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"My mom thinks we’re dating."

Bellamy looked up, shaken from his thoughts as Clarke sat down at the table across from him. He raised an eyebrow. “Really, now?” 

Clarke nodded, lips pressed tightly together. Though her cheeks had gone pink, her gaze was steady as she said, “I didn’t correct her.”

"Oh?" Bellamy chuckled, half bemused, half curious. 

Glancing quickly around, Clarke leaned in, a conspiratorial look on her face. “She knows we’re up to something. It’s the perfect way to keep her from getting suspicious.” 

Bellamy snorted, but he couldn’t help but admit it was a sound, albeit awkward, plan. “Alright. So every time she’s around, we’ll put our acting skills to the test, huh?”

Clarke gave him a sly grin. “It’ll be tough, but I think we’ll get through it.” 

"Speak of the devil." Bellamy shifted his gaze over Clarke’s shoulder. "Don’t look now, but Chancellor Griffin is trying to kill me with her eyes alone." 

Biting down a laugh, Clarke reached across the table and grabbed Bellamy’s hand. “We need to talk about who we’re taking with us,” she said, voice low. 

Bellamy brought her hand to his lips. “Not Finn,” he whispered against her scabbed knuckles. Her grip tightened, just slightly. 

"No, of course, not after…" Clarke’s voice died. "I think we should take Murphy." 

Bellamy laughed - loudly, forcefully - cradling her hand against his chest. “I agree that we need the manpower,” he whispered through a smile. “But he sort of wants me dead.” 

Clarke leaned in closer, so that their noses brushed. “If he tries anything, I’ll kill him.” 

Slowly, carefully, Bellamy peeked behind Clarke. Abby Griffin was sitting by one of the campfires, glaring daggers at him. “Raven will want to come,” he said, reaching out and twisting a strand of Clarke’s hair between his fingers. 

"She’s still recovering." Clarke looked down, chewing on her bottom lip before adding, "But we can’t leave her behind."

"And that’s the moment I realized you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen," Bellamy said suddenly, voice growing louder. Clarke blinked, startled, until she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, hey, Chancellor Griffin." 

Clarke looked up at her mother, eyes wide. “Mom, what’s up?” 

"Just came to see how you two were doing," Abby said, smiling stiffly. "You certainly seem very…cozy." 

Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a quick look. Clarke did her best to look embarrassed; Bellamy just smirked. 

"Actually, Clarke, I was hoping you would come help me organize herbs in the med tent. Jackson never did well in Earth Skills, and you’ve had the most experience with them." It was a poor excuse to separate the happy couple, but they both knew better than to argue. 

"Uh, sure, Mom. I’ll talk to you later, Bellamy," Clarke said, standing. Bellamy stood as well, disentangling their hands. With one final smirk at Abby, he leaned forward and pecked Clarke on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Clarke. Night, Chancellor." 

As the mother and daughter walked away, Bellamy relished in the memory of their twin looks of surprise, and found he missed the feeling of Clarke’s fingers intertwined with his.


As Clarke finished labeling and sorting the herbs with her mother, she was struck with a thought: if they had any hopes of allying themselves with the Grounders, then they would need extra guns. The Grounders were skilled warriors, but their technology was no match for that of the Mountain Men. If they wanted to raise an army, they would need weapons. 

She headed towards the door, itching to talk to Bellamy, when her mother called after her. “Where are you going?”

Clarke froze. It had been a while since she’d had a supervisor of any sort; she had forgotten what it was like to have her every move monitored. 

"I, uh, I’m going to see Bellamy." 

Abby shook her head. “It’s late, Clarke, I’m sure he’s asleep.” 

It wasn’t even midnight; Bellamy was most assuredly awake. 

"I doubt it," Clarke said. "He doesn’t sleep much." 

Abby raised an eyebrow, and Clarke realized how her words must have sounded. 

"You can see him in the morning. Let’s go back to our tent." 

