about putting Bellamy’s life in danger. You made that decision as our leader, and you need to stand by that.”
Clarke shook her head and frowned, eyes cast to the floor. “I didn’t send Bellamy to Mount Weather because I thought it was the best decision. I did it--” She took a shaky breath. “--I did it because I was hurting. I was hurting and I didn’t want to feel that pain ever again. But I just made it even worse. God, I made things so much worse.”
Raven inhaled sharply, anger lighting behind her eyes. “Don’t you dare blame your stupidity on losing Finn. You killed him. I didn’t want that, Bellamy didn’t want that, nobody wanted that, Clarke!”
“I didn’t want it either!” Clarke shouted, eyes shining. “I didn’t want to kill Finn, but the Grounders would’ve killed all of us if I didn’t.”
“You don’t know that!” Raven yelled back, voice shaking. “We could’ve ran! You could’ve talked to Lexa! Something-- anything-- but you didn’t even try. You decided that the best option was to plunge a knife right into his heart while everyone watched. While I watched.”
“I’m sorry,” Clarke said, words void of emotion. “I wish things could’ve been different, Raven. I really do.”
Raven looked at Clarke in disgust. “I don’t care. Not a day goes by where I don’t regret giving you that knife.”
“I did what I had to do,” she said, more to herself than to the grief-stricken mechanic.
A harsh laugh broke from Raven’s chest. “Is that what you’re going to tell Octavia after Bellamy dies?”
“Bellamy’s not going to die.” Clarke shot back angrily. “I won’t let that happen.”
“If only Finn had been that lucky.”
Clarke’s breath caught in her chest. She stood completely frozen, thoughts and actions rendered stagnant. Any words she might’ve chosen swam uselessly throughout her head, escaping out her ears and bouncing down the cold metal hallway.
Raven cleared her throat and stepped away from Clarke. “I’ll tell Kane that you’re not going to Ton DC.” Her voice was calm and measured, a clear sign that their discussion was far from over.
“Thank you.” She shuffled on her feet, anxiously backing towards the radio. To Bellamy.
“Hey, Clarke?” Raven asked, grabbing her attention at the last second.
“Yeah?” Clarke said. An unfamiliar sense of impatience tingled through her limbs.
“I really hope you’re right. I really hope you can save Bellamy.” Genuine sincerity filled Raven’s expression, and for a single fleeting moment Clarke wanted nothing more than to fall to her knees and relentlessly apologize for every single way that she’d wronged the young mechanic. Because in the deepest pit of her heart, Clarke knew that she never wanted to hurt Raven. She never wanted to hurt Finn. She never wanted to hurt anyone. But try as she might, grief and agony followed in her wake.
She paused, briefly overwhelmed by the horrific weight of her existence. But as soon as the moment had arrived, it left, taking any desire to apologize with it. After all, she made her decisions as their leader. She needed to stand by that. “Just go talk to Kane, okay?” she said, tall and demanding and absolutely certain. Just like a real leader.
“Fine, whatever.” Raven huffed, stalking down the long dim hallway. Then there was only Clarke, the engineering room, and the quiet hum from Bellamy’s radio.
Bellamy--
Clarke flew across the engineering room and snatched up the transmitter. “Bellamy, are you there? I’m back. Raven had to go, but I’m back. I’m sorry that took so long.”
For a moment, there was nothing but static. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and waited, willing herself to keep it together. Come on, Bellamy… The radio crackled to life. Air filled her lungs once again. “Hey, Princess. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.” Bellamy’s voice called out, playful but fatigued.
Clarke smiled despite the cold weight that settled in her chest. “Unfortunately for you, I remembered. It looks like you’re stuck with me.”
“Could be worse,” he said, attempting (unsuccessfully) to hide the strain in his voice.
She straightened in her seat, worry ruining the moment. “How’s your side?”
“Still hurts like hell.” He sighed, breathing ragged and fraying at the edges. “It won’t stop bleeding.”
“Have you been putting pressure on it?”
“I’m trying, but it’s not like I have bandages here. I’ve been using my hand.”
Clarke swallowed thickly, trying not to visualize Bellamy’s situation in too much detail. “It’s okay, that’ll work too.” She took a shaky breath. “How much blood do you think you’ve lost?”
“Fuck, I don’t know Clarke. It’s all over my clothes, but that could mean anything.”
