Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She’s running - fast, faster than she’s probably ever run before - through the thick of the woods. Small branches keep scratching her face, but she ignores the blood gathering at her neck. At least, she does for now. Once she’s in safe quarters again, she’ll clean it. She was a doctor, after all.

Or almost one.

But that was a past life. For now, she runs, boots crushing forgotten skulls of her fallen enemies - or allies maybe? - and sword swinging in tune with her arms. A small voice inside of her whispers to her that she will survive this battle, just like she has countless times before. Another voice reminds her this time she is alone. No Raven. No Mom. Or Kane, or Octavia, or Indra or…

Or Lexa. Or Bellamy. Just Clarke.

She swallows deeply and shakes her head, her matted hair hitting the new cuts, but she doesn’t wince. Instead, she climbs into a cave opening, an underground tunnel that used to once be a sewer system before the bombing.

But of course, they’re there already.

Sometimes she wishes she was still fighting the Grounders. They were savages. They fought with their anger and not their wits. She wouldn’t let herself get outsmarted by them again. But no, she wasn’t fighting them. Even the Mountain Men just wanted to continue the survival of their own people - a group she killed, every, single, last one of them, including the innocent - but she understood them. She wanted the same, after all. But this enemy? She couldn’t even hit.
The woman in front of her is dressed in a tight-fitting red dress, her hair curled perfectly to the side of her neck. Clarke slows down in front of her, staring with disbelief. Even after having met once before, she’s still taken aback by how out of place The Woman looks, like she belongs in a movie and not out on a battlefield.

“Clarke.” The Woman says, nodding. “We meet again.” Clarke raises her sword in front of her; The Woman cannot feel the blade, but her soldiers sure can. Although with soldiers outnumbering her eight to one, Clarke doesn’t feel as confident as she did before. Still, her sword doesn’t waver.

“What do you want from me?” she yells, almost growls. Her voice is raspy and hoarse. She hasn’t spoken in a long time. “How do you even know my name?”

“I learned it a long time ago, Clarke. If you had only given me a chance to explain last time, but you left before we had a chance to talk - and now…” The Woman looks around with displeasure. “We could have had better surroundings.” She mocks, almost sarcastically.

Clarke grips her weapon. The last time, they did not talk. No, Clarke had leaped into battle mode, swinging her sword at the woman as soon as she saw the guns her soldiers had, and the sword swung straight through her. Her image had flickered for a second, and then The Woman was exactly the same as she was before. The Woman wasn’t there - only her image was.

The Woman was a hologram.

Just Clarke’s luck, if she was being honest with herself. Makes sense her next enemy would be invincible. “Sorry. I would have brought out my good China but you didn’t give me a chance to get settled.” she answers snidely, eyes narrowed.

The Woman laughs. “Well, my apologies then. I do hope you don’t take offense to my dropping in.”

“Not at all. Your soldiers, however? I could do without.” Clarke nods at the men, all with guns poised at her head. The Woman looks around before nodding at one of them. They simultaneously lower their weapons, retreating to the side and leaving the women alone. Clarke puts away her sword; it serves no use against an image. “Thank you.” The Woman nods, her hands clasped in front of her. “Now what is it you wanted to talk about?”

“The past, Clarke Griffin.” The Woman replies.

“Nothing I can do to change it.” Clarke shrugs, her face serious. “And I can’t dwell on it any longer. If that was all…” Clarke gives her a fake smile. Even down in the sewers, the smile makes her think of the Ark, reminds her of a time she did it all the time.

“Clarke.” The Woman repeats her name, almost as an order. The younger girl pauses, half turned away. “We did it. We found a way. We can change the past.”

Clarke turns back towards her, confusion and anger on her face. “What does that even mean?” She screams it because fuck it, if she’s not tired of lies and dead ends.

“We found an algorithm. There are scientist all over, across the planet, still working to reverse the effects. We can’t show our faces, or the radiation will kill us, but we are working together, Clarke.”

She rolls her eyes. “Wear oxygen tanks and hazmat suits. Worked for Mount Weather.” Clarke lies. Probably best not to mention the bone marrow, she thinks to herself. What if that’s why The Woman wants her? To lead her to the Ark, to kill them?

How could you let this happen?

“I won’t let you kill them!” Clarke yells, her sword out in front of her again. Her legs brace themselves for impact. She doesn’t know if the soldiers heard her, but if they did, she’s ready to kill them, if it means Jasper and Bellamy wake up tomorrow.

“No, no, Clarke, you misunderstand me.” The Woman shakes her head. “We don’t want to kill the survivors. We want to save them.” She walks through a section of the sewer tunnel, stopping next to the blonde warrior. “For a hundred years, we’ve studied the works of our forefathers, of the science they left behind, and this year we found something. A way to bring a conscience back in time, but regain their memories.”

Clarke blinks. “Time travel? You’re talking about time travel?” She starts to laugh. “Fuck, I need a drink. Excuse me, will you?” She shakes her head, waving The Woman off. She starts going towards the entrance of the sewer when the hologram appears in front of her.

“It’s the truth. We tried sending one of our own back before the bombing, so he could warn everyone of the devastation, but…”

Clarke raises her eyebrows mockingly. “But it didn’t work? Yeah. Sounds about right.”

“No, it didn’t, but not because we were wrong with the science, but because there was nowhere for his conscience to go. His body did not exist back then, a factor we understood but hoped would not interfere. We were wrong.”

Clarke can only stare at The Woman, her lips pursed and eyes tired. “Look, whatever mind game you’re trying to pull, it won’t work. Besides, I wasn’t alive then either, so…” she shrugs exaggeratedly, with an oh, well face on.

“No, you weren’t. But,” The Woman starts, her voice loud and angry. “You were on a spaceship. Time doesn’t work the same in space. The stars we see down on Earth have been dead for millions of years. The Sun could have died a billion years ago, and we wouldn’t know because to us, we still see it intact. Your ship is still up there, replaying the same scenes over and over, ending with you crashing here every time.”

Clarke gapes at her, her eyes wide and filled with angry amusement. “You’re completely insane. Are you sure the radiation isn’t already affecting you?”
“Wormholes were proven long before the bombings, Clarke.” The Woman seems to have regain her emotions. She flattens her dress before smiling at the girl.

“You don’t need to believe me nor understand the science, but you will go and you will help us.”

At this, hands surround her biceps and her sword is dropped to the ground. Clarke screams, squirming and struggling against the soldiers but they are stronger than her, carrying her. Not to be outdone, she does manage to hit one soldier in the eye with her elbow and another in the throat with a well timed kick, but then one of them takes the butt of his gun and hits her in the head, knocking her out.