Clarke felt her blood boil. Even if she hadn’t just turned eighteen, she had stopped being a child the minute she’d been tossed into solitary, the minute her father had been floated. No one, not her mother, not the chancellor, was going to tell her what to do. 

"No." 

Abby frowned. “No?”

"I’m an adult." Clarke crossed her arms in front of her chest, back straightening. "I’m going to visit my boyfriend. I’m going to spend the night in his tent. And you can’t stop me.” 

Turning on her heels, Clarke stormed from the med tent, leaving her mother in stunned silence behind her. Clarke had never really gone through a teen rebellion phase; now she sort of felt she was making up for lost time.

She was still fuming when she marched into Bellamy’s tent, unannounced. He was sitting on the edge of his bedroll, looking over a marked-up map of the area. Raven sat nearby, fiddling with some radios. 

"How was your day, honey?" Bellamy asked, giving her an amused half-smile. "Sorting herbs was that rough, huh?" 

Clarke scowled at him. “I need to sleep here tonight.”

Raven looked between them with sudden interest. Bellamy frowned and asked, “Did you two have a fight?”

"Sort of," Clarke said with a sigh. "And then I got mad and told her I was gonna sleep in your tent."

Raven coughed, though Clarke suspected she was just covering up her laughter. Bellamy’s lips pressed together in a tight line, though out of amusement or embarrassment, Clarke couldn’t tell. 

Also,” Clarke said, eager to move on, “I had a thought: we need to go back to the bunker, check for more weapons.” 

Both Bellamy and Raven sat up at this. “We took all the guns we found back with us,” Bellamy said. “Most of them disappeared when the Mountain Men took you, or were destroyed.”

"We were also a little distracted by hallucinations and trying not to get murdered," Clarke said. "We didn’t search the bunker thoroughly. There could be more."

Bellamy sighed. “It’s a long shot, but I guess we don’t really have a choice. We can’t fight the Mountain Men with spears, can we?”

"My thoughts exactly," Clarke said with a small smile. Bellamy smiled back, his hard, dark eyes softening.

They sat there for a moment, just smiling at each other, until Raven cleared her throat. “So, uh, anyone gonna tell me what’s up between you two?” 

Clarke and Bellamy just exchanged a look and laughed. 


A few days later, and Abby and Clarke were on speaking terms again. In that time, Clarke and Bellamy managed to be the cutest, most disgustingly adorable couple in the camp. He held her hand and kissed her cheek and acted the perfect gentleman. Several older women had approached Clarke, patting her on the back and congratulating her for snagging such a keeper. Neither Clarke nor her mother mentioned Clarke’s sleepovers with Bellamy again, not until the morning Abby, on her way to the med tent, saw a disheveled-looking Bellamy emerging from Raven’s tent.

When Clarke woke that morning, she was greeted by a hot mug of something - it was possibly tea, but that was debatable - and a sympathetic look. “Honey,” Abby said, brushing her thumb across Clarke’s cheek. “We need to talk about Bellamy.” 

An hour later, after an excruciating talk with her mother that involved slamming her funny bone against a table to induce realistic tears, Clarke dragged Bellamy into the nearest corner, lips pursed.

"My mom thinks you’re cheating on me."

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair. “She hates me that much, huh?”

"She saw you leaving Raven’s tent this morning."

"Oh." Bellamy grimaced. 

"Yeah." Hands on her hips, Clarke narrowed her eyes at him. "Now our cover’s ruined." 

"Or not." Bellamy crossed his arms, brows furrowed in thought. "Your mom, the guards, they think we’re useless, right? Untrained delinquents?"

Clarke nodded slowly. “Yeah…and?”

Grinning like the cat that caught the canary, Bellamy said, “If they expect us to be worthless teenagers, then let’s give them some worthless teenage drama.”

Clarke grinned.


"You bastard!” Clarke screamed, shoving Bellamy roughly against the chest. “You cheating bastard!” 

They were standing near the entrance of the camp, in full view of both the guard station and the med tent. A view people turned their heads, watching as the drama unfolded.