He’s got a point. Blood loss was tricky subject. Sometimes smaller wounds would bleed unnecessarily while serious ones appeared mild on the surface. It was an unfortunate complication, but Clarke had been trained to identify the key warning signs of a severe injury. Too bad they didn’t train Bellamy. Her blood ran cold. “Don’t worry about it for now. We’ll just try to stop the bleeding from here.” She pinched the bridge of her nose before adding lightly, “Sorry about your clothes.”
“They’re not mine,” he said, frigid tone betraying a story that Clarke hadn’t heard yet. She resolved to ask him about it later, if-- when-- she corrected herself-- when he gets through this. He’ll get through this.
Dammit, why can’t I be there? She shuffled the transmitter between her hands, wracking her brain for a solution. The one she found made her stomach turn. “Hey, Bellamy?” she began, already regretting her decision.
“Yeah?”
Clarke took a deep breath. “I need you to try and remove the bullet. Can you do that for me?”
A long pause came from the radio and Clarke was hit by a sudden urge to take her request back. She shoved it down, acid and all. This is necessary.
“Okay,” he said, voice shaky and withdrawn. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Alright, good.” She nodded to herself, only growing more tense with Bellamy’s confirmation.
“Where do I start?”
“Take off your shirt,” she said, trying not to think of all the times she’d imagined telling him the same thing. As usual, reality fell short of her daydreams.
He gave a quiet laugh. “I thought you’d never ask.”
An abrupt silence grew between them, sending a brilliant red flush across her cheeks. Thank god Bellamy isn’t here to see this-- A massive wave of guilt slammed into her over the innocently tactless thought. Oh god I can’t believe I just thought that when--
Bellamy’s voice came crackling over the radio before Clarke could properly devolve into a pit of self-loathing. “Okay, my shirt’s off.”
“Good,” she replied awkwardly.
“Should I take my pants off too?” he joked, weary and breathless from the exertion of undressing. If taking off his shirt was that difficult, then Bellamy must be even worse than I thought…
“Let's keep your pants on-- for now,” she said, attempting pitifully to lighten the situation.
“Your loss.”
Clarke huffed a laugh. “I’m sure.” She frowned to herself, not ready for what came next. “What does it look like-- your bullet wound-- what does your bullet wound look like?” she added before he had the opportunity to make another nervous joke.
“It looks like a bullet wound, Clarke. You know, the little circle with blood coming from it?”
“Bellamy…”
He sighed, breath catching on the way out. “Clean entrance. No exit wound. Still bleeding, but it got a little better once I laid on the ground.”
Clarke closed her eyes and tried to visualize the wound. She found it easier to pretend that it belonged to someone else. Anyone but Bellamy. “Do you see the bullet?” she asked softly.
“No,” he said, voice barely a whisper.
A chill ran down her spine. “Okay, that’s okay. It could still be a shallow wound,” she murmured, not quite sure who she was really comforting.
“Can I use my hand?” Bellamy asked suddenly, pulling Clarke’s attention.
“What?”
“I don’t have anything to take the bullet out,” he explained, voice shaking. “Is it okay if I just try to see if I can grab it with my hand?”
Clarke’s stomach dropped. “That’s fine.” It’s not fine. This is anything but fine.
“I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Okay.” She gripped the transmitter even tighter and braced herself. For a moment, it was completely silent, save for Bellamy’s uneven breathing. That changed very quickly.
It took Clarke a moment to realize that the choked groan coming over the radio wasn’t from interference or background noise-- it was Bellamy. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, Bellamy.” She began speaking rapidly into the transmitter, voice low and hushed.
The groan was broken by a few ragged breaths and what sounded like-- to Clarke’s growing horror-- a sob. “I know, I know it hurts. It’ll be okay, Bellamy. You’re going to be okay.”
With her words, he finally broke, voice ripping apart with an inhuman scream that Clarke knew would haunt her for the rest of her life. “Bellamy!” she shouted frantically into the transmitter. “You can stop! Please, Bellamy!” Her heart froze when his scream turned into a strangled gagging sound.
“Bellamy!” Clarke yelled so loudly that a pulse of static burst through the radio. Please be okay. Oh god, please let him be okay. Tears filled her eyes and she choked back a sob. This can’t be it. He can’t die like this.
The gagging sound peaked into a guttural retch that made Clarke’s blood run cold. Then, as quickly as it came, all of the pain and horror flooding through the radio died away, leaving only the sound of their equally shaky breathing in it’s wake.
