Title: "Follow the Leader"

Author: Lila

Rating: R

Character/Pairing: Clarke, Clarke/Bellamy, Clarke&Raven

Spoiler: "Spacewalker"

Length: Part II of III

Summary: Finn lives; Bellamy still gets the girl. Clarke comes to terms with herself too.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

Author's Note: A lot of things to share. 1). The more this fic develops, the more it feels like a companion to "My Tears Are Becoming a Sea". The former explored the consequences of Finn's death, but the latter explores what could have happened had he lived. I'm annoyed that he continued to blame Clarke for his actions, the excuse that he was trying to save her, and it will be a key theme: how Clarke rebuilds her life with that guilt heaped onto her shoulders. 2). The last time I wrote anything over a light R was a "Dark Angel"(!) fic over a decade ago, and while this fic is by no means smut, it's probably the most detailed sex scene that I've written since. Please do not mock, although feel free to laugh via the privacy the internet affords. Either way, the rating just went up. 3). As with most of my multi-part fics, I'm bad at estimating story length. It will now be three chapters rather than two. Thank you for the support for Part I. Title courtesy of Matthew Ryan. Enjoy.

Life returns to normal in the days after Finn's sentence. They work and they plan, build structures for winter and prep an attack on their enemies. Clarke barely remembers her life on the Ark, can't believe she ever lived in a world at peace. She wouldn't trade it though, her life on the ground for the safety of the Ark. Down here, at least she's free.

It's never been more real than when she sees Finn, confronts the bonds that tie him to his crime. It's been a month since he left, a long month of planning and compromising, and she's reviewing last minute preparations with Lexa when he walks by.

It takes her a minute to recognize him.

His skin is darker and his hair is longer, but it's the changes to his face that take her most by surprise. There's a small blue teardrop inked into the skin of his right cheek, just beneath his eye. Even when he smiles at her, it looks like he's weeping.

She stops in mid-sentence, because he's whole and seemingly unharmed. The Grounders didn't go back on their word. If they can keep this part of the bargain, the rest of her people have a chance too.

"I'd like to speak with Finn," Clarke says, intentionally phrasing it like a command. "I need to report back on his condition."

Lexa doesn't look pleased, but doesn't turn her down either. She needs this alliance as much as Clarke. "You have five minutes," she says, leaves the threat in her voice as she rolls up the map and walks off in Indra's direction.

Clarke has the table to herself, but Finn's time isn't his own. He can't shirk his responsibilities to make small talk with one of the Sky People, so Clarke slowly crosses the square to start the conversation.

Finn's smile widens when she's in his space, so wide it nearly cracks his face. "You're a sight for sore eyes," he says and puts down an empty water bucket.

"How are you?" Clarke asks. She's proud of how even her voice sounds, like she's asking about no more than the weather.

"Check out my arms." Finn flexes, muscles rippling under the thin fabric of his shirt. He is bigger, stronger too, but it's not the question Clarke was asking.

"Finn…" she starts, but he shakes his head, cuts her off with another smile.

"I'm fine. If you really want to know, it feels good to be useful."

Clarke understands that feeling, better than she understands most things. It's why she likes these meetings with Lexa; it's one of the few times her mom eases up. She takes what she can get, even if she wants more.

"But your face?" she asks and the smile falls from his lips.

"One down, seventeen more to go…" he trails off.

"Finn!"

"It's how they remember what I did. They want to be sure that I never forget." He laughs without humor. "As if I could ever forget." It's the first time Clarke's heard him admit he was at fault for what happened at Lincoln's village. It takes her by surprise, this turn of events, and he seizes the opportunity to change the subject. "How's Raven?"

Clarke blinks to get back on track, forces her mind to focus on the topic at hand. "I don't think she's put her wrench down since you left."

Finn's smile is full of nostalgia. "It's how she keeps from going crazy."

"I guess. She made enough radios for both camps combined. When we leave for Mount Weather, communicating with each other will be the least of our problems." It's good news, a rarity in their world, but the smile falls from Finn's face again. "What?"

"They won't let me go."

"On the mission? Why not?" They need all the help they can get. Clarke figured Finn would top the list of those deemed expendable.

"For them, not being able to fight for your people is the greatest of insults." He looks at her with eyes full of regret. "When you bring our people home, it won't be because of me."

There's a note of annoyance in his voice, and he looks at her in a way that asks Clarke to take his side, and it makes her skin crawl. She realizes, in all their conversations about the terrible thing he did, she's never heard him say sorry; he's never actually taken responsibility for the eighteen lives that he stole.