"It didn’t mean anything!" Bellamy shouted back. He was barely keeping a grin off his face, and almost seemed to be enjoying himself. "It was nothing, she means nothing to me!"

"Am I not enough for you?" Clarke shrieked. She couldn’t help but feel a little smug when Abby emerged from the med tent, eyes wide.

With a dramatic flourish she hadn’t thought him capable of, Bellamy dropped to his knees in front of her. “You’re everything to me, Clarke. Please. I love you.” 

For a second, Clarke was thrown. They hadn’t discussed a confession, just a gossip-worthy break-up that would keep the guards from getting suspicious.  Her heart sped up, just for a second, then she dropped the bombshell she’d been saving.

"I gave myself to you, Bellamy!” She cried. “I gave you my virginity! I thought what we had was eternal!” 

Clarke cringed; it had sounded better in her head, less like a plagiarized chapter from a bad romance novel. Even Bellamy looked taken aback, but he recovered as she stormed away, calling out after her. 

She burst straight into her tent, barely holding back a smile of relief. She knew her mother would probably come by soon to comfort her, so she put on her angriest, most angsty teenage face and threw herself onto her bedroll, trying her best to look moody. There was a rustle at the tent flap, and Clarke buried her head in her arms, shouting, “Go away, Mom, I don’t wanna talk about it!” 

"Clarke, it’s us." Clarke froze. Octavia. She and Bellamy had forgotten to divulge their plan to Octavia. 

She turned over quickly to face Octavia, who was standing in the entrance of the tent with Monroe. She looked angry, though at whom, Clarke couldn’t be sure. 

"Octavia, it’s not what it looks like-"

"Oh, so you and my brother didn’t stage a breakup in the middle of camp?” Octavia smirked at Clarke’s dumbfounded expression. “Yeah, you guys are kind of terrible actors.”

Monroe nodded in agreement. “I think everyone else bought it, though.” 

"Pathetic." Octavia crossed her arms, glaring at Clarke. "And you didn’t even think to involve me?" 

"It was a spur of the moment decision, Octavia," Clarke said, standing. "We only told Raven, since we needed her to be the ‘other woman.’" 

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t some weird, convoluted way to get revenge on Finn, is it? ‘Cause it’s probably working, honestly.” 

Clarke sighed. “No, we needed a distraction to keep the guard and my mom from finding out what we’re doing.”

Monroe and Octavia exchanged a look. “And what is that, exactly?” Octavia asked. 

"Oh, you know," Clarke said, smiling a little. "Breaking out of camp, allying with the Grounders, and busting our friends out of Mount Weather." 

The younger girls both grinned. “Sweet,” Monroe said. “Can’t wait.” 

"So, can we be a part of this distraction scheme or what?" Octavia asked. "I’m itching to slap someone." 


She wasn’t sure if it was the stress, the fatigue, or the months of loss and fear that had been weighing down on her, but Clarke found that it was surprisingly easy to cry on cue. Every time Abby wanted to talk, Clarke just had to think of Wells — or Charlotte, or the 47 still stuck in Mount Weather, or the moment she closed the dropship door, leaving Bellamy and Finn to die — and she was bawling, running into Monroe and Mel’s tent, where Bellamy, Raven, and Octavia were gathered, waiting. 

"Wick has been helping me," Raven was saying as Clarke entered one night, wiping furiously at the tears on her face. "I haven’t told him our plan, but he’s probably figured most of it out. Anyway, we’ve been modifying the walkie-talkies, they now have a range of three miles, which is prety damn impressive, if I say so myself. Hey Princess, nice of you to join us." 

Clarke sat down, still trembling a little. Her mom hadn’t let her go without a fight tonight, and her fake tears had turned into real ones by the time she’d left. She felt a hand clasp her shoulder, large and warm. Bellamy sat down beside her, frowning a little. 

"You okay?" He asked. 

