Counting Steps

~Deleted Chapter~

[Author's Note]: IMPORTANT. THIS IS NOT A NEW CHAPTER.
Okay, so now that that is cleared, this is actually a 'deleted' chapter. Chapter two, I think? Too lazy to check but yeah, I found it and oh man, I thought you might enjoy reading it whilst I finish up Chapter Nine, which is almost complete :) Its totally out of character like, really out of character, and its soo bad,  but oh well. Enjoy! :D

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 Clarke stared at him. She hadn’t looked him in the face in so long. His hair was still a curly mess, in his eyes and all, and his brown eyes were staring at her intently. She dropped her gaze and pretended to be very busy.

“I can’t talk right now, Bellamy. Monty’s obviously in severe condition and needs all the help he can get and this place is such a mess.”

“Clarke, stop.”

“No, I’ve got things to get done.” She began to push a medical bed to the other side of the tent. Bellamy stood and watched her, lips in a thin line.

She glanced over at him angrily. “If you plan on sticking around, you can at least help. If not, go away.”

“Clarke, we really need to talk.” He glanced around the tent, taking in the unorganized mess of it all. He situated his rifle to his back and began to help Clarke move the beds to where she instructed him to push them. They worked in silence; Clarke pointing and Bellamy pushing. He grunted now and then unhappily but mostly kept his comments to himself.

Finished, Bellamy sat on one of the beds and watched Clarke work in silence. She moved around the tent, setting a small table beside each of the beds. On top of each, she set a metal pan with various tools. 

“Clarke.” He whispered.

“Stop that. You’re pissing me off,” She snapped, turning on him. He stood and Clarke made her way to him, very slowly. Under her breath, he could’ve sworn he heard her counting. “Just stop it.”

When she was finally in front of him, Bellamy didn’t know what he wanted to say anymore. She was radiating anger. He had forced himself to give her the space she needed, but it’d been months now and he was worried about her. Everyone was. No one else had the nerve to push Clarke like he did. So here he was.

“Clarke,” He started again, unsure of what he wanted to say. Then Clarke lost all of her self-control and Bellamy was tackled to the ground, Clarke resting on top of him.

“I said stop that, Bellamy! Stop it!” She hit him repeatedly with her fists, taking out all the anger she had kept inside all these months. “How dare you look at me like that, like I’m some broken china that can’t be fixed, how dare you,” She choked.

“Clarke! Clarke, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” He grabbed at her wrists and she struggled against him for a few seconds before crumbling into his chest. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her. She sobbed silently into his shirt, her whole body quivering against him. His heart broke. He hesitantly stroked her hair back from her face, “Brave, Princess.”

Another sob erupted from Clarke and Bellamy held her tighter, wishing he could hold her tight enough to put all of her broken pieces back together.

“You’re right, you’re not broken, Clarke. You’re not a piece of fragile china that cannot be fixed.” 

She quieted at this and Bellamy sighed. “Do you know why I started ignoring you and everyone else, Bellamy?” Clarke mumbled into his shirt. She was still nestled into his chest.

“No,” He replied honestly. “But I’ve got an idea.”

Clarke cleared her throat and sat up. She stood and wiped at her eyes which were now red and puffy like Jasper’s had been. Bellamy remained sitting on the floor, looking up at her. He was so awe-stricken by the girl in front of him. She never ceased to amaze him.

“It’s because everyone stares at me like I’m broken. Pity stares. I do not want their pity.”

Bellamy stayed silent. “You stared at me with pity, you know. You of all people, Bellamy; how could you do that to me? I needed you.”

Bellamy was at a loss of words. He was heartbroken for her, he knew that, but he hadn’t known it showed. “I…Clarke, I do not pity you.” He stood up to meet her eyes.

“Liar.” She muttered, turning away from him.

Bellamy reached out and grabbed her wrist, twisting her back towards him. He held her wrists firmly in his hands, demanding her attention.

 “I do not pity you, Clarke Griffin. I only wish that I could’ve gone and done the nasty deed myself. I hate myself for not offering. I knew you wouldn’t kill their leader like Raven wanted you to. You saw the bigger picture, the picture bigger than Finn’s life. I knew—know— you well enough to know what you were going to do—what you had to do— I should have at least gone with you or, or something.”

Clarke stared down at her shoes. “They wouldn’t have let us anywhere near him if I’d allowed you to come with me.” She whispered.

He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her into a tight embrace. “Maybe not, but I would have at least been there for you. I’m sorry I have not been there for you.”

She accepted the hug and returned it willingly. “It’s okay. I missed you, really. Can I cut your bangs yet?” She smiled.

He gave her his trademark smirk. “Still getting to you?”

She groaned in a joking manner. “Always.”

“Then…no.”

“Bellamy, please? They’re dangerous and you can’t see properly.”

“I happen to see just fine, but thanks for worrying about me, Princess.”

Clarke slapped his arm. “Seriously, you’re going to go to bed one of these nights and I’m gonna sneak into your tent wi—”

“Oh? Is that a threat or a promise?” He smirked.

“Bellamy!” She laughed. “You didn’t even let me finish. I’m gonna sneak into your tent with scissors and cut off your bangs.”

Bellamy just laughed. “I’ll take that as a bark with no bite.”

“Oh no, it’s a promise. Watch me, Blake.”

“Trust me,” He said. “I am."