Up in Flames

Lucawindmover

Chapter One

"Waking Up"

Clarke Griffin woke slowly, as if rising through water. She was aware of her limbs and shaky breathing and a terrible headache far before she could move her head or open her eyes. She was having a hard time stringing her thoughts together and she knew she'd been drugged with something. Groaning, she shifted her leaden limbs, pushing herself up against the pillows in her bed.

Wait, pillows? Where the hell was she?

Finally getting her brain to send the right message to her eyes, she opened them and felt instantly blinded by white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, and the bedding all lacked any sort of color. She squinted into the brightness, trying to use any detail at all that might indicate her location.

The bed was small, only big enough for one person but still far more spacious than her sleeping arrangement at the drop ship.

The drop ship!

This thought caused Clarke to jerk herself out of bed and stumble forward on rubbery legs. By the time she reached the door set into the far wall, she'd managed to get feeling back in her toes. The door was locked and she couldn't see out.

She clenched her jaw as she realized someone had changed her clothes, dressed her in the same white as the rest of the room, and bathed her. The watch she usually wore, the one belonging to her father, was gone. There, on the skin above her wrist, a puncture wound from an I.V. leered up at her ominously.

"Hey!" her voice cracked as she called through the door, hoping someone on the other side might hear her. She banged and called again but didn't hear anything in return. The doors and walls could be sound-proofed. She had no way of knowing.

She had no way of knowing anything.

Frustrated, she shuffled to the corner of the room and slumped to the floor, her back to the wall. With her face in her hands, she concentrated on taking deep breaths. She knew she shouldn't over-tax herself. She didn't know how long she'd slept. Long enough for her body to show mild symptoms of disuse and that was disconcerting in itself.

Were her friends here too?

She didn't have to wait long to find out as the door opened suddenly and a person was shoved roughly through the opening. Clarke tried to jump to her feet, hoping to rush her captors and thus escape. Her coma-weakened legs didn't cooperate and she tripped over her own feet, landing on the floor next to the other captive as the door slammed shut. She didn't so much as get a glimpse of the people out there.

"Cowards!" she screamed at the door, her voice hoarse from disuse.

"Princess?"

The prone form on the floor next to her rolled over and Clarke found herself face-to-face with someone she thought she'd never see again.

Her shoulders sagged and she let her head fall to the floor in relief. "Bellamy," she said softly, allowing herself a moment to be thankful he hadn't suffered the same fate as the Grounders. He'd escaped the ring of fire.

Bellamy Blake was similarly clad all in white. He'd also been cleaned and given first aid. He pushed himself up on weak arms until he managed a sitting position.

"Where the hell are we?" he asked, frowning and looking around the room.

"I have no idea," she said, watching his eyes. She hadn't made herself sit up yet. Just the thought exhausted her.

"Do you think this is what the Grounders meant by 'Mountain Men'?" he asked. "Those crazy suits they were wearing kind of made them look like those pictures the Grounder drew in his book."

Clarke pushed herself up on her elbows. "What suits?" You mean you saw them?"

He nodded.

She looked away and took a deep breath. "I thought you were dead," she said simply. "You should have been dead."

"You can't get rid of me that easy," he said, his trade-marked smirk sliding into place. Clarke could tell it wasn't genuine and she pursed her lips. He sighed, his shoulders drooping a bit. "Finn and me, we got out of the way of the blast. Used the tunnels," he said. "But then those damn suit guys came in and with the gas and everything…we knew we couldn't take them. There were only two of us. So we followed from a distance, waiting for a chance. Looking for a weak spot."

"I take it that didn't go well?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes before he continued. "Yeah well. They got to this big door in the side of a cliff and started stripping you guys. I mean everything. All the clothes and shoes and whatever, tossing everything into a big bin. When they got to you…I think Finn and I both just kinda lost it," he paused and looked away, training his eyes on the door as if he expected it to open. "They took your dad's watch. So yeah, we rushed them Got in a couple of hits. I think Finn actually killed one of them when he ripped the guy's facemask off. Then it went black. I don't know how long we've been here. I woke up while they were dragging me down the hall."

"Well that explains how they were able to get you in here without a fight," she said. She pushed herself up to sitting and dropped her hands in her lap. "Because I'm pretty sure someone would have been bloody otherwise."

Bellamy rolled his eyes but Clarke could detect the slightest upturn of his lips, fighting the smirk he had freely given her when he'd been faking it.

"So now what, Princess?" he asked.

"I guess that depends."

"On what?"

She shrugged. "Oh whether we're patients or prisoners."

Bellamy shook his head. "They took us with guns and have us in a room without a handle on the inside. There's no way we aren't prisoners."

Before any further discourse could be had on the subject, a monitor set into the wall next to the door lit up, displaying an elderly gentleman sitting behind a desk. Clarke's eyes widened and she glanced at Bellamy who seemed equally stunned.

"Welcome," said the man on the screen. His bright blue eyes, frosty hair, and wrinkles set into his face gave him a gentle look. Clarke didn't trust him. "You've reached Mount Weather and not a moment too soon."