Clarke nodded. “Yeah, sorry, Mom was being pushy. Took longer to shake her off than usual.” 

Bellamy squeezed her shoulder once more, then let his hand rest there, thumb occasionally rubbing circles into her back. Raven kept talking about the walkie-talkies, the bullets she’d been stealing from the guards’ ammunition stash, the bombs she and Wick had been devising. Octavia talked about the Grounders, what she knew about the different clans, taught the group the little bit of the Grounder language that she knew. Clarke let the voices of her friends wash over her, soothe the pain her chest. Bellamy’s hand never left her shoulder, a warm and constant presence that anchored her to the present moment. 

"We need to go to the bunker," Raven said, looking to Clarke and Bellamy. "We need another distraction." 

Clarke pursed her lips. “We just had the most outrageous breakup the Ark has ever seen; we’re running out of ideas.”

Octavia scoffed, smirking at Clarke. “You mean you’re running out of ideas. The Ark hasn’t dealt with me yet.”


"How could you break my brother’s heart like that?!" Octavia screamed as Clarke emerged from the med tent. "You know you’re the only girl he’s ever loved!" 

Clarke couldn’t help being a bit startled. She and Octavia had agreed to meet by the makeshift mess hall, where people would be gathering for lunch. But Octavia, it seemed, had other plans. 

"You know what he did, O," Clarke said, keeping her voice calm and aloof. She walked past Octavia, heading towards their original destination. "I can’t forgive him for that." 

"He loves you!" Octavia called after her, tugging on her jacket. "He loves you and you’re throwing that away!" 

Clarke turned on her heels, eyes quickly scanning the crowd that was amassing around them. Most of the guards were watching, intrigued, and while her mother wasn’t present, Jackson was, and Clarke knew he’d report this incident to her mother. “Bellamy’s the one who threw our relationship away, when he slept with someone else!” 

"He made a mistake," Octavia said, still loud enough for the crowd to hear. "But you have to forgive him!" 

"Go away, Octavia," Clarke said, voice dangerously calm. It was the same voice she had used to break up fights back at the dropship, before… "What would you know about any of this? You lived under the floor for sixteen years - what do you know about love?" 

It’s a low blow, but Octavia had urged her to go for it. She thought it would have the most impact, get people gossiping. Clarke couldn’t help but feel guilty about it, though-

-until Octavia’s palm collided with her cheek, that is. They certainly hadn’t scripted this, but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to be surprised. She clutched at her stinging face, mouth agape. Octavia winked briefly, then stormed away, dark hair blowing dramatically in the wind. 

Later that night, Clarke snuck into Raven’s tent, where she and Bellamy had stored their findings from the bunker. 

"You were right," Bellamy said, looking over their new collection of arms. "We missed another barrel of these bad boys."

"Oh, man, O hit you pretty hard, didn’t she," Raven said, brushing her fingers against the bruise on Clarke’s cheek. 

Bellamy laughed, softly. “That’s my girl.” 

Clarke glared at him half-heartedly, but was too excited over the guns to be mad. “This is great. Now we actually have a chance.” 

"Right after we convince the Grounders to, you know, not kill us," Raven said, fiddling with contraption she and Wick had put together. "And to go on a suicide mission with us." 

"We need to meet with them," Clarke said, looking to Bellamy. "Tomorrow, I think. We’ll need Octavia." 

Bellamy sighed heavily, and mumbled something that sounded like, “When did my little sister become a Grounder ambassador?” 

Raven ignored him, and instead asked Clarke, “Any ideas for tomorrow’s distraction?” 

Clarke bit her bottom lip. She was tired of the fake drama, but it was working so well, and kept the rest of the camp distracted. “Well, I’m going with Octavia. I have to apologize to Anya’s people,” she said, voice soft. “So tomorrow’s meltdown will have to be courtesy of Bellamy.” 

Raven paused, drumming her fingers on her knee. “You should get into a fight with Finn.” Bellamy and Clarke just stared at her, so she added, “You know, have him duel you for Clarke’s honor or something.” 