"You still think you're the hero," Clarke gasps, doesn't hide her disbelief. She thought they were making progress, but he's just revealed his true colors. "You might be sorry those people died, but you don't think you did anything wrong."

"Clarke…" he starts, voice laced with desperation. He's losing control of the situation and she can actually see his body tremble as he fights the urge to touch her.

"You killed eighteen people," she says flatly. "You murdered them in cold blood, and until you take responsibility for that…I don't want to see you anymore." She walks away before he can respond, and it's a mean trick, because he can't follow, but it feels good, the pain she knows he feels as she turns her back on him.

Lexa is waiting across the square, watches Clarke approach with a quizzical expression. Clarke takes a deep breath, puts on her mask. When she faces Lexa, she's the cool counterpart the Grounder leader has come to know. "He doesn't get more visitors."

Clarke doesn't look at Finn for the rest of the meeting, although she can sense him moving around the camp. He's become a stranger, the villain in this story, but he still wears the face of a boy she used to love.

Her talk with Finn sits in the pit of her stomach, rises back up in a flood of bile when she remembers the stubbornness in his eyes. How can he truly repent for his crimes if he won't face all he did wrong? How can they do better if it's built on a lie?

Bellamy is waiting outside her quarters and he doesn't so much speak as talk with his entire body. There are questions in his eyes and concern etched into the space between his brows and his shoulders tense as she draws near. It's the last part that gets her, that fighting stance she knows too well, but she's in no mood for it tonight.

Her own shoulders slump and her head feels incredibly heavy, almost too heavy to hold upright, and Bellamy's mouth quirks into a sympathetic grin as she approaches. "That bad, huh?"

"I saw Finn." Her words cut through the night like a slap and Bellamy's smile melts away.

"What did he say?"

Clarke swallows down the bile. "He doesn't seem to get what he did. I think he understands that eighteen people are dead, but I'm not sure that he knows it's his fault." It hangs in the air, the way he foisted that blame on her.

Bellamy's face twists angrily. "Fucking Spacewalker," he curses under his breath.

The nickname is a misnomer, but the sentiment isn't wrong. Clarke remembers the two kids in the dropship, the lies only revealed by Raven's untimely arrival, the excuses he made for the lives he took in her name. Finn might not have wasted a month's supply of air, but he's still perfected the art of floating away from his obligations.

"Yeah," Clarke says softly to the dirt. "Fucking Spacewalker."

"You okay?" Bellamy asks after a beat. He sounds worried, but Clarke's too tired to care. Or maybe she just doesn't care. She's seen Bellamy at his lowest; there's no harm in letting him peer inside her just the tiniest bit.

She tries a nod but it's too much, the energy it takes to raise her head, so her chin kind of wobbles under the curtain of her hair.

"Clarke," Bellamy sighs, grasps her hips so she falls forward into the muscled planes of his chest. He grunts as she digs her nose into the dip in his sternum, but doesn't push her away. He lets go of her hips instead, slides his hands up her back until his thumbs press into the base of her skull.

His breath catches in her hair as he kneads the knotted muscles, in and out, in and out, while her breathing slows to match the even beat of his heart. She can feel it thudding against hers, separated by little more than a thin layer of skin and bone.

"Where'd you learn to do this?" Clarke manages to ask, her voice muffled by the worn cotton of his shirt.

"O spent sixteen years under our floor. I learned a few tricks to make it easier."

Nothing about him changes, but Clarke knows what it means for him to share his past with her, and she smiles into his chest, right above his heart. "Octavia is lucky to have you."

He doesn't respond, but his hands still a moment, rough fingertips catching in the fine hair at the nape for her neck. He pulls away, signaling the end of the massage, but Clarke can feel his hands on her long after they part ways; she can feel his steady presence when she closes her eyes and falls into a fitful sleep.

She's lucky to have him too.

Her theory is tested during a unity feast several days later.

It's held at Lexa's headquarters, in the basement of an abandoned subway station, and in a different life, Clarke would have taken the time to explore the intricate mosaics and scribbled graffiti. In this life, she's too concerned about getting through the meal without incident to pay much attention to their surroundings, and it comes back to haunt her during the first toast.

The Grounders are, rightly so, still on edge about the massacre, and Gustus insists on testing Lexa's drink before she sips from a bottle of moonshine that Kane presented as a gift. Clarke lets out a relieved breath as he raises the goblet to his lips, because it feels like they're finally making progress, so she barely holds back a scream when Gustus lets out a strangled cry and collapses.

