Bellamy Fucking Blake {Bellarke Season 1 Fanfic}

Chapter 4

"You look terrible."

Bellamy nearly groaned out loud as he turned to face Clarke. "Good morning to you too, Princess."

It was probably true, even though he'd splashed cold water onto his face to make it look like he hadn't been crying, he hadn't bothered doing anything else like combing his hair with his fingers or washing his face.

"Octavia needs you, she said that you guys need to talk and to meet her behind the dropship," Clarke informed him, rolling her eyes at the familiar nickname. "And for the last time, don't call me that."

"Sure thing, Princess." Bellamy called behind him, already on his way to the dropship.

A kind of nervous dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Why did Octavia need him? He found her waiting exactly where Clarke said she would be, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently. "What's up?" he called, and she turned to face him.

"Oh, there you are. I've been waiting." Octavia crossed her arms in a way that he took to mean, 'let's cut to the chase.'

"So why do you need me?"

Octavia sighed, much louder than necessary, and kicked the dirt. "I'm going after Murphy."

Bellamy blinked. "No. You're staying at camp with the rest of us. Where you're safe. Where I can keep an eye out for you."

"I'm going, you can't stop me. I've already got all the supplies, and-"

"Then I'm coming with you."

Octavia turned to glare at him. "Bell! I can take care of myself," She snapped. "I don't need your protection anymore. It's not like up on the Ark."

"Exactly! Down here, it's way more dangerous. So it's either you let come with you or you don't go at all." Bellamy told her, his head was starting to hurt and even though he had no doubt that within a couple of hours it would be a full out migraine unless he stopped and rested the rest of the day, his sister still needed his protection. No matter what she said.

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Octavia threw her head back in resignation and he knew he had won. "Fine." She grumbled.

...

An hour later and they were set to leave. Bellamy met Octavia in front of the gate. "Before we go we need to plan where we're walking to." He said, if not just to break the silence.

"Well I was thinking, let's start with the place Clarke found you. Maybe we could trace your steps there and then slowly pan out and look for traces of blood?"

Bellamy nodded. "I don't exactly know where that is, let me go ask Clarke."

"I'll search here, you search there." She said, motioning to opposite sides of the camp. Bellamy jogged off in the direction of her tent. He opened the flap, and stumbled back. Immediately Finn, who had... who had been kissing Clarke? Jerked away from her. There was a moment of awkward silence. Clarke brushed a piece of hair from her face.

"... Do you need me?" She asked and Bellamy nodded mutely.

Clarke stepped out of her tent and a rush of jealousy towards Finn enveloped him, but he just exhaled and calmly explained to her where he and Octavia were going. Speak of the devil, Octavia saw them and ran up to them, putting a hand on Bellamy's shoulder. He could practically hear the smirk on her face as she said loudly: "Looks like the two lovebirds found each other!"

Just then Finn stepped out of the tent. Clarke's tent. Bellamy closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the understanding dawn on Octavia's face. "Let's just go," He hissed, eyes still shut. When nobody answered him, he opened his eyes. Finn and Octavia were in some sort of staring contest and Clarke was staring at the ground awkwardly. Bellamy cleared his throat. "I said, let's just go."

This seemed to snap Octavia out of her reverie and she grabbed Clarke's wrist in one hand and Bellamy's wrist in the other and dragged them both down to the gate and into the forest.

...

The forest really was beautiful this early on, and maybe Bellamy would've enjoyed it if Octavia hadn't been bugging him. When they'd gotten into the woods, Clarke had jerked her wrist out of Octavia's hand and rushed ahead, mumbling something about "leading the way."

But ever since Clarke had gotten out of earshot, Octavia had been assaulting him with questions like she was the police and he was a suspect or something. "- do you like her? I mean back there, you looked pretty pissed and even though I was just joking it actually seemed-"

"Shut up!" he snapped. Octavia did, and finally he got to enjoy the trees in peace.

Haha, if only.

Thoughts of Clarke filled his mind, and the same jealous feeling lingered. Bellamy reached up to rub his temples because the stupid headache was back.

"Over here!" He heard Clarke call out, and as soon as Octavia and Bellamy turned the corner, they stepped into a small clearing. Clarke motioned them over to a spot on the ground where dried flecks of blood were splattered.

"Is this where you found me?" He asked, but when he glanced up none of the trees looked familiar.

"No," Clarke confirmed gravely. "I think this blood is Murphy's."

...

"Try," Clarke pleaded. "Every detail helps."

Bellamy was sitting down on the forest floor, trying to remember what had happened that night. His memories were already blurred, but his headache was worsening by the minute and that made it even harder to concentrate. He gritted his teeth. If Clarke needed his help, then he was going to give it.

...

That night... Bellamy had gone to sleep early. He'd woken to something covering his face, someone trying to suffocate him, but he thrashed and kicked until his foot made contact with flesh and somebody grunted in pain. He vaguely remembered seeing Murphy scramble up from the floor, vaguely remembered being so fucking mad...

He'd tried to snap Murphy's neck but Murphy had grabbed the closest thing, a metal pole, and swung it at Bellamy's head. He'd blacked out.

When he woke up, he was being dragged in the middle of the woods. Murphy, who was dragging him, must've felt him tense up because he let go of Bellamy's leg. Bellamy had stood up, and the head injury throbbed but he ignored it. He'd turned to see Murphy pointing a gun at him, but he'd reached for it when Murphy shot, he ducked. He'd grabbed Murphy's hand and tore the gun from it, but Murphy started running and he couldn't get a clear shot through the trees.

Murphy had brought him to a dense spot in the woods, and it was hard to chase him. Eventually, his adrenaline ran out and he collapsed, the gun flying out of his hand into the underbrush and the blackness took over.