"No."

"Absolutely not." 

Clarke and Bellamy both shook their heads, sharing twin looks of reproach. Clarke continued, saying, “We can’t involve him. He’ll want to come with us.” 

"And it’s too risky to try and provoke him without telling him the plan," Bellamy added. "He might…not handle it well." 

The tent was silent for a moment, and Raven frowned, but when she spoke her voice was calm and even, “Okay, no Finn. But what else could we do?” 

Grimacing, Clarke spoke slowly. “I- You aren’t going to like this, but I know where we can find someone who’s dying to punch Bellamy in the face.” 


"She trusted you, man!” Murphy yelled, shoving Bellamy backward. “You were her one true love!” 

Raven sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Murphy was an even worse actor than Clarke, but the crowd was just eating it all up. A couple of people had pulled up chairs, and others seemed to be taking bets. 

Octavia and Clarke had snuck out early that morning, and were due to arrive back at any minute. Wick was waiting for her command to cut the power to the fence, but Raven knew she needed the guards to leave their posts before she could make the call. 

"It was a mistake!" Bellamy shouted, looking appropriately apprehensive, though Raven assumed that was just Bellamy’s attitude towards giving Murphy permission to hit him. "I never meant to hurt her!" 

"Yeah, well, you did!" Raven sighed. They really should have had Monroe defend Clarke’s honor; Murphy was just terrible at this. “I’m gonna kick your ass!” 

"I’d like to see you try," Bellamy said, voice deep and gravelly, and Raven could practically hear panties dropping. Even Mel, who was standing a ways back with Monroe, fluttered her eyelashes a bit. 

"Out of my way, Murphy. This is between us."

Raven felt her jaw drop. Finn had stepped between the men, pushing Murphy back. She could hear Murphy hiss, “What the hell, man?” and saw Bellamy’s jaw tighten. She groaned, cursing her stupid ex-boyfriend, until she saw the guards at the gate leave their posts. 

Ducking behind a tent, Raven muttered into her walkie-talkie, giving Wick the green light. When rejoined the crowd, Bellamy was on the ground, letting Finn pummel the shit out of him. Murphy hung back, looking mostly amused, but a little concerned. 

"Finn! What the hell?” 

Clarke entered the clearing, muddier than she had been this morning, but unharmed. Octavia appeared by Raven’s shoulder, grinning. 

"It go well?" Raven whispered. 

Octavia’s grin widened. “We’re alive, aren’t we?” 

"That’s what I like to hear." 

Raven ducked away again, to tell Wick to switch on the electricity again. When she came back to stand by Octavia, the guards had split up the fight. Chancellor Griffin begrudgingly ordered for Finn to spend the night in lock-up, still glaring daggers at Bellamy. Clarke moved to help Bellamy up, but Murphy dragged her away, still in character. Raven had to hand that to him - he may have been a terrible actor, but he stuck to his mission. 

Octavia ran forward and helped her brother up, leading him away to the med tent. As he passed, he winked at Raven, and then winced in pain. Raven just shook her head and laughed, and headed to his tent to wait. 


"Bellamy, hold still,” Clarke snapped. “Just let me look at your face.” 

"Like you don’t stare at it enough," Octavia muttered. Raven and Monroe snickered, and Murphy cracked a smile. 

"They already patched me up, Princess," Bellamy said, voice somewhere between annoyance and adoration. "I’m fine." 

"I can’t believe Finn just attacked you like that," Clarke said as she ran her fingers gingerly over his black eye and split lip. 

Murphy scoffed. “I can.” Raven elbowed him before he could bring up the Grounder massacre; no one really liked to dwell on it. 

I can’t believe you made an alliance with Grounders,” Monroe said. Octavia grinned smugly, leaning back against the leg of Bellamy’s chair. 

"They would have killed us if Anya hadn’t come back from the dead and vouched for us," Octavia said, crossing her arms. "Well, they would have killed Clarke, at any rate." 

