Disclaimer: I don't own The 100 or its characters, but I'm so excited it's Wednesday so I can see them on TV tonight!

The Line Between

Chapter 1

The first thing she noticed was that she couldn't roll over. Clarke groaned as she came to. She'd tried to roll over on her side, but she couldn't; her left arm seemed to be restrained somehow, and it was keeping her from leaning too far that way. She blearily blinked her eyes open, trying to take in her surroundings.

The last thing she'd remembered was that she was being at a peace summit with Lexa, several other Grounder leaders, and other Arkers and members of the original 100. The rescue of their people from Mt. Weather had not been easy; they'd lost many casualties, particularly from Lexa's army, but also from some of the Arkers who'd joined the attack. Not to mention the Mt. Weather citizens who hadn't made it deep enough into the mountain during the attack, when the containment systems had sent doors slamming down, trapping people in poison-soaked air.

And even though Clarke was grateful that they'd managed to save so many of their people and fight side by side with Lexa's Grounder army, she knew that no one had come away from this battle, unscathed, including her. And not just physically – everyone had new demons, horrifying nightmares that lurked in the shadows of the mind. Clarke had seen what that mission had done to Lincoln. He hadn't been able to withstand the allure of the drug they'd so mercilessly addicted him to; he had betrayed his lover's brother, and Clarke knew he felt he could never forgive himself. But Lincoln was strong. Clarke only hoped Octavia could forgive him for what had happened. The last time she'd seen them, Octavia had been torn. She was so in love with Lincoln, but his actions had caused so much pain for Bellamy, who had almost died and had undergone horrors that no one else could imagine while in the mountain.

Bellamy. He'd only just barely managed to get out of his predicament after having been "harvested." He was skittish, almost as if human contact were too much for him. This was the Bellamy who had led the 100 through his charisma and charm alone, who could have charmed a dead stump if he'd needed to. Now, when Clarke looked at him, it was almost as if that part of him had died, drained away with the blood they'd stolen from his body. And it was all her fault.

She had been the one to callously send him off to Mt. Weather. Yes, that action had ultimately allowed them to contact him once he had managed to escape his confines, and he had passed the directives along to Lexa's people on the inside; without him, the 48 would likely still be locked up on the inside, Clarke and Lexa unable to infiltrate the previously impenetrable mountain. Without him, many more would have died, with less chance of success. Once again, Bellamy had been the leader that everyone needed, and Clarke? She was the cold, heartless bitch that had sent one of her closest companions to die.

And was he just a companion? Clarke didn't know what Bellamy was to her. He was just this stupid brute at the beginning, who'd done things for his own selfish gain, like stealing the radio when Raven had first touched down, and almost going off on his own. But when Clarke had realized that he'd intended to leave, it was like something inside had snapped; some little voice had shouted, No! He can't go! And she'd spent the next few days trying to decipher what that meant. Did she need him as a co-leader? As a friend? Just what was Bellamy Blake to her?

When he'd returned from Mt. Weather, he hadn't even been able to look at her. Perhaps it was that he was traumatized, or maybe it was that he felt betrayed. The last words they'd shared had been when she'd told him, "It's worth the risk." And she could never take it back.

But Bellamy had still stood beside her at the peace summit, his presence strong and reassuring. They were there to solidify the tenuous peace pact between Lexa's clan of Tree People and the Sky People, and things had seemed to be going well until a flurry of flaming arrows had lit the tent on fire. Clarke hadn't had time to react, though, as something knocked her out. Her last thought was that Lexa had seemed just as confused at first, though her features had quickly melted into a snarl as she cursed, "Gonakru! Desert Tribe!"

The sound of a door pushing open had Clarke sitting upright quickly, though her head pounded with the sudden movement. She looked down, noticing that jacket was gone, leaving her in a tight shirt, jeans, and boots. Her left wrist was tied to the wall, and there seemed to be no one else around. The room itself seemed nice, and it looked to be rounded, like the inside of a hut. It was furnished with various weapons and animal pelts, and a large pallet sat in the middle of the room. Near Clarke was a bowl of water, and as soon as she saw it, Clarke was greedily chugging it down.