-

When she wakes, she’s inside what looks like a hospital room, strapped to a gurney. She pulls on binds around her wrists and legs, but she’s bound too tightly to move. Looking around, she’s notices a guard standing watch. A black tribal tattoo can be seen traveling up his neck, but he lacks the hair she was used to seeing on a Grounder. “Remarkable, isn’t it?”

Clarke turns to her right instantly, once again struggling wildly at the restraints. “I will kill you, you bitch! Let me go!” She screams, almost flipping the gurney over.

The Woman pays her no mind, simply turning to the guard. “A group of them somehow managed to wonder over to us, but after we talked to them, we made them understand that we should work together. They help us. We help them.” The Woman says, nodding at the man. Clarke looks at him closer, ceasing her struggle. His eyes are blank as he nods back.

“A Grounder would never work with you. Not willingly.” She grits her teeth, swallowing hard. The Woman pauses.

“No. They did need some persuasion, but I think it turned out for the best. I get soldiers, they get beds. I think it’s a good trade.” The Woman claps her hand, turning back to Clarke. “Regardless, we have to go over your mission.”

“My mission?” Clarke shakes her head, laughing before spiting at her. The spit flies through the hologram, but The Woman raises her eyebrow anyway. “Fuck your mission.”

“And here I would have thought you would be more civilized, Clarke of the Sky People.” she reprimands with a scoff. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is for you to stop what has happened. You must go back and change our history.” The Woman pretends to sit down on Clarke’s makeshift bed. For a second, Clarke believes she’s really there, but then The Woman’s hand glides through the gurney and she sees that her legs are not truly touching anything, only hovering.

“And how am I going to do that? With science fiction? This isn’t a comic book!”

“No, Clarke. This is real life.” The Woman looks away towards the brain-washed Grounder, almost sadly. “You came to the wrong side of the Earth. We need you to go back and convince your leader to land on the west coast of this land in what used to be California, but is now called Safe Haven. It’s where our facilities lie.”

Clarke breathed out, closing her eyes and resting back onto the gurney. This was going nowhere.

“We need you to talk to your leader. We have a list of supplies we need and in return we can offer safe passage. The land we reside on tore away from the mainland and thus there are no Grounders for hundreds of miles. The clans don’t reach that far and neither do the Haunted.”

Clarke sighed, half in disbelief, half in discomfort. “The Haunted?”

The Woman hesitated. “A lot of people survived the bombs, Clarke, and they all have different names, but like I said, no one bothers us. We have hundreds of miles to ourselves, and with the Sky People coming down, we can rebuild without the terror of radiation.”

“Right.” Clarke nods, throwing her head back down on the gurney. “Can you do me a favor? Just kill me already? This bullshit is actually making me want to commit suicide.”

“The Ark landed on the wrong side of the country, Clarke.” The Woman repeats, anger seeping into her voice. “We just need you to land in Safe Haven. We need you to bring your technology and help us rebuild. We can’t take back the bombings, but we can do something about our future with your help!”

“Why not just ask the Ark to travel to California?” Clarke asks, eyes shut. Inwardly, she’s thinking about how to escape. Maybe if she says something in Trigedasleng, the guard will snap out of his daze.

“There are dozens upon dozens of savages across the land. Cannibals, murderers. That, and half the land has been taken over by the sea. It would take years to trek the country, and that’s not taking into account winter and the death it brings. There’s also the fact that we need the technology abroad the Ark - most of which was destroyed when it landed. No, you need to go back. You are the only one that can change history.”

“Sis au ai.” Clarke begs, turning to the Grounder. “Help me.” She repeats in English this time. The man doesn’t move. The Woman sighs, standing up.

“He doesn’t understand you or that language anymore, Clarke. We are the good guys, Clarke. Trust me.”

Clarke laughs bitterly. “There are no good guys.”

The Woman purses her lips. “There are, and we are them. Remember, Clarke. Safe Haven, or California if you prefer. Convince your people to land there, and bring your technology, please. We can move forward on Earth, but only with your help. All those deaths caused by Grounders, caused by the Mountain Men - they can be reversed. They can be forgiven.”

Clarke glares at her, her heart feeling the pain of all those deaths - the deaths she can never forget. “I will kill you.” she promises. “Even if I have to go to Safe Haven myself and tear you apart.”

The Woman sighs. “Oh, Clarke.” Suddenly, she turns away and nods at the guard. She turns back to Clarke one last time. “May we meet again.” She says before fading away. At that Clarke starts struggling again, begging in both Grounder language and English for the guard to understand me.

“Help, please. Lexa, your commander, is my friend!” Clarke lies and begs as he moves closer. His uniform is tight across his muscles, looking more like a bodybuilder than a solider. She doesn’t know why she didn’t realize it before that the soldiers were actually Grounders, but the tattoos are undeniable. “Please. I’ll take you back to Indra.” she tries one last time.

The Grounder ignores her, picking up a syringe off the counter. Clarke blows air out of her mouth angrily. She didn’t survive so much to die here, at the mercy of a fucking hologram - but in the end, she can do nothing about it except scream as he sticks her with the needle, pushing in a sedative. Darkness comes quickly, even with her struggle to stay conscious, and the next thing she knows, she's waking up - gasping and screaming - in a comfy bed surrounded by pink covers and a stuffed teddy bear.

“Honey! Clarke, what’s wrong?”

She screams louder, her hands gripping the bedding as she stares up in shock and horror at the man who just had rushed into the room.

It’s her father.

Chapter Text

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

Jake Griffin may have had died two years ago, but Clarke still remembers his voice - and although it sounds exactly like her memories - she refuses to believe her father is in front of her. He can’t be. Instead, she backs up, her plush socks pushing against the pink comforter in her desperate attempt to get away from his outstretched hand. Jake - or the hologram pretending to be him - shrinks back, in hurt, in confusion, and calls out, “Abby! Come in here!”

Clarke stares at the image of her father, and her eyes darken with anger. How dare these bastards conjure up the image of her dead father to try to convince her to take an impossible journey? Looking around for a weapon, she settles on a small ceramic lamp with flowers painted on the side. She ignores the similarities the lamp has with one her mother and she made together back on the Ark and grabs it with a tight fist, and throws it with all her might towards her so-called father.

But instead of soaring straight through him - and instead of throwing it far - the lamp hits him on his gut, barely making him move backwards. Instead, he steps back in shock, gasping as the ceramic lamp hits the floor and breaks. Her eyes widen and she looks at her hands. She has no strength.