Anya's status as not dead had been a surprise, one that had Clarke overjoyed. Anya hadn't been too eager to side with the people who shot her and left her for dead, but was smart enough to see that Clarke was her people's best chance at recovering their missing loved ones. 

Bellamy batted Clarke’s hands away, instead running his own hand down her spine, just once. “Well, I’m very glad you’re both alive.” He grinned at his sister, fingers still lingering at the small of Clarke’s back. 

"So, we leave tomorrow," Clarke said, shivering a little as Bellamy pulled his hand away. "Around sundown. We'll take shelter at the dropship, then meet with the Grounders at first light." 

"We're gonna need one last distraction," Raven said. "We'll be carrying supplies, weapons...we'll be conspicuous." 

Monroe sat up a little straighter. "Funny you should mention that..." With a nod to Mel, both girls pulled out scraps of paper from their pockets. 

"So, we took bets at lunch, after the fight," Mel said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Seventy-six percent of the camp seems to think Clarke and Bellamy will get back together." 

Monroe nodded, grinning at Clarke's and Bellamy's startled reactions. "Eighteen percent think Bellamy will get together with Raven." 

"I can dig that," Raven said, winking at Bellamy. Bellamy rolled his eyes. 

Monroe continued. "Four percent think Clarke is going to murder both of them." Clarke groaned, burying her face in her hands. "A-a-and two percent think Clarke and Raven are gonna bang." Raven laughed, and Clarke just groaned louder. 

Bellamy chuckled, and nudged Clarke with his elbow. "I guess it's up to us to provide the distraction again."

Clarke sighed, then snaked an arm around Bellamy's shoulders with a wicked grin. "Let's give the camp the grand finale they deserve." 


"We'll see you soon," Raven murmured in Clarke's ear. "Try not to get caught." 

"What're you talking about?" Clarke asked with a sardonic grin. "It's a surefire plan." 

Raven squeezed her shoulder, then disappeared into Monroe and Mel's tent. Clarke took a deep breath and headed to the makeshift mess hall, where the camp was gathering for dinner. She had not seen her mother all day, and was wary not to run into her before her finale with Bellamy. 

When she entered the mess hall, she saw Bellamy immediately, where he was getting an earful from none other than Abby Griffin herself. He looked up, dark eyes meeting hers, and she felt her heart begin to race. 

Tearing himself away from Abby's verbal beating, Bellamy strode towards Clarke, shoulders set back in determination. Without waiting for her to speak or move, he cupped her face, gently, and pressed his lips to hers. 

The kiss itself was short, but what it lacked in length it made up for in passion. Clarke pulled away, stunned, her breathing a little heavier than she wanted to admit. Bellamy still held her face in his hands, thumbs stroking her cheekbones tenderly. 

"I love you, Clarke Griffin," he announced, loud enough for the crowd around them to hear. Someone wolf whistled. "I love you more than the night loves the stars, I love you more than the sun loves the moon. You are my world." 

The lines had been written very early that morning, by Monroe and Mel, whose hysterical laughter at their own work should have been a warning sign. Clarke bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Somewhere in the crowd, a few people aww-ed. 

Peeking over Bellamy's shoulder at her mother's frown, Clarke smiled slowly, placing a hand over her heart. "I love you too, Bell. And I forgive you, I do. I love you." 

Bellamy grinned at her - an actual smile, not one of his smug little half-smirks that she'd grown so accustomed to - and it was bright and beautiful and absolutely blinding. 

"Clarke," he said, taking her hands, and Clarke froze - this wasn't part of their script. They were supposed to kiss again, maybe make out, and more or less make people uncomfortable. They'd even practiced last night, after a couple bottles of moonshine, much to Raven's amusement. Kissing him in public was something she could do, but improvising lines? Raven and Octavia had made it pretty clear that she wasn't very good at that. 

"Clarke, I don't want to lose you, ever. Not again," Bellamy said, unaware of her sudden panic. "Please, please, make me the happiest man on Earth." 