Clarke sat up a little straighter and she could see Bellamy followed suit.

"You are finding yourselves coming out of chemically induced comas. There was a lengthy decontamination period through which it was much more pleasant for all involved for you to be asleep. We here at the Mountain don't have a tolerance for radiation the way you from the Ark have developed. Enough years living in space has given your generation, and possibly the one that came before you, the ability to withstand levels of radiation lethal to our people."

"Explains the suits you saw," Clarke interjected. Bellamy nodded thoughtfully.

The man continued. "The fact is, our people are dying anyway. We have fewer children born in each generation and fewer of those children are able to bear their own children. We are facing a crisis you are uniquely poised to fix."

Bellamy crossed his arms. "I don't like where he's going with this."

"Of the fifty of you we recovered from your ship, twenty are female. We have paired each of them with one of your males. The remaining ten of your males have been paired with ten of our own fertile women, the few who remain."

Clarke felt her chest tighten. She concurred with Bellamy on this one.

"All we require of you are children," the man said. "One from each pair. Once you have given us a child, you will be free to leave the mountain. Of course you could stay and raise your child here if you wish, under the condition that you would also provide more children. But the one child is the only requirement for your release. I regret being unable to give you a choice in this matter. Unfortunately, our people will cease to exist in another two generations if we do not get this new influx to the population. I was elected to save our people and I will do this above all else."

The blood rushed in Clarke's ears and her face warmed. "They can't force us to have children," she said, looking at Bellamy. His jaw tightened and he balled his hands into fists. He didn't respond, continuing to glare daggers at the screen in front of them.

"Once the female in your pair has tested pregnant, you will be allowed new freedoms. A mess hall and recreation area are awaiting all of you. You will be reunited with your friends as soon as the pregnancies are confirmed. You will be well fed, sheltered, and protected for as long as you are here," the man paused for a moment. "We look forward to working with you in this endeavor."

With his piece said, the monitor blinked black and then settled on white, fading into the paneling on the walls.

Clarke continued to stare at the blank space for a moment, trying to wrap her brain around the information she'd just received. It hit her all at once, their captors' demands, and she felt herself starting to unravel. She pushed to her feet, needing to move but having nowhere to go.

"They can't do this," she said, shaking her head and shuffling her feet. "They can't. This is ridiculous. I refuse. I absolutely refuse."

Bellamy stood as well, standing back and out of the way of her pacing. "He didn't threaten conditions for refusing. Why?"

Clarke threw her hands in the air. "I don't know, Bellamy. I just…I can't…I just can't…" she trailed off, her breathing becoming labored. She was having a panic attack. She knew the symptoms even though she'd never suffered through one before. Growing up in space, she'd always promised herself she wouldn't have a child. In addition to the Ark conditions being undesirable, she'd never wanted to be a mother. She hadn't entertained the idea once they'd gotten to the ground either.

She could fight Grounders, hurricanes, mutated predators, Reapers…but it was the idea of having a child in this fragile and broken world that scared her more than anything else. "They've reduced us to less than people. 'Males and females' he said. We aren't even people to them. Just breeding machines. Why aren't you freaking out?"

Bellamy held his hands up as if to fend her off even though she paced on the other side of the room. "When have I had the time to? And for that matter, why are you freaking out so much? Aren't you supposed to be the level-headed one?"

Clarke gulped and moved over to the bed, taking a seat on the side. "They want me to grow another human being inside of me. A whole little person. You can't possibly imagine how scary that is."

"I don't have to imagine it. I actually witnessed Octavia being born. I've seen childbirth and it's fucking scary, okay? There's no way I would want to inflict it on anyone. Trust me," Bellamy paused for a moment. When Clarke chanced a look in his direction she could see he had his arms crossed and his feet planted, a posture she recognized. "We won't let it get to that point," he said as if it were the easiest of suggestions. "Whatever it is they think they have over us, whatever they think they can use to manipulate us into this…kid…thing…we just won't let them. Simple as that."

Clarke laughed humorlessly. Of all the people she could have gotten stuck in here with, she was glad it was him. If anyone could get them out of this situation, Bellamy would. With her help of course. This thought loosened the pressure in her chest. She took a deep breath and nodded. They would handle this as they'd handled everything else, by the seat of their pants and with varying degrees of success. Together.

"Come hell or high water, right?" she said with a smirk.

Bellamy's brow furrowed and he shrugged.

"Sorry," she said, rolling her shoulders. "Just something my dad used to say." Thinking about her father made her feel stronger, a little less anxious.

At least until the lights dimmed. Clarke's first thought was one of relief. The lower light didn't hurt her eyes so much in the white room. The Mountain Men simulated evening this way so people could sleep, much as they had done on the Ark. But then she heard a hissing sound that stood the fine hairs on the back of her neck on end.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

He nodded. "Is it coming from the vents?"

Clarke stood and crossed the room to stand under the air vent. "No, I don't think so. There's no airflow here. But look up there," she said, pointing to several small holes in the tops of the walls around the perimeter of the ceiling. "I bet there's some kind of gas coming out of there." She pulled up her shirt to cover her mouth and nose but it only took her another couple of seconds to realize it would do no good.