“Bellamy?” Clarke whispered into the transmitter, voice wobbly and pinched. A few stray tears ran down her cheeks but she couldn’t care less. Her heart had been run through a blender. Tears were more than reasonable.
Bellamy’s breathing was heavy and clipped-- far worse than before. “I’m okay,” he returned weakly. “I just-- I threw up. I had to stop after that.”
Clarke’s gut twisted. “Bellamy…”
“It’s okay, I can try again,” he said, completely missing the point. “I just need a minute.”
Like hell you’re trying again. “Absolutely not,” she said, firm and measured and absolutely certain. Even though all she wanted in that moment was to just cry her eyes out for at least an hour. But that wasn’t an option. Bellamy needed her to be strong. He needed her to find a solution. So she pressed onward. “I-- I can’t listen to you going through that again. I just can’t.”
“Clarke--”
“I’m not having you do this!” She cut him off. “You don’t have to take out the bullet. I’ll think of something else.” She propped her head in her hands and began wracking her brain for something-- anything-- that might be able to save Bellamy.
Maybe he can try more bandages? “Bellamy, do you have anything that you could use to stop the bleeding? Scraps of cloth, bandages, things like that?”
“No,” he murmured over the radio, far softer than Clarke would’ve liked. “I don’t have any of that.”
“What about your shirt? Didn’t you take off your shirt?”
A heavy sigh. “It’s completely soaked in blood. I can’t use it.”
Fuck. Okay, we can still fix this. There are other ways to stop bleeding, Clarke. Figure this out! She dug her hands into her hair and squeezed, willing her brain to find a solution. “Where are you right now?”
“I’m in Mount Weather, Clarke. I thought we’d established that.”
She rolled her eyes, dropping her arms on the engineering table with a loud thud. “I know that, Bellamy! I mean where are you in Mount Weather? Are you in someone’s room?”
“Oh…” Understanding dawned on his voice. “No, I think I’m in a storage closet. I can’t really tell, it’s pretty dark.”
Oh god… Acid spread through Clarke’s stomach. She choked it down. Okay, maybe it’s not a bad thing. Maybe there’s something he can use in there. “Okay, that’s okay. Do you see anything useful? Any ice, salt water, flour, electric tape, anything like that?”
“Wait, what? Why would I want flour?”
“Bleeding, Bellamy! Those things could stop the bleeding!” Clarke exploded, dropping her head into her hands. “Please tell me that you see something.” She pinched the bridge of her nose tightly and let out a long shuddering breath, feeling her nerves spark and catch like a live wire.
Bellamy sighed so gently that it hurt. “Clarke…” And with that single word, her heart broke in two. “The room’s almost empty. There’s only a couple boxes in here, but they’re stacked on the highest shelf and I-- I can’t get those.”
An icy hand squeezed Clarke’s lungs, but she pushed back. No, this can’t be it! I can still fix this! “Can you get to the med bay? There’d definitely be supplies in there. Do you know how far away you are?”
“Clarke,” Bellamy said, voice wavering slightly. “I can’t walk.”
The floor dropped out from beneath Clarke, leaving her to hang on desperately to whatever hope remained by her fingertips. She realized that, by some sort of hilarious irony, Bellamy wasn’t there to save her this time. She’d made sure of that. “That’s okay.” Her voice clipped upwards with false optimism. “I’ll figure something out. I can still fix this!”
Bellamy’s voice called out over the radio, soft and comforting but fading all the same. “It’s not your fault.”
Something in his words made Clarke pause. “What?” she asked, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m dying, Clarke… Promise me you won’t blame yourself for that.”
The world stood still. He’s giving up. “You’re not dying,” she said, feeling the declaration rattle through every fiber of her being. “You’re going to be fine, okay?”
“Promise me, Clarke,” he whispered, voice growing weaker by the second.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Desperation clawed up the back of her throat but she refused to stand down. “No! I’m not promising you because you’re not dying.”
“Please… Tell Octavia that I love her. That I’m proud of her.” Bellamy’s voice was weary but full of emotion. “I always have been.”
Octavia. I’d have to tell Octavia if Bellamy-- The thought of the younger Blake made Clarke jump to her feet. I can’t tell her. I won’t tell her. I won’t need to-- This. Isn’t. Happening. She snatched up the transmitter and spoke calmly but firmly. “Tell her yourself, Bellamy. You’re not dying. Do you hear me? You don’t die today.”