Spears are drawn and noise fills the room, and Clarke closes her eyes while her world falls apart again. She stays silent as the Grounders file out to decide her people's fates. Octavia and Lincoln pace and Raven tinkers with a piece of wire in the corner and her mother and Kane talk in hushed tones. Clarke doesn't even care what they're discussing. Her mother might be chancellor, but it's in name only. She rests her head in her hands while she tries to come up with a solution. Bellamy sits at her side the entire time and while he doesn't say anything either, she feels calmer knowing that he's there.

Then, Lexa starts interrogating prisoners.

They take Raven first. She'd been loaded with weapons at the gate and angry about the entire event because they wouldn't let her see Finn, but they'd also found a vial of poison in her things.

Bellamy holds Clarke back as they tie Raven to a post and hand Lexa the knife. "I take no joy in this, Raven," Lexa says solemnly. "But this time, justice will be done."

Anger flares anew in Raven's eyes at the mention of Finn and she glares at her captors. "I didn't do it. How is that justice?" she hisses, but the evidence is too damning. Lexa ignores her and slices through Raven's upper arms. Indra follows by cutting a swath across Raven's stomach.

Bellamy's hand tightens around Clarke's elbow as Raven's screams fill the clearing and she desperately replays the events of the day: the search at the gate, Gustus nearly knocking over the goblet in his haste to protect Lexa, how quick he'd been to blame Raven. He'd been too quick, without hesitation or doubt, and the truth clicks into place.

She tugs free of Bellamy's hold and ignores his protest, turning to the assembled Grounders instead. "I need that bottle now." Lexa grants her request and she reaches for the bottle, a carafe of frosted glass that someone brought aboard the Ark centuries ago. "One of your people tried to kill you, Lexa, not one of mine. I can prove it." She takes a hearty swig, keeps chugging through her mother's cries and the Grounders' gasps. She wipes her mouth and confirms her hunch. "The poison wasn't in the bottle. It was in the cup."

Bellamy meets her eyes, the worry in his gaze shifting to fury as he turns all that rage on Gustus. "It was you. He tested the cup, he searched Raven."

Lexa's face is blank behind her warpaint, but her eyes show the depth of her betrayal. "Gustus would never hurt me," she insists even as she turns to her trusted protector, eyes blazing behind her mask.

Gustus doesn't deny it though and Lexa's normally calm face twists in betrayal. Clarke turns away when Lexa picks up her sword and rushes into the bunker to get away from Gustus's screams.

It takes less than five minutes for Lexa to execute the traitor, barely the blink of an eye, and she's all calm efficiency when she and her guard come inside to finalize the agreement. But she can't quite hide the pinch of her lips or the way her nostrils flare, and Clarke hurries through the meeting before anything else goes wrong.

Nothing does, and the Sky People are quickly on their way back to Camp Jaha, ready to launch their attack in two days. Kane leads the procession, while Abby rides with Raven in the wagon. They've been allowed to keep the horses, a peace offering from Lexa, and Clarke spends the long walk home thinking about the first time she saw them, that day on the bridge, the blood that was spilled again and again. She watches the horses' tails swish back and forth, listens to the even clip of their hooves on the path. Today could have ended differently, but they found another way. She has to believe Mount Weather will be the same.

Bellamy walks quietly at her side, rifle cocked and eyes constantly scanning the perimeter. They've been granted safe passage but Bellamy accepts no assurances. She feels safer knowing he's watching over her.

"How'd you know it was Gustus?" she asks after they've been on the road an hour. When she exhausts her thoughts on the horses, she returns to the near battle they just escaped. It had been one thing to prove Lexa wrong, but another to find the right culprit.

Bellamy is quiet a moment, makes a show of peering through his rifle scope into the trees before he finally turns to look at her. It's dark but there are stars and they light up the intensity in his eyes. "He'd do anything for her, to protect her," he says softly, never breaking their gaze. His eyes darken even more. "It just made sense."

He keeps looking at her, hot and intense in the starlight, and the message couldn't be more clear: for her, he'd make the same choice.

Clarke clears her throat, but her voice is still raspy when she speaks. "Of course." Bellamy watches her with a knowing grin, even when she makes an excuse about checking on Raven and hurries to the front of the group.

She feels his eyes on her the entire way home. It takes everything in her not to look back.

Bellamy kisses her his last night in camp.