He knelt down in front of her, on one knee, and held out a ring.

Clarke was going to absolutely murder him if they made it out of camp. 

"Clarke Griffin, will you marry me?" He asked, and the crowd gasped. 

It took her a moment to speak, but when she did, the strain in her voice was easily misconstrued as euphoria. "Oh, oh my- Yes! Yes, I will marry you!" 

They embraced, and as Clarke pulled her lips from his, she hissed, "Bellamy Blake, you are in so much trouble."

Bellamy grinned, slipping the ring onto her finger. It was simple, roughly made, probably something Raven or Wick whipped up an hour ago. It fit well, though, snug but not too tight. "We said we were gonna give 'em a grand finale, didn't we?" 

Clarke wanted to argue, but was suddenly surrounded by people, some hugging her, some clapping, some sighing dreamily about young love. Abby approached them carefully, her mouth a tight line. 

"Clarke, can I talk with you?" She asked, a hand on her daughter's shoulder. 

"Actually, Mom, we were just gonna-" Bellamy's lips were suddenly at her neck, and Clarke found it hard to speak. His arms twisted around her waist, and Abby's eyes grew comically wide. "Uh, head back, to Bell's tent...uh, you know...tired. And stuff." 

Before Abby could protest, Clarke was dragging Bellamy from the mess hall, followed by the whoops and cat-calls of the crowd. They ducked into Bellamy's tent, where their packs waited for them. 

Clarke pulled out her walkie-talkie. "Okay, Wick, we're ready to head out." 

"Ready to go, Mrs. Blake?" Bellamy asked, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

"Not married yet," Clarke reminded him, matching his smile. "...Mr. Griffin." 

Bellamy said nothing, but laughed once and took her hand in his. Together, they ducked out the back of the tent, through the gap in the fence, and into the night. 


"There you guys are," Octavia said as Bellamy and Clarke approached the dropship. "We were starting to get worried." 

"Yeah, what took you so long?" Raven asked, though she clearly already knew the answer. Clarke glared at her, holding up her ring-laden hand. 

"We got engaged," she deadpanned. 

Octavia and Monroe let out shrieks of laughter, and even Murphy cracked a smile. "Congratulations, big brother," Octavia said, running over to hug Bellamy. "I knew you'd meet a nice girl one day, settle down, have a few kids-"

"Yeah, we're gonna have a few kids," Clarke said, rolling her eyes. "About 47 of 'em, if everything goes according to plan." 

The group laughed at that, though the anxiety of their upcoming battle settled over the old campsite as they drifted each off to sleep. And it was really only because of that that Clarke slept next to Bellamy that night, with his warm hands and soothing presence. Really, nothing else but the fear of tomorrow's unknown prompted Bellamy to throw an arm across Clarke's waist, pulling her close as they slept. 

But if they did wake up curled together, Clarke's head on Bellamy's chest, her hair in his mouth, her feet tucked between his legs -- well, they were engaged, after all. 


Abby had tried to talk to Clarke that night, but every time she approached that Blake boy's tent, the sounds of her daughter and that criminal- they were just too much for Abby to handle. But surely they'd finished by now; the sun was high in the sky, nearing noon, and Abby was dying to interrogate her daughter. No sound came from the tent, so she barged in, hands on her hips. 

"Clarke, we need to talk, now- What the hell?"

The tent was empty, bedroll gone, no sign that anyone had spent the night there. In the corner sat a small device, one she'd seen Raven fiddling with earlier that week. 

Tentatively, Abby picked it up, accidentally hitting a button. Suddenly, her daughter's voice was playing throughout the tent, panting and moaning, "Bellamy!" 

A recording. It had been a recording. And suddenly, everything fell into place - the public displays of affection, the even more public breakup, the fights, the proposal

"Shit," was all Abby Griffin could manage before she stormed into the camp, looking for the guards. Just: "Shit.

She was never going to underestimate those kids again.