May We Meet Again - Bellarke -

Parallels

-Clarke-

I can't control the tears that continue to fall. After a long while I'm uncertain why I am crying. I cannot pinpoint a single cause, there are too many causes, too many reasons for my tears.

I feel so many emotions, that they overwhelm me and I can barely think straight. I feel guilt, sadness, fear, longing and loneliness. Each individual emotion demands to be acknowledged.

The last time I felt anything close to the way I feel now, was when I was in lock up on the arc. After I had recently learnt that the arc was running out of air. After my father had been floated for wanting to go public with the information. When I had believed it was my best friend who had turned him in.

I had felt scared, betrayed and alone then. I had stared at the confining walls of my cells and daydreamed I was somewhere else entirely. I had dreamt I was on the ground, feeling the sun on my skin and the cool breeze blowing through my hair.

I'd imagined strolling along a sandy beach and learning to swim in the ocean. Sea water tasted salty, that was what all the books and journals said. I had always imagined it tasting fresh not salty.

I had always imagined the ground to be a beautiful happier place. A place where I would hear calming sounds of gentle waves and wind, instead of the sounds of the growling generators that kept us in orbit.

I had never imagined the ground to be the way it is. I had never imagined living on the ground to be so tough, so dangerous, so difficult.

When I was trapped in that cell I'd daydreamed about the ground. Now that I was here, I dreamt I was back in the safety of my cell.

The confining cell walls were comforting as were the pictures I had drawn in black charcoal. I could picture my drawings in my mind. I could picture a simpler time, a time before all the death and destruction. I longed for that simpler time, for a safer time.

Nothing about my reality was simple or safe anymore. For I was still held captive in Mount Weather by Emerson. The restraints around my wrists were impossible to escape.

My head still ached from the blow with the butt of the rifle. My vision was still hazy, though I suspected this had as much to do with my tears as it had with my injury.

I was thirsty too. Unbelievably thirsty. I couldn't remember the last time I had drank. I couldn't remember how long I had been here, held by Emerson. A person can survive 3 days without water. Surely I hadn't been here for 3 days yet. Though the prospect of being trapped here for that amount of time seemed gravely likely.

Emerson seemed oblivious to my presence though. He was still sat up against the wall, cradling Josephine in his lap. He was no longer murmuring memories or cooing her name. Instead he was gazing down at her blank eyes while silently stroking back her hair tenderly. While I watched him a memory flooded through my mind.

One moment I had been walking through the woods beside Finn. The next moment I had been laying on the floor of the drop ship, with a terrible pain in my head. A pain similar to the pain I felt now. When I had opened my eyes I had seen Bellamy crouched closely before me.

His eyes had been wild with panic, his expression intense and fierce. His soothing fingers tenderly brushed through my hair as he murmured, "Clarke. You're gonna be fine. You just need to rest." His words were soft and laced with worry.

His innocent caring touch had sent a flutter of butterflies to awaken inside my stomach. I had wanted to believe those butterflies were actually just an effect of the bump on my head. I wanted to believe that Bellamy Blake was not actually giving me butterflies.

I remember how softly he brushed his fingers through my hair. I remember closing my eyes, focusing only on his touch. I remember for a long moment I had felt blissfully calm and content.

Despite everything that had been going on, for a moment or two Bellamy's caress had made me forget about everything else but him. For a moment or two my mind had been consumed by Bellamy Blake and his soothing touch.

Seeing Emerson with his Josephine made me think of Bellamy, made me think of Bellamy and I. He and I weren't lovers not like Emerson and Josephine were. Yet the more I watched them the more parallels there were between them and Bellamy and I.

The more I watched them the more I missed him. The more I watched them the more I realised what a huge mistake I'd made leaving camp, leaving him.

AN

Firstly sorry for the delayed update! It's been far too long since I last updated but I've broken up with my boyfriend and been finding it hard to concentrate on writing and such...

As always thank you so much for reading/voting/commenting.

xOxO