Most of the Ark wreckage has been repurposed for housing or spare parts, but there are some sections that were ruined beyond repair. Clarke finds Bellamy perched atop a section of the Go-Sci station that landed on its side. A piece of the once mighty wheel rises awkwardly from the earth, reaching almost to the stars.

They're especially clear that night, so many stars that she loses count. On the Ark, they seemed close enough to touch but on earth they seem more real. When Clarke closes her eyes and tilts her chin towards the sky, she can almost feel them, cold and glittering against her cheek.

Bellamy has chosen a particularly precarious piece of wreckage, wide enough for two and level enough to recline. He's on his back with his hands propped under his head. His eyes are closed but he's awake, Clarke can tell from the way a slight smile curves his mouth and he scoots over to make room.

She slides down next to him, and he's long and lean but still manages to take up all the space. She can feel him too, the heat drifting from his skin. It's a cool night, but he keeps her warm without a single touch.

"Tell me a story," she says quietly, looks for constellations amongst the stars. He's given enough speeches; she figures a story is easily in his wheelhouse. Science was always her forte, although rarely the physical branches. She knows they meant something in antiquity, princesses and heroes and brave rebels. She wants to know how they won; she needs to believe her people will too.

Bellamy shifts and points to a spot over Clarke's head. "Do you see the Big Dipper there?" He takes her hand, large, strong fingers wrapping around her smaller ones, and helps her find the right sightline.

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust, to locate a pattern amongst so much light, but then she find it, exclaiming softly when she finds the dipper. "I see it!"

Bellamy chuckles, a laugh that rumbles its way up their joined arms and makes her discovery even better. "Okay, this is the hard part." He takes her hand again, adjusts its position. "Look at the bucket of the dipper. The northeastern point should rise up a bit." He waits for her confirmation before continuing. "Keep looking in that direction until you see a star that's brighter than the rest. That's the North Star."

Clarke tries to remember why it's familiar. She can name all two hundred six bones, each muscle group and related tendons and ligaments, but this star's significance eludes her. It's frustrating and she hates being frustrated. "Why is it so important?"

Bellamy lowers their hands but doesn't pull his away, even when Clarke gasps from the pins and needles making hers ache. He only flexes their fingers in unison, tries to get the feeling back. "Centuries ago, the United States was a nation divided, half slave and half free. Polaris is the only star that remains in a fixed position. Wherever we are in the world, we all see the same thing. When slaves were escaping to freedom, they'd follow that star."

He tugs her a little closer, so their upper arms brush, and Clarke even rests her temple against his shoulder. "You leave for Mount Weather tomorrow."

"I know."

She pauses, tries to find the right words. They've sacrificed so much for this alliance, for the promise of a future. She needs him to understand what's truly at stake. "Thirty-four dead," she says softly, sucks in a breath around the weight lodging in her chest. She already closed the door on Bellamy once; she won't do it again. "I can't lose you too. Okay?"

"Clarke," he sighs, cups her jaw and turns her head so she's looking right into his eyes. It's dark but she they're black and burning and filled with promises. "I'm coming home."

She bites her lip to keep from feeling more. "I won't accept anything less."

He smiles, all laughter and joy. "Just this once, I'll let you give the orders." Then he surprises her, leans in and presses his mouth to hers. It's light, barely more than a butterfly kiss, but his lips are soft and warm and burn as they slide over hers. He's still smiling when he pulls away, tender and wistful as he brushes her hair from her face. "In case I get lost, I'll follow the star."

He pushes to his feet and holds up a hand, helps her down from the Ark and walks her back to her tent. He'll be gone in the morning, but some of the tightness has eased from her chest.

Bellamy has yet to break a promise.

They leave for the mountain.

Clarke hates the plan, but there's no getting around it. Mount Weather has the weapons, but the combined Sky People/Grounder armies have the element of surprise. As Bellamy pointed out during an early planning session, if she could make it out, he could make it in. The idea sticks, expands and broadens, and before Clarke knows it, she's standing outside their camp watching Bellamy, Lincoln, and Wick head towards the tunnels.

It's a simple plan: Lincoln leads them through the tunnels; Wick disables the security system; Bellamy watches their backs. The bulk of the army will move in through a hatch at the mountain's peak and release their people. Clarke worries that the plan is too simple. If anything goes wrong, there are no alternatives. If anyone is captured, he'll be lost to the mountain forever.

The camp resumes mobilization once the trio departs through the gate, but Clarke hangs back a bit, watches the strong line of Bellamy's back as he heads towards the forest.