Clarke tossed the transmitter aside and began pacing across the engineering room. Past the radio and towards Wick’s workstation. Stop at the chemistry table. Turn. Back and forth. He doesn’t have any bandages. Removing the bullet is out of the question. We need to stop the bleeding, but how? Countless ideas rattled desperately through her skull. Maybe he can make a tourniquet? She continued pacing, her footsteps tapping across the hard metal floor. Back and forth. No, if he doesn’t have the materials to make a bandage then he doesn’t have anything that could make a tourniquet. What if he called out for help? Static crackled over the radio. Bellamy was waiting. She paced harder. No, the guards would find him first. Maybe we can send someone into the mountain? She stopped in front of a large collection of beakers and screwed her eyes shut. Bellamy won’t last that long. He needs help now. What can I do that will help him right now? She tapped a finger between her eyebrows, willing her brain to find a solution. Come on Clarke, think! Her face twisted into a grimace. She tapped harder. Think! The radio buzzed impatiently. Think of something! Static filled her thoughts. Think of anything! Her heart pounded in her ears. THINK!
The horrifying reality of the situation smacked Clarke dead in the face. Her ears rang and her head spun as it rattled around her skull, bruising and crushing and devastating beyond all belief. No matter what I do, I can't save Bellamy. This is it. This is the end.
She drifted back towards the radio and sat down, movements forced and mechanical. “Bellamy? Are you there?” She spoke softly into the transmitter. At first, there was only the quiet rustling of radio static. A gut-wrenching jolt of fear pulsed through Clarke’s veins. Please… Don’t tell me that I’m too late…
But then, like a beacon in a storm, Bellamy’s voice called back to her. “Yeah... I’m here...”
A small wave of relief crested and broke over her, and she slumped into the engineering table. He’s still alive. He’s still here. With a deep, shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and finally said it. “I love you.” The words came easily, like she’d already said them a million times over. And in that moment, Clarke wished that she had.
Bellamy’s breathing hitched. “Don’t…” he warned, voice low and defensive.
She stopped dead. “Don’t what?” Her heart laid bare and completely vulnerable in the palm of her hand, but he wouldn’t take it. What if he…
A long pause. Then Bellamy whispered, quiet and broken. “You don’t have to say it just because I’m dying.”
And then it all made sense. He doesn’t know. The realization punched Clarke square in the chest, cracking her ribs, stealing her breath, breaking her heart. How could he not know? She shook her head and smiled sadly, despite the tremble in her lip. “But I do. I love you. I’ve loved you since we landed on this god-awful planet and I will never stop loving you. Not now, not ever.”
“Yeah?” His voice called back. It was gentle and barely there, but happy. Oh it was so happy, happier than Clarke had ever heard it.
“Yeah, Bellamy. I love you.” She said the words again, softly but with absolute conviction. Because if there was only one thing in the world that Clarke could be certain of it was that she loved Bellamy. She loved him, but now she'd have to lose him.
He sighed contentedly, voice pulling further and further out of focus. “I love you too, Clarke.”
She let out a laugh so short and so bitter that it might’ve been a sob. After weeks of mindlessly waiting and wondering, hoping for the right time, she finally knew. He loved her. Bellamy loved her. And she loved him. But love wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough.
But goddammit she could still try.
“If you love me--” The words caught in the back of her throat, “--then you have to stay alive, okay? This isn’t the end for us, Bellamy. There’s still so much left for us to do, and I can’t do it without you. I just can’t.”
“Yes you can, Clarke,” he said, words weary but still spoken with all too much confidence. “I know you can.”
White-hot fear coursed through her veins. No, no, he can’t just give up like this! Her hands shook as she gripped the transmitter even tighter, squaring off her voice before trying again. “Even if I could do it alone, I still wouldn’t want to. I want you here with me, Bellamy. We’re going to save our people. We’ll get them out of that mountain and never let anything bad happen to them ever again. I want you to be there for that.”
“I want to be there too…” The rest of his sentence hung thickly in the air, unspoken yet bitterly understood. I want to be there too, but that’s not up to me.
Clarke swallowed roughly. Steadying her breath grew harder and harder with each passing second. “Then be there. We-- we’ll get married, Bellamy. We’ll spend the rest of our lives together. And we’ll lead our people together, better than anyone else has ever done it! And we’ll have at least three kids.”