The sensation came over her like a wave of fire rolling through her veins. It was so disconcerting at first she didn't recognize that it was pleasure. Heat rushed to her face and she turned away before Bellamy could see. They were pumping an aphrodisiac into the room. It was so strong Clarke had to bite her lip to keep herself from groaning as everything between her knees and her navel burned. Her legs felt like rubber as she took a few steps toward the wall for support. The movement was a bad idea, she understood too late, as just the friction of her thighs rubbing together for those two steps caused her to whimper.

"Okay, we have a big problem," Bellamy said from behind her. He still sounded like he stood on the far side of the room, for which Clarke was endlessly thankful. With her body betraying her at the moment, she wasn't sure she could keep her physical behavior in line with her mental processes.

"No kidding," Clarke replied, breathlessly. "Now I see why they didn't make threats. They knew the drugs would take care of it for them."

She could hear his heavy breathing in the enclosed quarters and it certainly didn't help the situation. She had goosebumps along her arms.

"Well I'd say it's pretty damn effect," he said.

Clarke gulped, knowing exactly what he meant. "You too then, huh?"

He laughed humorlessly.

She grit her teeth, needing to take a deep breath but not wanting to put any more of the aphrodisiac into her system than was absolutely necessary. She could still hear the hissing sound from above and wondered how much longer they would keep pumping drugs into the room. She couldn't help but worry about how everyone else was holding up. Had they already succumbed to its effect? Were her friends already well on their way to becoming parents?

The thought of sex, of her friends in particular having sex right now, caused her to groan and clamp her thighs together. She hadn't meant to. It had been entirely involuntary.

"Okay, you gotta stop making sounds like that," Bellamy said, his voice gravelly and low. "It's taking everything in me right now to stay pinned to this wall. I'm gonna have to take care of this."

Clarke licked her lips. "Take care of it?"

"Don't make me explain myself, Princess. This is bad enough as it is."

The realization of what he meant hit her like another blast of heat and she pressed her forehead to the wall to keep herself upright. Somewhere behind her he had his hands on himself, working out all the sexual frustration caused by the drugs in their system. She nearly lost it.

She'd never even thought of Bellamy this way before. He'd been her enemy, her ally, her partner. Somewhere in there he'd become her friend, someone she could count on. He had her back. Bellamy trusted her and valued her. He didn't look at her like a thing to be protected or worshipped or desired. She was a whole person to him and he was the first person in her life to have made her feel this way. Peripherally, she'd always realized he was attractive, that other girls in their little rag-tag group desired him. She also knew he was no stranger to sexual pursuits and yet somehow she'd never personally desired him.

Until now. Right now when she knew his drug-heated blood currently pooled in the same erogenous zones troubling her, she desired him. She knew, knew, he would somehow be able to dispel this frustration within her, this desire so strong it bordered on pain. He was taking care of his. Surely he'd take care of hers too, if she asked.

She shook her head and took a breath, slipping her hand inside the waistband of the white shorts they'd dressed her in. She wouldn't ask him to do it. She could do it herself. It wasn't as if she'd never done this before.

But as her fingers hit her soaked undergarments, she whimpered against her will. She was too sensitive.

"You're killing me over there, Princess," Bellamy groaned.

His groan finally did her in. She felt her knees quiver and she closed her eyes. "Bellamy…I, uh. I need your help," she said haltingly, more embarrassed than she'd ever been in her life.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and hoped she wouldn't have to explain any further. She kept waiting for him to come up behind her but he didn't. After a moment of feeling her stomach tie in knots, he finally answered.

"Rules," he finally bit out. "I…don't feel like I can trust myself right now. So…rules. We need them."

Clarke squeezed her eyes closed and bumped her forehead against the wall a few times. "I'm going to be honest with you," she said with a shaking voice. "Even if we make rules, I'm not sure either of us will be able to stick to them right now. This drug is really damn strong."

She must have said the right thing because a moment later she could feel him standing behind her. He leaned into her from behind, one hand on the wall next to hers and the other running down the arm attached to the hand she still had in her pants.

The heat coming off him was intoxicating. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, turning her face toward his neck. The skin there was so soft and inviting, smelled clean and crisp but with an undercurrent of something she could only describe as Bellamy.

His right hand followed down her arm to her waistband, slipped beneath it, and cupped her hand. He pulled her hips back into his and she could feel his erection pressing into her from behind.

"Okay," he said breathily. "Only one rule then. I pull out. I'll be damned if we give them what they want."

Clarke was a mess of warring sensations as she nuzzled his neck and she couldn't quite get his words to make sense. "Pull out of what?"

And then she opened her eyes and met his in the gloom for the first time since the drug had started wreaking its havoc. They were full of unguarded lust and something else. Permission. He was asking permission. She completely understood.

This was the ultimate question of trust, her worst fear come true should he not hold up his end of the bargain.

She nodded once and he immediately crushed his mouth to hers.

"I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust. I'm breathing in the chemicals."

Imagine Dragons "Radioactive"

A/N: Revised 7/27/16