A hand slips into hers, long-fingered but small, and Clarke looks over to see Octavia at her side. Her dark head is held high but her hand grips Clarke's like a lifeline. Clarke can't imagine what the other girl is feeling, her brother and lover marching off to war, but she understands it a bit. Her chest feels tight just from the thought of Bellamy never coming back. "It's a good plan," she says and squeezes Octavia's hand.

Octavia nods briskly but doesn't look away as Lincoln disappears into the trees. "I hope it's worth the risk," she says softly, blinks rapidly at what might be tears.

Clarke watches the sway of the leaves in the morning breeze, the sky lighting up in milky shades of red and orange. Sunrise still takes her breath away, even on a day like this.

Another set of footsteps interrupts the quiet and then Raven's standing on Clarke's other side, her mouth set into a thin line as she silently takes Clarke's free hand and holds on tight.

The sun climbs higher in the sky and the colors fade to a bright, brilliant blue. The girls say their own prayers but ask for the same thing: they pray the people they love will come home.

To everyone, but mostly Clarke's surprise, the plan goes off without a hitch.

Lincoln leads them through the tunnels and Wick dismantles the computers and Bellamy knocks out the guards without shedding any blood. It's more than anyone could have hoped for.

With the security feeds out, the combined army is able to easily slip into the mountain and free their people. Just the threat of radiation exposure brings Cage to his knees. There was much discussion about the size of the army, but Clarke's glad they chose to bring a considerable force. All the Grounders and many of her own people are incapacitated, and there's a group consensus that anyone can be a medic when necessary. Lexa leads the group out, but Clarke supervises the liberation.

She spots Bellamy halfway down the column, carrying a blonde girl named Bree. Clarke remembers her well; she was one of the girls in Bellamy's tent the night Raven fell to earth. She expects jealousy, a hot flash of envy rushing over her cheeks, but she only feels pride at the man he's become, how much he's changed since those early, chaotic days. He just risked his life for people who aren't Octavia, and is working to save them still.

He catches her eye as he moves down the line, a bright, dazzling smile breaking out across his face.

She feels like their first night on the ground, two-headed deer and giant snakes be damned, and she remembers the way she smiled when Jasper crossed the river, like anything was possible, like she was where she was always meant to be. She feels all those things now, but more, because so much has happened since and the world still feels full of possibility.

She doesn't hide any of how she feels when she smiles back.

There's pandemonium when their ragged party arrives back at camp. Nearly all the Grounders need medical treatment and Harper and Bree can't walk. Abby rises to the challenge and creates a makeshift hospital, the adult members of Camp Jaha and Grounder civilians tasked with helping the injured.

Clarke watches as the forty-seven reunite with parents and each other; there's practically a line of teenagers waiting to hug Bellamy. Monty won't leave her side and Fox keeps gazing at her with adoring eyes. It's a lot of attention but she's too relieved by the turn of events to be embarrassed.

Across the camp, Lexa is talking in hushed tones with Indra and Kane and Clarke starts making her way towards them. There's the issue of the reapers, and what to do with the mountain men, and she doesn't want them making a decision without her.

Abby catches her arm before she reaches the small group. "Let it go, honey."

Clarke jerks back, blinks up at her mother. "What?"

Abby smiles, like she did when Clarke was small, like she can make everything better. "There's nothing more you can do tonight. Your people are home." She nods her head towards where the rescued have gathered, then glances over at the overflowing med-bay. "I got this."

Clarke's tempted to protest, to push back, to point out all the many things that still need to be done, but just this once she lets her mom decide for her. She's done her part. She's saved the day, saved her people. She's owed this.

"Okay," she says, watches Bellamy take a seat next to Miller on a fallen log.

She heads for the fire. She heads to Bellamy.

"Where's Finn?" Monty asks then passes the moonshine to Jasper. He's been staring gloomily into the fire since Clarke joined them. Maya's still trapped in the mountain and he's worried about her, but he perks up at the mention of Finn's name.

That familiar tightness lodges in Clarke's chest, clenches as she takes in her friends' eager faces. They deserve the truth, much as she doesn't want to tell it. "He's at the Grounder camp," she finally says, glares at Murphy when he snorts from across the fire.

"Shut up, Murphy," Bellamy snaps, but Murphy just rolls his eyes.

"Don't sugar coat it, Clarke," Murphy says. "He killed eighteen people and landed in Grounder prison."