A voice inside wonders if she’s drugged, whilst another reminds her she only became strong on Earth, not before.

“Clarke!”

Looking at her hands, she stares at the grey paint that adorns her nails. She immediately starts to scrub at the paint. Is it a hallucinogen?, she panics, but no amount of rubbing takes off the paint.

She starts to cry again; she can’t help it.

Suddenly, she feels a hand on her shoulder and the air smells like her mother. Looking up, Abby Griffin is staring at her with shock and concern. Her mother’s eyes remind her of the missile at Tondc, and it reminds her of her sins. “No!” She screams, because all she can think of is the hatred her mother’s eyes had the last time she looked at Clarke. “Don’t touch me, you son of a bitch!”

The woman pretending to be her mother looks completely taken aback and lets Clarke escape her touch. The younger girl heaves herself backwards until she’s flat against the wall, but something on the left of her catches her eyes. In the background she hears them speak - I don't know what’s going on, Abby. She was screaming bloody murder and then she threw a lamp at me. I don’t know what’s wrong with her… - but their words don’t register.
All she can focus on is the uncovered window next to her bed; from memory, she knows she’s staring at the center of the Ark. Moving closer, she sees the ship - her home for so many years - in space, the lights of stars illuminating every inch of it. In the distance, beyond the starlight, beyond the moon, she sees a green and blue planet, slowly spinning millions of miles away from her.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

She goes for the attack, angry and confused and crying, but she’s no match for her father, who holds her down. “Clarke, baby. Please, it’s me. It’s your dad.” He keeps telling her as he wrestles her down. She tries to remember the fighting lessons Bellamy taught her but her strength is nonexistent, so she can only scream and kick desperately.

Eventually, her mother - or whoever - sticks her with a needle, and the world goes black once again.

—

When her eyes flutter open, she feels exhausted. The room is now black but she can feel someone else on the bed next to her. Her mouth is dry, like she’s been drugged - probably a sedative - and meekly rolls off the bed, landing on the floor with an, “umph”.

“Clarke!”

From the floor, she groans but uses the last of her strength to push herself up until she can face the bed. Her mother is looking at her with such concern that it makes Clarke pause. “Hey, honey.” Abby says softly. She’s against the wall, although hunched forward now, and looks like she’s been there the entire time she was asleep. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

Clarke moves towards her carefully, her knee hitting the bed first. “Mom?” She whispers, her eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s just me, Clarke.” Abby reaffirms, shuffling forward so she can grab Clarke’s hand. The blonde stares at the intertwined fingers before looking back up. When she does, she notices the window again and abruptly lets go off the woman’s hand. “Clarke?” Abby says, hurt.

“S-sorry.” Clarke stutters, her eyes wide. “I’m just not feeling well.” She says. In her mind, she’s trying to find a solution, but she sees none. She sits down, her back straight, and stares directly ahead of her. Her hands make a fist in her lap, grey nails digging into her palm.

“Darling…” Abby sounds bewildered and her hand goes on Clarke’s lap, wrapping it around her fist.

Clarke thinks quickly, the sedative finally clearing a little. This is a trick, she reminds herself. This isn’t my mother. These are the scientists. If they have the technology to create holograms, then they have the ability to make her think this is real - that she’s in space and not down on Earth, on home.

But…

If she wants to escape, obviously it’s not with strength or violence; she’ll need to be smart about this. Scientists just want results, and they want cooperation - and she can do that. Plastering a fake smile on - the same one she used to give her mom back on the Ark after her dad died - she turned to the woman. “I think I had a nightmare this morning.”

Her mother snorts, not unkindly. “You’re telling me.” She reaches forward and Clarke tightens her fists, but the older woman only runs her hand down Clarke’s hair. “You scared us. We didn’t know what was going on.”

“I think it was a panic attack.” Clarke says, her brain spitting out an answer for her. “I feel better now.”

Abby looks at her critically. “Well, forgive me if I don’t quite believe you yet.” She pats Clarke’s hand before standing up. “I’m going to make soup. You’re taking the night off. If this is because of the internship…” She trails off, looking slightly ashamed. “You’ve been putting so much pressure on yourself lately, Clarke. You’re going to be a great doctor one day.”

Clarke laughs weakly. “Yeah, I know.” she says darkly. Her fists are still tight on her lap.

Her mother looks a little stunned. “So, you don’t have to panic about it.”

The blonde’s eyes widen. “You’re right, but…” She struggles for a second. “But it’s just hard. I know I can be good, but I don’t know if I will be. I guess that’s why I had that episode this morning.” She swallows hard. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Abby shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. What happened this morning was unfortunate, but you’re okay and that’s what’s important. I love you, sweetie.” She smiles at her, patting her cheek, before walking out the door.

Clarke breathes out deeply, relaxing for a second before looking around her room. There has to be a weapon somewhere, she thinks to herself. Standing, she moans at the pain traveling up her body. Whatever those scientists did, they fucked up her back. Stopping at her desk - how did they know she used to keep her pencils in alphabetic order based on color? - she noticed the ceramic lamp was left on it. Picking up a broken piece of glass, she slips it under her sleeve, and suddenly, she’s thinking of Finn. Swallowing back her emotions, she turns towards the window again and stares at Earth wordlessly.

Later when Abby returns with the soup, Clarke only eats a couple spoonfuls before falling asleep again, the comfortable bed feeling akin to heaven on her tired body.

—

The next time she wakes up, she’s alone. Immediately looking out the window, she sees that all the lights on the other side of the ship are dim. The circadian lights used to control day and night back on the Ark, and it seems like the scientists remembered that fact in this hallucination they are making her have.

Slowly she sits up, but the discomfort from before has faded and instead she feels revitalized. Quietly, she goes to the closet, taking out jeans and a black hoodie - clothes her mother hated she wore back when she was a child - but they make her feel more like herself than putting on one of the dresses that are hung up. She walks out of her room carefully, her eyes flickering automatically to the mantle where the clock hung.
It was dinner time for the Ark.

Or at least, it would be if this was real, she tells herself. Taking a deep breath, she grabs an apple from the table and stuffs it in her hoodie. She walks to the front door, pausing when she hears voices. Her parents are in their lab, and Clarke takes the opportunity to walk out the front door.

Putting the hoodie up, she walks with her head down through what she remembers is Phoenix but is now called Alpha. Around her people she either recognizes - Mr. Miller and is that Wick? - and people she’s never seen before walk around her as they go towards the cafeteria. She doesn’t see any of the hundred. Most of them would be locked up, she realizes, but not all.