She looked up as she saw two Grounders approaching her, but their garb was definitely different. They wore lighter colors, as opposed to the dark clothes that Lexa's tribe wore to camouflage themselves in the forest. They seemed to be fully wrapped in a light material, which reminded Clarke of the books she'd once read about some place called the Sahara desert, and the traders that would cross through its treacherous sands. They stopped as they neared, saying nothing as they observed her. It seemed like she would have to make the first move.

"Where are my people?" she tried. Neither batted an eye. "What am I doing here? What do you want with me?"

She tried to stand, but the restraint on her wrist jerked her back, and she hissed through her teeth as it chafed her skin. One man spoke quickly to the other, but Clarke couldn't understand; she'd gotten better at the Grounders' language, but their dialect was different, and spoken so fast. The man turned to her. "What is your name?" he ground out, and Clarke had to concentrate through his accent.

She didn't respond at first, and he was suddenly very near her, pushing her up against the wall behind her. His hand gripped her chin tightly, and her hands came around to fight him. But she found herself sluggish, and he easily caught her wrists. "The water… What did you do to me?"

"It is a root used for sedation. It has no lasting effects. Now tell me – what is your name?"

Clarke used her foot to stamp his instep, and he grunted. She lifted her leg to knee him in the groin, but he had wised up to her fighting spirit, and he pinned her further against the wall. "I am under orders not to mark you up, goufa, but that does not mean I have to be gentle." He emphasized this by slamming her head back into the wall, and dots danced across her vision. "Now what is your name?"

"Kiss my ass," she said lowly, trying to keep up a brave front. She was really starting to grow worried. There was no sign of any of her people, and she didn't know where she was, but these were clearly no allies of Lexa's army.

"That can be arranged," the man holding her chuckled.

Finally, the second one, who had remained silent and was clearly the superior of the two, barked out an order, and the man holding her backed off. Clarke rubbed the back of her head, looking over to where the leader was standing, his gaze fixed on her. Clarke felt a shiver race up her spine. She didn't like the intent in his eyes at all, and she felt like she was in a world of trouble.

"Bellamy… Bellamy! C'mon, wake up."

Bellamy swatted at whoever was trying to wake him up. He hadn't had a good night in sleep in God knows how long. Instead, he saw scissors, pipes, instruments and tools… Needles that penetrated his skin, machines that rigged him upside down, draining his life's blood from him slowly but surely… The mental images flooded him, and his eyes shot open in an attempt to save him from the horrifying nightmares that plagued him whenever his lids felt closed.

He saw Octavia next to him, Nyko behind her. "Bell, thank goodness. They conked you out pretty hard, though Nyko said your vitals seemed stable."

Bellamy nodded to Lexa's healer before he turned to Octavia. "O, what happened?"

"The Desert Tribe. They attacked us. They must have been laying in wait, knowing that our forces were weakened after the fight against the Mountain," Nyko said.

Bellamy looked around. They seemed to be in some sort of pin. He searched his body for his gun… Only to come up empty. He was missing his jacket as well, stripped down to his pants, shirt, and shoes. All of his weapons were missing, including the knife hidden in his boots. Whoever had searched him had been thorough, and he grit his teeth. "So where are we now?"

"The Trigedakru seem to think we've been captured, brought back here to work as laborers for the Desert Tribe," Octavia said, the words coming out in a rush. Bellamy knew how brave and fierce his little sister was, but he could tell she was afraid. Hell, he knew he should be afraid. He wondered if he'd ever be afraid again, after all he'd been through.

"We have to escape," Bellamy said, taking stock. "How many of us are here?"