“What about--” his voice hitched, “--the one-child rule?”
“Screw the one-child rule! I want our kids to have siblings.” Our kids… A warm feeling spread through her limbs at the thought. But we won’t get that chance, will we? The feeling turned to ice.
Bellamy gave a soft, fading sigh. “That’d be nice…”
This can’t be happening. This can’t be it. The knot in Clarke’s chest began to hopelessly unravel, taking her composure with it. “We’re gonna be happy, Bellamy. You and me? We’re gonna have the best life. We’re gonna be so happy.” We would’ve been, but I sent him away. I did this to him. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her voice was choked. “So you can’t die, okay? You can’t die, because we’re supposed to end up together.” Her lip trembled pitifully. “We’re meant to be.”
“Meant to be…” Bellamy echoed, fading into silence. Clarke could hear the smile in his whisper.
And then she couldn’t hear anything.
“Bellamy?” Her heart stopped.
Nothing.
“Bellamy!”
Nothing.
“Oh god…” The air had been stolen from her lungs. No, no this can’t be it! He can’t be gone! “Bellamy…” she sobbed, clutching the transmitter like a life-line.
Only static remained.
The world came crashing down. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry…”
No response.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I love you...”
Silence.
She said it again. “I love you!”
For all the times that she wanted to, but was too afraid of those three little words. “I love you.”
For all the times that she should’ve said it, but never did because the time wasn’t right. “I love you.”
And for all the times that she could’ve said it, but wouldn’t be able to now that their future had been stolen from them-- now that he was gone. “I love you…”
She laid her head on the table and sobbed, her heart a writhing pit of snakes, her lungs made of acid and flames. She sat there, twisted and burning, and waited. For something. For anything. But with each passing moment she knew that it was all for nothing. Oh god he’s gone, he’s really gone…
Fire turned to ice. Acid turned to lead. Her head was stuffed with cotton and a cold void filled her chest. Nothing was right in the world because Bellamy wasn’t in it. He was gone. Dead. The world would never be right again.
In the back of her mind, Clarke knew what came next. She didn’t want to say it-- she didn’t want to accept what it meant. But she knew Bellamy deserved more than that. He deserved to be sent off, even if it had to be over the radio. Even if doing so would rip her to pieces.
He deserves better than this.
With that bitter realization, Clarke closed her eyes and dreamed of what might’ve been.
They really would’ve saved everyone. Clarke was sure of it. Anything was possible when they worked together. Even peace.
“In peace, may you leave this shore.” She began, voice shaking horribly.
In time, the council would’ve come to respect Bellamy’s undeniable talent and skill as a leader. They would’ve finally seen that he was so much more than their petty labels. He was strong. He was brave. He was someone worth knowing-- someone worth trusting. He was good. Clarke knew that-- she believed that, even if Bellamy didn’t.
“In love--” The words stuck painfully in her throat, but she pressed on. She had to finish. For him, do it for him. “--may you find the next.”
They would’ve built a life for themselves-- for their people. One where death wouldn’t loom over their heads at every turn. Where problems would be met with the perfect blend of empathy and reasoning, instead of the chilling mix of violence and inhumanity that they’d known for so long. They would’ve built a new life. A better life. And they would’ve done it together.
“Safe passage on your travels--” Tears overwhelmed Clarke’s vision, but she didn’t care. Nothing was worth seeing at this point.
Together. That’s really what it all came down to in the end, wasn’t it? Any problem. Any need. It was all so easy as long as they were together.
“Until our--” she broke off, barely coherent, “--our final journey to the ground.”
Only now they weren’t together, and they never would be again.
“May--” Finish the blessing-- The room dipped and swam with each heaving sob that wracked her frame. You have to finish the blessing-- “may we meet--”
The radio crackled to life with a sharp burst of static. “--Hello?” A small female voice called out, so fast that Clarke almost missed it.
She froze in her seat. Her pulse thrummed behind her eyes and tears continued to run freely down her cheeks. Was that-- She stared at the radio, mouth hanging open, vision still blurred beyond recognition. No… I have to be hearing things--
“Hello?!” The voice called out again. “Is anyone there? We need help!” Her words were jumbled and frantic, but real. Very very real. Clarke leapt on the radio, snatching up the transmitter and speaking in a blurred, shaky rush.
“Maya?”