Not Wells.

He would be alive if this was real. He would be with his father, probably playing chess by the artificial fire.

Finn would be alive. Hell, Sterling and Roma, too.

Charlotte.

Clarke pauses, taking a deep breath. Someone bumps into her and she grabs the wall to maintain her balance. Looking up, she sees an asian kid give her an informal two finger salute and apologize quickly, with a light smile on his face. He turns around swiftly, eager for dinner.

She feels dizzy all of a sudden. This is fake, she tells herself. This isn’t real, she screams at herself. Monty is back at the Ark, safe and sound; that isn’t really him.

But what if it is?

What if that’s really Monty, a month before his arrest?

Clarke starts walking again, trying to time her breathing with her steps. If that’s Monty, if Finn and Wells and Charlotte are alive, then that means everyone is still alive.

She enters Arcadia accidentally. She meant to have gone to Wells, just to see if he would really be there, but she takes a left instead.
Phoenix was the richer side of the Ark back when it existed, but Arcadia was the slums. Although not decrepit or falling apart, there were areas that were off limits because oxygen was cut off - forcing families to live together for longer. There was no mobility in there, but the people of Arcadia were hard working and tough. They were given the least amount of help and the most amount of judgement.

Clarke wasn’t allowed there when she lived in the Ark. Abby and Jake told her to stay out of that sector; everything she needed was in Phoenix.

Everything, except Bellamy.

She walks aimlessly for a while to the point where people are filtering back from dinner and back into their apartments. Finally, bravely, she stops someone. She doesn’t recognize him. He has a beard and thin hair. His name tag says Lemkin. “Hi, sorry.” Clarke clears her throat. The older man stops, looking at her expectedly but kindly. “Do you know where Bellamy Blake lives? I think he works as maintenance.”

Lemkin looks at her weirdly. “As maintenance? No.” Clarke sighs, her heart dropping. “But I know a cadet with that name. Aurora’s son?”

Clarke takes a deep intake of breath. “Yes, sorry, that’s right.” She laughs nervously. “Sorry, I forgot.” Lemkin gives her another strange look but doesn’t comment. Instead, he shows her which apartment is his. Clarke nods at him, keeping her chin up, “Thank you.”

The man shrugs and continues walking. Once the corridor is empty, Clarke goes to the door. She doesn’t think that Bellamy won’t know her. After all, if it is a hallucination, then her mind will force him to know her. She knocks with her knuckles twice and then puts her hands in her hoodie. The apple is still there.

There is noise inside, although it’s not loud - muffled voices and movement. It takes her a second, but then Clarke realizes. Taking a deep breath, she almost leaves - what if Aurora answers? She would still be alive… - but then the door opens a little.

And there he is.

“Can I help you?”

Her eyes widen. She hasn’t heard his voice in months, and although he looks younger - much younger, like a kid - his voice is the same deep tone she’s used to. His eyes are guarded, but he looks innocent, naive even. It takes her voice away.

“Um…?” He raises an eyebrow. “If you’re just here to stare at me, Princess, I really have better things to do.” He crosses his arms, blocking the view of the apartment. Clarke feels cold and warm at the same time and shivers run up her arms. She feels like screaming.

Bellamy sighs and goes to close the door.

In a panic, she tries to find something that will make him trust her, or at the very least, speak to her. “I know about Octavia.”

The shift in air is noticeable as his eyes widen in horror. Clarke winces, realizing that probably wasn’t the best thing to say. She opens her mouth to reassure him that she won’t say anything, but before she can, he pulls her inside his apartment roughly.

She gasps at the sudden movement and even more so at the pain radiating from her arm. He is gripping her arm hard enough to leave bruises. Maybe because of the drug her mother - or the scientist, rather - gave her earlier, or maybe because she’s hallucinating and thus more weak than normal, but she feels fragile in this body. Her face was once sliced open multiple times; she’s been knocked out; she’s almost died from the flu; but somehow, his fingers around her arm hurt just as much.

“Whatever you think you’re talking about, you’re wrong.” He growls in between gritted teeth. If she didn’t know him - him, Bellamy, the boy who couldn’t kill Atom, the boy who saved her life with one hand, the boy who shook besides her as she talked to the Chancellor on a computer screen, the boy who held her hand as they killed three hundred people - then she would have been scared at the look in his eyes, but she does know him, and the only one who’s scared is him.

Is this real? Holy shit, is this real? Is she back on the Ark? Is this Bellamy before he was arrested, before his mother was floated? Was this before her father was arrested, before he was floated?

Exhaling a sob, she says, “Sorry.” because she doesn’t know what to say, and she’s never technically apologized to him about the missile at Tondc. “I’m so sorry.”

He gives her a confused look, his eyes narrowing but softening. His fingers loosen their grip and she tries not to cry. Her hands shake as she reaches in her hoodie, pulling out the apple. His eyes widen.

She wonders if he’s ever seen an apple. They cost 7 units a piece, probably one of the rarest and most expensive fruits on the Ark, but her mother used to get them for free, sometimes throwing them out because Jake and Clarke didn’t like them. “Here. For Octavia.” she says, shoving it in his chest.

He takes a sharp breath, looking at her like she’s a monster. She takes a step back before running out the door. “Wait!” he screams after her, but she’s quick, escaping his grasp easily. Tears sting her eyes. “Stop.” he orders, but she doesn’t - because she never really followed his commands, so why start now?

Instead, they race all the way to Phoenix, where she easily goes past the guards, but he is stopped. She pauses long enough to hear him being asked why he’s so far from Arcadia but leaves before he can answer.

Slowing down, she breathes in and out a couple times to regulate her heartbeat. Pushing down her hood, she walks into her apartment, where her mother and father are sitting with Chancellor Jaha. They all look relieved at the sight of her. “Clarke, honey.” Her mother says, sighing deeply and engulfing her into a hug.

She smells like home.

Clarke can’t help but hug her back. “I’m sorry. I just needed some air.”

“God, Clarke. You scared the hell out of us. First, this morning, and now disappearing like that?” Abby scolds her. Clarke only nods, because she’s not sure she’s looking at a scientist or her mother right now and she doesn’t know what to say.

Jaha comes close. “You okay, Clarke?” He asks, clasping a hand on her upper arm. She doesn’t wince as he squeezes around the bruises that were just created by Bellamy, but instead, nods at him.

“Yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I guess, I’m a little stressed from the clinic.” she lies, swallowing deeply. Abby shakes her head, sighing, but Jaha nods, as if he understood.

“It’s a stressful time, Clarke. You’re choosing what you’re going to be for the rest of your life, and you’ve barely lived long enough to have that experience. Hell, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.” He jokes with a wistful smile on.

Clarke tries not to picture his face bashed in, like the last time she saw him, and laughs meekly. Abby turns to Jaha. “Thank you for coming, Thelonious. I’m just glad we didn’t send any guards out.” Her mother says pointedly, giving Clarke a look. She walks the Chancellor out.

Jake Griffin had been silent throughout the exchange, and Clarke only looks at him now. He looks the same as he always did - with floppy hair and a timid smile. She can’t help but jump into his arms. “Oh, baby.” he hugs her tightly, and she shakes. “That was some throw this morning. What happened?”

Clarke swallows and pulls back. “I don't know. I just lost it. I’m sorry.”

Is this real? Can this be real? Have they managed to send her back in time?

Jake sighs but gives her a smile, putting his arm around her. His fingers squeeze her arm in the same place the Chancellor had, in the same place Bellamy had. “It’s okay, baby. It’s not the first time a Griffin woman has thrown something at me, probably won’t be the last.”

She laughs, because it’s her dad. It looks like him, and it smells like him, and he’s making the same shitty jokes he’s always done. She kisses his cheek, and he ruffles her hair. “Come on. Let me tuck you in, even though you’re way to old for that and you don’t need to be tucked in.” He says, as if she denies him every night with that excuse. Maybe she used to. She doesn’t now.

They go to her room, and she goes into bed - jeans and hoodie and all - and lets him put the covers over her. “Dad, please stay.” she chokes out when he kisses her forehead. Jakes smiles at her before sitting down on her bed.

“Look, right there, you threw a lamp at me.” he says, pointing at the empty space in front of him. Clarke laughs, shaking her head.

“You’ll never let that go, will you?”

“Not for as long as I live.” Jake huffs, and Clarke’s heart hurts again. “My perfect, sweet, angel of a daughter threw a lamp at me!” He says, scandalized. They’re quiet for a second. “You know, honey, if the clinic is too much for you, that’ll be okay. You can go into regular schooling and the internship can be put off till next year. There’s still time. You’re young.”

Clarke closes her eyes and shakes her head. “No, I need to learn all I can.” She whispers.

Jake nods. “Okay, kiddo.” he squeezes her leg. “I’ll let you sleep. You’ve had a trying day.” He smiles at her, and she feels him slipping away.

“Wait, dad!” She says, and it sounds like she’s begging. Jake’s eyebrows furrow and he looks concerned. Clarke takes a deep breath. “Before you go…” she starts, looking for a subject, any subject to ask him, to keep him here, before she realizes exactly what to ask. “Can I ask you something strange?” Jake’s eyebrows shoot up, and he gives her an incredulous smile and a shrug. “What do you know about time travel?”

Chapter Text

On Earth, Clarke’s morning routine usually consisted of making sure she was still alive, her limbs were still attached and her knife was still in her hand. Sometimes, she killed panthers to trade with the local Grounders for food or water, sometimes she hunted for Lexa, and sometimes she didn’t move at all until she was literally starving. She hardly bathed, hardly cared about physical appearances, hardly did anything for her health.

But now, she’s apparently back on the Ark - the one that’s still floating in space, not the one her mother’s chancellor of - and her image is reflected back to her in her bathroom. Her hair on Earth was curly and ruined because of the humidity and because of the makeshift red dye she had put in it, but now, she’s blonde again, her hair wavy and long, falling past her shoulders. The image in the mirror isn’t her, she knows this, but it looks like who she used to be and nothing like who she is now.

There’s barely anything hard or rough in this body - not her muscles or her legs or her strength - and there are no physical scars either.

Yet when she runs her fingers over her arm, for just a second, she can still feel the stitches Maya wove into her skin there.

She steps into the shower after a long look in the mirror, turning the knobs with enough familiarity. The water is warm on her skin, causing it to go from pale white to blotchy, angry red, but it feels like home, so she stays under the fall for what feels like an eternity.

There she thinks about the conversation she had with her father the night before.

“What do you know about time travel?”

Jake’s eyebrows had went up, his forehead crinkling and making him look older. “Not much. I’m no Stephen Hawking.” He joked, but at Clarke’s confusion, explained, “He was the first scientist to really put time travel on the map. Of course, it was dreamed up for years beforehand, but he put science to it. Made it seem possible, if not theoretical. But it took many years after his findings for wormholes to be actually proven.”

“So why hasn’t anyone traveled back in time to stop the bombs? If it’s possible, why hasn’t it been done?” Clarke had asked, desperately, accusingly.

Jake had looked at her in slight shock. “The scientists who were working on time travel weren’t among the nations saved. They believed they could change the world, but the nations knew the world was about to be destroyed. They saved as many people as they could, but they weren’t going to save anyone who didn’t want to be saved.”

“So, those scientists were left to die?”

Jake looked hurt for a moment. “Well, it wasn’t my decision, honey. This all happened before I was born.” He took a deep sigh. “But yes, they were left on Earth, and their findings were all but forgotten. Time travel, although then possible, wasn’t a reality anyone believed in. People couldn’t hope for a savior; we had to save ourselves, Clarke.”

“The things we do to survive don’t define us.” she had said in response, closing her eyes. She had understood; killing all of Mount Weather was easier than letting her people be tortured and killed.

Jake did not speak for a long time, eventually taking another deep breath. “Exactly, although I’m sure now, more than ever, the higher ups wished they had saved those findings.” He said, a bitter tone to his voice - as if he wasn’t one of the higher ups himself.

She knows why, of course; the Ark is dying and it’s their fault. She was sent to a time before the hundred were sent to the ground, to a time before her father was floated, to a time before her voice couldn’t change anything at all.

Clarke is completely and utterly powerless here.

“What happened to your braid?” her mother asks her when Clarke meets her after her shower. Abby runs her fingers through Clarke’s hair. “I like it up.”

“Well, I don’t.” Clarke snaps, because right now all she can think about is that her father’s going to floated in three months. Abby’s eyes widened in shock and a little bit of anger, and Clarke remembers that this woman - the one in front of her - still hasn’t sent her husband to be murdered. “Sorry.” she mumbles, her fingers going up to her hair, already twisting the locks into place.

Abby nods, her lips pursed and eyes colder than usual. She waits until Clarke finishes braiding her hair and then she leads them out of Phoenix, the younger girl following a couple steps behind.