He looked around. There had to be at least 50 of their people. He shook his head. Couldn't they catch a break? First captured by the Mountain Men, and now this?

"They did not get all of us. Lexa and Indra escaped, along with several of your people," Nyko stated. "They will come after us in full retaliation."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm not going to wait around for the rescue party." Bellamy had never been one to be patient. "I say we get the Hell out of Dodge sooner rather than later."

Nyko gave Bellamy a blank look, but there wasn't time to explain. Bellamy stood, creeping along the edges of the pin. He stopped when heard a tent flap open as three large and very covered Grounders entered. "The Desert Tribe," Nyko whispered.

Bellamy noticed that they were covered head to toe in lighter clothes than the Grounders in the forest normally wore. Bellamy had never seen the desert, but his mother had read many books and tales to him and Octavia when he was younger, so he could imagine the pallor of the sand, the heat of the sun. The Desert Men seemed to be talking, and Bellamy bent down, crawling closer. Nyko and Octavia followed.

The conversation lasted a few minutes, and Bellamy could barely make out what they were saying. A gate to the pin suddenly opened as two of them stepped inside, their eyes alighting on Octavia. One of them reached down, grabbing for her wrist, and she shot out to stop him, felling the man. The second man had a knife to her throat almost immediately, and Bellamy nearly saw red as he tackled him. The third man threw him off, dragging him out of the pin. The first two Desert men followed, and Bellamy found himself being held by two of them as the third punched him in the stomach. He choked out a gasp, but he spit in one of their faces. "That all you got?"

That of course earned him another punch, but Bellamy didn't regret it. Nobody touched his little sister and got away with it. Bellamy found himself being dragged out, Octavia screaming, "Bellamy!"

He squinted as the sun beamed down on him, and he was dragged over to a large pole. The Desert Men strung him up, and Bellamy grunted in pain as his arms were forced to hold his weight. At least he wasn't upside down…

The men began speaking to one another, and Bellamy found himself thankful that Lincoln had taught him so much of the Grounder language. These three had accents, but he fortunately knew enough to decipher the gist of what was being said. " – ready to put these savages to work," one was saying.

"We are waiting on the Commander's order. He's been preoccupied this afternoon."

The other two chuckled, uncaring as Bellamy writhed under the uncomfortable heat of the sun, his wrists already chafing. "I heard. Some new plaything."

"Brought in from this batch. Very exotic-looking."

Bellamy stopped shifting, focusing all of his efforts on their conversation.

"He seemed very pleased when she was presented to him. Almost enough to appease him for the failure to capture Lexa."

"His merciful mood won't last for long. Someone will pay for that for sure."

The three Desert Men seemed to notice Bellamy staring, and they hushed. He realized that he needed to keep up the façade of ignorance, and he shouted at them. "Hey! Why don't you say that in English, see how brave you feel then saying it to my face, huh?"

This seemed to do the trick, and the men turned away from him. "He does not understand," one of them assured, and Bellamy internally breathed a sigh of relief.

"He is from the same tribe as the Commander's new pet. They were found near each other when they were knocked unconscious."

"What does she look like? I did not catch a good look at her."

"She's said to have eyes the color of the sky, and hair the color of the sun. Very beautiful. What I'd give to have one night…" The men continued on, their conversation growing lewder, and Bellamy felt blood roaring through his ears. He had a terrible sinking feeling he knew who they were talking about.

"Apparently she has quite a mouth on her," one of the men chuckled, and Bellamy couldn't say how, but he just knew. There was no longer any doubt in his mind.

They were talking about Clarke. He had to save her, before it was too late.

A/N: Hi! So for those of you who know me from "Entropy," welcome back! And for those of you just reading my stuff for the first time, nice to meet you, and hope you enjoyed. This story is going to be a little darker and sexier, but I think you guys will like it. Remember, reviews = inspiration, and they make me write faster. Please let me know your thoughts, as this is a different type of fic for me. Thanks for reading! xoxo, TATF