Lost Love Found [ #Wattys2015 ] {Bellarke}

Exhaustion

Clarke's POV

Bellamy helped Clarke bury Lovejoy.

They did not speak to one another, preferring to work in companionable silence. And when it came to time to place the child's body in the earth, Clarke noticed Bellamy's hands begin to shake. She noticed the dip of his head, the clenching of his fingers and the tightening of his jaw.

Clarke reached over and placed a bruised hand over his fisted one. He slowly met her gaze, his eyes filled with sorrow and something far more powerful than grief. Tears did not fall down his cheeks, but his face contorted into an expression of anger.

"What is it?" Clarke asked.

"This is the kid whose father I killed." Bellamy's voice was icy, so cold and distant that she almost shrank back from the intensity of it.

Clarke moved closer to him, despite the obvious warning reflected in his eyes, and draped an arm around his shoulder. His entire body went rigid, almost like a deer staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

"Do you remember what you told me?" Clarke inquired.

Bellamy remained silent.

"We do what we have to do to survive." She breathed and pulled her arm back, slowly, until her hand rested on his shoulder. Clarke watched as he closed his eyes in attempt to calm himself, to think logically.

In this world, allowing the heart control of the mind meant certain death. Only the mind should control the heart.

Clarke had to learn that the hard way.

"They were just kids..." Bellamy murmured.

"They were kids who wouldn't be able to live outside Mount Weather," Clarke replied. "They would just be going from one prison to another. That's no life to live."

Silence. And then, "I hope your right."

. . .

"Is this where you've been the entire time?" Bellamy asked as they walked down the darkened corridor. Without any power, without any life, the bunker seemed eerily quiet and as equally depressing.

"Yes."

The only light source came from an almost drained flashlight that Clarke was steadily carrying in her hand.

Although, by now, she knew the mountain so well that she could probably navigate without it. She was leading Bellamy to one of the dorm rooms, the one that she slept in at night. Clarke had found the room untouched and it was obvious that it had been used for a guest room at one point because there were no personal belongings within the living quarters.

She couldn't stomach the idea of sleeping in a deceased person's bed and the dormitory where the 100 had stayed was too big, reminding Clarke of her imprisonment.

"Do you have food?" Bellamy questioned as they both stopped outside the metal door.

"There's plenty in the kitchen. Most of it doesn't expire until next year." She replied absently and pushed into the room. Thankfully, none of the doors had been locked when the Mountain Men barricaded themselves on Level 5.

Walking into the large antechamber, Clarke scurried around lighting candles and turning on whatever lamps still had batteries in them. Bellamy stood by the door, shrugging his backpack and watching her curiously.

"I can cook whatever food you brought if you're hungry. I found a lighter in one of the drawers and water is still being piped into the kitchens." Clarke exclaimed as she picked up a sketchbook off the coffee table and placed it upside down on a dresser.