—

At lunch time, Clarke goes to the Mess Hall with everyone else. She had spent the entire morning in Earth Skills, listening carefully to every word Professor Pike had said. He was wrong in some things - claiming the bombs wiped out mountains and killed every animal that ever existed - but he was correct in many others - fire kills oxygen, rain water is safe to drink, plants will grow again. She took diligent notes throughout the class, focusing only on his words, and when the class moved to leave, she realized Harper and Monroe were there too.

She almost went to them, but as soon as they turned her way, their eyes looked passed her and walked away. They didn’t know her. At least, not in the way she knew them.

Sighing, she makes her way to the women serving the rations, waiting until it’s her turn. “Miss Griffin, you know you can always come up front. You don’t have to make the line.” The lady serving tells her, wearing a kind smile. Clarke pauses, her mind trying to put a name to the face, but she doesn’t remember it.

“That’s okay.” she says instead. “I’m okay.” Clarke clears her throat at the lunch lady’s frown, and takes the plate from her, thanking her.

“Of course, my dear. There’s a little something there, just for you. Thank your mother again for me, Clarke.” The lady smiles warmly, and Clarke nods, not trusting herself to speak. As she walks away, she wishes she could remember the woman’s name, but her mind comes up blank.

She walks until she realizes she doesn’t know where she’s going. Back on the Ark, she would sit with Wells - Wells, she still hasn’t seen him! - or would go back to the infirmary to eat. She almost does do just that, until she spots two boys eating in the corner by themselves, laughing and flicking food at one another.

Swallowing hard, she turns towards them, her hands shaking slightly against her tray. “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asks when she’s next to them. They boys look up, both confused at someone interrupting them, and then even more confused that that someone is Clarke Griffin.

“Um, sure.” Monty says, because of course Monty would say yes. He looks at her like she might dump her lunch on him, but he makes room for her to sit. Jasper jumps up.

“Of course, you can sit with us.” he rushes to the other side of the table, pushing her seat in when she sits down. She smiles awkwardly at him, trying not to think about anything. Unconsciously, she runs her fingers down her arm again. “My name is Jasper. We used to have Math together.” he says before pointing to Monty. “And that’s Monty. He’s my best friend.”

“I know.” Clarke says before she can stop herself. The boys look surprised. She blushes slightly. “I remember you from math. You wore googles all the time.” She points at his head, even though he’s not wearing them now.

Jasper beams. “That’s because I’m a chemist. Or I will be.”

Monty laughs. “Yeah, some chemist.” The boys share a knowing look, and Jasper throws a pea at him. “Anyway…” Monty starts, looking at Clarke pointedly.

She clears her throat. “I’m Clarke.”

Monty nods. “Yeah, we know, too.” The boys share another look. “So, um, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” he asks friendly, but the expression makes her wince.

“You okay?” Jasper asks, concerned. His eyebrows furrow and he frowns.

Goddamn, this is hard, Clarke thinks to herself.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” she lies, eating a little to busy herself. She can only eat half of the fake meat and peas before she thinks she might be sick.

“You look green.” Jasper says after a while of silence. Clarke shakes her head, putting a hand to her face. “You sure you’re okay?” He asks warily this time, probably afraid she’s going to throw up on them.

“Yeah, yeah.” she waves him off, her hand covering her eyes. But she’s not, of course. Jasper hurts as much as Bellamy does. “I have to go. Do you wanna finish my potatoes? I didn’t touch them.”

Monty gives her a strange look, concern probably, but Jasper snatches her tray. “Hell, yes. I never get potatoes! That’s awesome. Are they expensive?” Clarke shrugs awkwardly, and Jasper just hums before eating a slice of her potatoes. He closes his eyes dramatically, a smile on his face. “I love finding out how the other half lives. It’s like finding out about a magical world by opening a closet door.”

Monty smiles, giving Clarke an apologetic look. “I think that’s a book, Jas.”

“No, I just made that up. In my mind. Right now.”

“Sure you did, buddy.”

Clarke stands up abruptly, her knee hitting the table hard, and the boys stop their laughing. Their eyes are wide and Monty reaches out for her, whilst Jasper lets a small laugh out. “Jesus, you are jumpy.” he says, snickering. “Do you want your potatoes back?” he says, pushing the tray back to her.

Clarke shakes her head, the bile rising up her throat. “But um…” she sits down again, her legs still pointing towards the door. “I heard you guys know your way around the herbs.”

Jasper chokes on a potato slice and Monty takes a sharp intake of breath. “Uh, no. Don’t have any idea what in the world you’re talking about. Sorry.” Jasper says, after thumping his chest a couple times.

Clarke purses her lips. “Okay, but if you did…” she shrugs, standing up, trying to act aloof. “Just remember to refill them properly. The adults are checking them.”

She turns away before they can ask any questions, but they don’t follow her out like Bellamy did the day before.

Bellamy.

She sighs, her heart hurting a little as she walks down to the learning sector, but she pushes the pain away. She has bigger problems right now, like Botany and Professor Green.

“Hello, sir. May I speak with you for a second?”

Professor Green is young, probably her mother’s age, with kind eyes but a no-nonsense attitude. When she dropped his class when she was fifteen, he told her that as a future doctor and maybe one that could return to Earth, she would regret it. A year later his time, but two years later her time, she does.

“Sure, Miss Griffin. Please come in.” He gestures at a seat, and she closes the door behind her. “What can I help you with?”

“Well,” she clears her throat as she sits. “I would like to rejoin Botany if that’s okay.”

Professor Green raises his eyebrow. “Well, I’m only teaching the fifth years and the twelfth years  this quarter. Unfortunately, you’re too advanced and too behind for either class.”

Clarke nods. “I know, but…”

“But you left my class in your ninth year. You left most of your classes in order to complete your medical training, which is a perfectly fine profession - one I’m sure your mother and father are proud of.”

Clarke nods again. “They are, but I want to be prepared…just in case anything happens.”

Professor Green looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “Anything happens? It’s a class about plants, and we’re living in space.”

She swallows. “But one day, we might not be, and I want to know about what plants can heal and what plants to stay away. I don’t want anyone getting poisoned off a drugged plant.” Again, she adds in her head.

“Yes, well…” Professor Green shuffles some papers on his desk. “I’m not teaching at your level this year. Maybe ask Rema. I think she might have space in her eighth year class. You would be a year ahead, but it’s better than nothing.” And he nods as to dismiss her.