She keeps glaring at him, although she's thankful that he left out why Finn went on a killing spree. "Finn kind of lost it," she tries to explain. "It's a long story, but he's staying with Lincoln's people to pay for his crime."

Monty and Miller exchange glances, worry and concern passing between them, and a bit of pity too, and it makes Clarke want to get away. She needs to get away, but it's also the wrong thing to do. She's a leader – running away isn't an option.

Bellamy slips inside her head, reads her the way he's been doing more and more lately, and makes a joke about Miller's beard. The conversation turns, something about chocolate cake and rock music, but Clarke's having trouble focusing because Bellamy's hand has disappeared beneath her jacket.

It rests just over the waistband of her pants and his fingers are calloused but still soothing as his hand rubs small circles across her lower back. She wants to give him more, rest her head on his shoulder and let him take her weight, but she's a leader and she needs to be strong.

She doesn't brush his hand away, lets his fingers skate over her bare skin. It gives her all the strength she needs.

She goes to him later that night.

Bellamy's quarters are in the remains of Tesla station, not far from where he grew up, and he has a single room with a bed and chest, but a window that lets the moonlight in.

His turns in while she checks on each of her charges, makes sure they know where to sleep and the location of the latrine, before she starts in the direction of the quarters she shares with her mother.

She can still feel Bellamy's hands on her, the warmth of his skin and the strength in his wrists, and she's had enough of being strong. She did all she needed to do. It's time for what she wants, what she deserves.

He's in bed when she slips into his room, sheets tucked around his hips and moonlight highlighting the contours of his bare chest. He was muscled when they landed but the ground has made him stronger, tougher, and all the more beautiful. She sucks in a breath at the sight of him, and it's loud enough to wake him up.

Bellamy smiles at her sleepily and pushes up on his elbows. "Clarke." He looks at her with amusement, like she's playing some kind of epic joke on him.

He couldn't be more wrong and she's grateful for it, because it gives her the courage she needs to smirk knowingly as she slowly slides down the zipper of her jacket. He doesn't react when her jacket falls to the floor, or when she tugs off her boots and socks, but his eyes round slightly as she pulls her shirt over her head. He swallows hard as her pants follow and she's walking towards him slowly in her bra and underwear.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and her smile turns endearing as he works so very hard to keep his eyes on her face.

Clarke doesn't answer, just leans down to kiss him instead. It's hesitant at first, no more than that kiss under the stars, but then she opens her mouth to take a breath and his tongue slips inside and it's hot and hard and she finds it difficult to breathe for entirely different reasons.

Then, it gets slow between them, even when neither of them are wearing any clothes and he's sliding fingers and tongue down the length of her legs. He keeps looking at her too, his eyes soft and almost sad, and he touches her like at any moment she'll break.

It's sweet but not what she wants. Finn was all feeling, fear and desire and grief rolled into a furious meeting of their bodies. She doesn't want that, but she wants more than this. She wants him to give her something she'll remember into the next day.

"Bellamy," she sighs and tugs at his hair until he raises his head from where he's pressing soft kisses to her knee. "I…I want more. I'm not fragile."

He rests his weight on his forearms and just looks at her, all that sadness pooling in the dark depths of his eyes. "It's not about you," he says softly. "I need this for me." His fingers trace patterns over her inner thigh, circle her belly button, press gently over the points of her hips. It's like he's trying to memorize her, store this night away for another day because…

"You think this is a one time thing," she says softly.

His fingers still. "A lot happened today. I know it's a relief –"

She resists the urge to roll her eyes and reaches up to kiss him instead, hard and desperate and full of all the things she's been holding back. "I thought you might die," she says against his mouth. "But then you came home. You came home and I didn't have to hide anymore." She slides her hands down his back, grips his hips and pulls him flush against her. "I've wanted this for so long."

Bellamy takes control, like the early days, and his hands and mouth are everywhere and Clarke can feel everything, every nerve lighting up as she arches against him. "You ready?" he asks and she nods, clings to his shoulders as she slides down around him.

He gives her a moment to adjust and she's never thought of herself as one of those girls, but she can't hide her sigh when she realizes he's inside her, part of her, and nothing will be the same between them again.

She's the first to move, using her knees for leverage as she picks herself up and falls back again, and continues setting the pace even as he pushes up so her breasts press against the hard planes of his chest. It's nothing like anything she experienced with Finn, especially when she comes apart in his arms and there's something very much like love swimming in his eyes.

She doesn't look away even though she knows he sees the same things in her.

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