But Clarke stays. “I can do the twelfth year class, Professor. You have kids take an exam in order to join, correct?”

The older man nods. “Yes, but I can’t say it’s one of my more popular classes. I only have three students, one of them my son. I will not slow down my lessons so that you can keep up.” He says pointedly.

Clarke nods, her face serious. “I understand. I don’t need a handicap. I just want to learn.” She adds, “I can take the exam.”

He takes a deep breath, leaning back on his chair. “Okay, you have a week to study the materials. I suggest talking to one of the students, either Monty or…”

Clarke interrupts. “I’ll ask Monty. We’re friends.”

Green raises an eyebrow again, but doesn’t comment on the almost-lie. “Very well. If you can pass the exam, then you can be in my class. We meet Monday and Wednesdays. Can that fit in with your medical studies?”

“Yes.” she says, even though she’s not sure it will. “Thank you, sir.”

Professor Green shrugs. “I did nothing, Miss Griffin. If you want to be in my class, it’s up to you.” And with that she is dismissed again with a respectful nod. This time, Clarke leaves, a small smile on her face.

—

She has the night shift in the infirmary because of her classes, and when she walks in, she expects to see her mother. Instead, she sees the one person she still needed to see.

“Wells!” Her heart simultaneously breaks and heals at the sight of him. He’s leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for her. His head snaps up, a bright smile on his face.

“For god’s sake, it’s impossible to get ahold of you, Clarke.”

Clarke is still in emotional hell, so she does the only thing she can think of: barrel him with a huge hug. He gasps as she almost tackles him, but holds her tightly, his hands never hesitating to embrace her back. “Whoa, buddy.” he says, laughing a little. “Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry, sorry.” she sputters out, but she stays in his embrace until he untangles her from him.

“Clarke?” he questions gently. “Are you okay?” he rubs her arm, and the bruises Bellamy caused with his hand burn with Wells’ touch.

“No.” she says, truthfully for the first time in two days. “No, I’m not.” she shakes and he brings her close to him again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I got you. Always.” Wells promises, and it makes Clarke want to scream and tear the room apart. “What’s wrong?”

There are voices suddenly, and Clarke pushes herself away, turning away from the sound to wipe her eyes. She can already tell it’s her mother, but she hears another voice as well. “Thank you, Dr. Griffin.”

“Of course, David. It makes me feel better having a guard with us, especially at this late hour, and training the cadets is a necessity.” Her mother answers, her heels clanking as she walks into the room. “Oh, hello, Wells, Clarke.”

Clarke takes a deep breath, making her face stony as she turns around. Wells is staring at her intensely, but doesn’t make a move towards her. Instead, he greets Abby. “Hello, Doc.” he smiles roughly at her, and Abby grins. “It’s been a while.” Wells says, but it sounds like a joke.

Abby laughs. “Yeah, two days.” she looks at Clarke. “Clarke unfortunately hasn’t been feeling too great, but she’s better now, right?” Abby squeezes her arm, pulling Clarke into a half hug. The blonde girl nods, her lips pressed together tightly. “Good. Now let’s get to work.” Looking over at Wells, she says, “I invited your father for dinner tomorrow. I hope you come too, Wells.”

Wells looks at Clarke. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Clarke nods at him, ever so slightly, a promise that she’ll talk to him then, and he leaves. As soon as he does, Clarke feels cold again. Swallowing hard, she tells herself to go into doctor-mode, to learn as much as she can from her mother, but David Miller stops her in her tracks.

He is perched against the entrance of the infirmary, a gun holstered on his side. Next to him, Bellamy Blake stands at attention. Abby smiles at them. “David brought one of his cadets with him tonight, Clarke, since Jackson and I have to prep for surgery for Mrs. Declan. I want you to stay here in case anyone comes in.”

Clarke stands completely still as she frantically thinks of her options. On one hand, she wants to watch her mother perform open heart surgery, just in case she would ever have to do it, but on the other hand, she doesn’t want to run away from Bellamy again.

She misses him.

Besides yesterday, she hasn’t seen him for months - not since he asked her for a drink and she kissed his cheek in goodbye.

In the end, she chooses her people again. “I want to watch you, mom. I think it would be a good learning experience.”

Abby smiles at her, but gives her a strange look. “Last week, you told me to never include you on anything involving blood.”

Clarke almost laughs. “How can I become a doctor if I can’t look at blood?” she asks, completely aware that Bellamy is staring a hole into her head. She doesn’t face him; she knows the second she does, she’ll do something idiotic like jump into his arms. “I’m fine with blood.”

“You weren’t last week.” Abby mentions again, almost grumbling, but shakes her head. “No, I need Jackson with me. He’s more experienced than you are, and I need all the help I can get. I can’t leave him here. You’ll do better in the infirmary, Clarke.” Abby continues as soon as she sees Clarke start to argue. “Clarke, you just learned how to take blood from a patient. What I need is a little bit more advanced.” she says, not knowing that Clarke had treated someone who literally had a spear in his chest.

Jackson arrives them, already in scrubs. “Are you ready, Abby?” The older woman nods, turning towards Clarke.

“The cadet will stay with you. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?” Her mother says amicably to Bellamy.

“Blake.” He says simply, and Mr. Miller puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Blake is one of our best cadets. I plan on making him one of our best guards, as well.” Mr. Miller says, and Clarke closes her eyes. Once upon a time, Bellamy wasn’t just the best guard in the field.

He was the fucking leader.

“Excellent. Clarke, if anything goes wrong, you page for me. I’m taking the nurses with me for the surgery so you will be alone tonight. Are you okay with that, or do you want me to call for Callie to stay with you?”

Clarke shakes her head, frustrated. “Mom, I’m fine. I can handle the sniffles.” Abby pauses but nods, leaving with Mr. Miller and Jackson.

“Page me if you need me, Clarke.” Abby says before she leaves. Suddenly, Clarke is once again alone with Bellamy Blake. Bravely, she turns to him and notices the things she didn’t before. His hair, usually curly and in his eyes, is slicked back professionally and he’s in a guard uniform. His eyes are trained on her, all steel and anger, but, luckily maybe for her, he doesn’t have a gun on his side.

“You found me.” She says, because she doubts it’s coincidence that Bellamy Blake is standing in front of her a day after she revealed his secret wasn’t so secret.

He shrugs slowly, cold eyes staring at her. “Miller needed someone to watch over the Princess of the Ark, and I volunteered.” He smiles unamused. “It looks good on a resume.”

Clarke’s skin feels like it’s on fire. “Why is that always a thing?” she snaps, bringing a hand to her hair. She expects her fingers to run through but instead, they get tangled in her braid. Frustrated, she undos the locks. “I’m not a princess.”

Bellamy snorts, and Clarke glares at him - but she can’t keep the heat there. He may look a tad different, but he’s still Bellamy, the boy she had on her side for such a long time.

She blew up a village to save his life.

“We need to talk.” He orders after a beat, his jaw set. “Let’s start, with who the hell are you, and why do you know about Octavia?”

She doesn’t know how to even respond to him, but she doesn’t have to. A small girl and her mother come in, the little girl rubbing her eyes to wipe the tears away. She has a cold, but luckily, she wasn’t lying when Clarke told her mother she can deal with the sniffles.

Swallowing hard, she focuses on her patient and ignores Bellamy. Well, outright, she does; inwardly, he’s all she thinks about.

Bellamy Blake is dead.

At least, the one she knew. She will never talk to Bellamy again, not like she used to. He was her partner. She protected him and he protected her. They ran a group of abandoned, delinquent teenagers together and helped them survive a harsh landing, a war, a treaty.

Sometimes back on Earth, when she was waking up, her thoughts would not be on survival, but on him. On his eyes, on his hand on hers as they pulled a trigger, on his arms wrapped around her.

And sometimes, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she used to think that she could have loved…

A tray filled with medical supplies falls to the floor, and the little girl jumps and starts to cry again. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Clarke snaps out of her thoughts, her hands shaking a little. The mother gives her an exasperated look.

“I think we’re just going to wait for Dr. Griffin to look over Molly. Thank you for your help, Clarke.” The mother gives her a hard stare, grabbing Molly’s hand. The pair leave quickly, leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone again.

“So much for handling the sniffles.” Bellamy says vindictively.

“Shut up.” Clarke says angrily, because that’s what she always said every time Bellamy would ask like an asshole. The cadet doesn’t respond, but his glance turns into a steely glare again. She sighs, sitting down, putting her head in her hands. “My name is Clarke Griffin.” she mumbles.

Bellamy comes closer. “Yeah, I know that, Princess. The question is why do you know my name, and why do you know hers?” he breathes out the last part, and his fear is apparent again. He kneels in front of her, lifting her hands so she’s forced to look him in the eyes. A big part of her wants to mess up his hair; the perfect slicked up style reminds her too much of the first day on the ground.

“It’s a long story.” she settles on.

“Tell me it then.” he demands, but his voice is shaky. He hasn’t let go of her wrist and she doesn’t take it away.

“I…can’t.” she whispers. Behind her eyes, she can feel the sting of tears, and she turns away from him before she can cry. Standing up, she goes over to the medical tools she dropped, picking them up and putting them away.

“What do you mean you can’t? Did someone tell you? Does your mother know? The council?” he asks angrily, dropping his arms in frustration. His hands go to his hair, messing it a little, before he remembers that it’s styled. Clarke almost wants to tell him to do it again, just so he can look like her Bellamy.

“Trust me, if the council or my mother knew, you would know.” she says pointedly, still not looking him in the eyes. She sighs at his insistent stare. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you what’s going on, but…” She sets her jaw. “The Ark is dying.” she tells him, and he looks confused.

“What? What does that mean?” he asks, coming close again. She wonders if he does that to intimidate her with his height; it doesn’t work. She’s not afraid of him, but it still makes her pause.

“It means…people are starting to lose control, and people do stupid things when they lose control.”

Bellamy groans. “What the hell does that have to do with Octavia? How do you know about her?”

Clarke shakes her head. There’s a knock at the door, this time an older man complaining he hurt his back. Determined to help without having another episode, she pays attention only to her patient, once again ignoring Bellamy albeit unsuccessfully.

When the man leaves, Bellamy tries again, but Clarke doesn’t say another word. She’s afraid if she does, she’ll tell him the truth - and then he’ll just think she’s crazy. “Oh, Princess.” he says after he asks her the same question for the third time. “We’re going to have a huge problem, you and me.”

Clarke smiles weakly, sadly. “Won’t be the first time.” she whispers, and he gives her a strange look. “Are you going to be here every night?” she asks after a while.

He straights up, eyes flashing. “Every fucking night, Princess, until you tell me the truth.” he threatens, but she takes it like a promise. “I’ll stay with you forever if I have to, just to protect her.”

Clarke nods. “I don’t expect anything less.” she says truthfully, and he squirms in confusion. It’s obvious it’s bothering him that he doesn’t know what’s going on. “My mother should be done soon, but my shift is done now. Can you walk me to my room?” she asks, because she’s selfish. She doesn’t need his protection, but she doesn’t want to let him leave her yet.

Bellamy sighs, struggling between killing her and being her guard. “Fine. Come on. Try to keep up.” He tells her, shaking his hair out with his fingers.

“You look better with your hair like that.” She tells him when his hair is back in his eyes and not plastered to his head. He gives her a long look, trying to figure her out, before he shakes his head, laughing a little.

“Yeah, well, you look better with your hair down, too, Princess.” He tells her, and she gives him a small grin. They walk in Phoenix in silence until they reach her apartment. She turns to him then, still not sure what to say. This Bellamy in front of her doesn’t know her, and she doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know of the way they looked at one another; he doesn’t know about the way he saved her life or the way she forgave him.

But then again, he also doesn’t know the way she locked the dropship before he got on, or the way she pulled the trigger that gassed three hundred people.

Now, he’s looking at her like he doesn’t know her at all, which he doesn’t but it still takes her a while to get used to. “Listen, Princess, I don’t want to threaten you, but if you tell anyone about O, I will…”

Clarke interrupts him. She knows what he’s capable of already. “I won’t. I promise. Your secret’s safe with me, Bell.” she nods to him, putting a hand on his arm, and he looks taken aback.

“Yes, well…” He frowns. “We’re not friends, Princess. Don’t act like we are. I don’t even know you.”

She steps back, feeling a little like how she felt when Anya stabbed her so long ago. “Sorry.” she apologizes, because he’s right. “I promise one day, I’ll explain everything, but today’s not the day. Have a good night, Cadet Blake.” she nods, her lips tightly pressed together before going inside and closes the door behind her.

Going to her room, she waits until the pink, frilly blanket of her youth is over her eyes before she starts to cry.

Bellamy Blake - the one she knew back on the ground, the one she loved back on the ground - is dead. In his place, a new Bellamy Blake, one that’s on the cadet force and doesn’t trust her, maybe even hates her.

To be fair, she doesn’t blame him.