Gold. Like the petals of a sunflower.

She moved with a grace so instinctive and natural, with her eyes so blue and beset upon my lips…

What it would be like to touch them, caress them, taste them…

Bellamy Blake jolted awake in his bed, sweat beading and slithering down the planes of his chest. The dream felt so real, like it did every time; his very own mystery girl hiding in the crests of each wave, soaking up the sand around her, and calling to him, practically begging him to find her. It always felt so real that when Bellamy awoke he swore he could smell the salty sea air hovering in his bedroom.

It wasn't always the ocean, though. Sometimes he dreamt about her near the river in the woods, and sometimes she would be looking into a puddle as if it were heaven.

But then Bellamy would wake up and the reality of his life would obliterate any dream he had with his gold haired, blue-eyed princess.

He got up with a grumble and started to get dressed. With one look outside his bay window, he could already tell it was going to be a terrible day. The sky was grey and the clouds all clustered together, whispering about the oncoming storm. As it was, the rain had already started to splatter against Bellamy's window.

Dressed and ready, he walked over to his little sister's bedroom and knocked softly against her door.

"Octavia," he called. "Time to get up, champ." He heard a loud thump from her room and a hushed, "quick, go!" and wasted no more time standing outside her door. Bellamy barged in, one hand already on his hip. He jaw clenched when he caught sight of the boy trying to make his way out Octavia's window.

"It's a five story drop," Bellamy started, shooting daggers into the young boy. "You sure you don't want to use the front door?"

The boy quickly shot Octavia a look before glancing back at Bellamy, and Bellamy could already see the wheels turning in this kid's head.

The boy chuckled nervously before picking up his shoes and nodding. He tentatively brushed past Bellamy but Bellamy wasn't quick to let this kid go. Bellamy grabbed his arm and hauled him dangerously close.

"If I catch you with my sister again, you'll be walking out of here with missing limbs," Bellamy said, voice low. "Do you understand me?"

Bellamy heard the kid gulp and saw his nod, then allowed him to pass. It wasn't until Bellamy heard the sound of the front door closing that he looked at his sister.

"Seriously, O?"

"Nothing happened," Octavia said, rolling her eyes. "We were just-"

"Tah tah tah," Bellamy stopped her. "I don't want to hear what you two were doing." Then Bellamy sighed. "O, what are you doing with that loser?"

"He's a nice guy, Bell."

"No, a nice guy understands how you deserve to be treated. If he's too afraid to even walk in and out of our apartment using the front door, he has no idea how to treat a girl like you."

Octavia fidgeted with the strings on her quilt and then sighed. "Sorry," she said, lowering her head.

Bellamy waited a few seconds. "What's his name?"

"Atom," she said.

"Just be careful, O," Bellamy said, beginning to close her door again. "And get ready for school! You're going to be late."

He left her door ajar and didn't miss the loud groan she made before hearing her shuffling away.

It was going to be a long day for Bellamy.

It was pouring by the time Bellamy got to work. He had never known California to rain that much or that hard before. A freak storm, his captain had called it.

"I need you all to be extra careful driving out there on the roads," Captain Jaha said. "People don't know how to drive on wet roads. Now, get to work."

Bellamy had just gotten out of his seat when his captain stopped him.

"Blake," he called.

Bellamy saw his partner already standing beside the captain.

"What's going on, boss?" Bellamy asked.

"I need you and Collins to check something out for me," Captain Jaha started. "We got a call about some suspicious activity going on in Downtown. Usually I wouldn't think twice to send Murphy and Johnson but this is a…special circumstance."

"What do you mean?" asked Finn Collins, arms crossing over his chest.

"I don't want to jump to conclusions but," Captain hesitated.

"Spit it out, Cap," Bellamy snapped.

Captain Jaha sighed. "From the description provided by the caller, it sounds an awful lot like Griffin's daughter."

Finn stiffened notably beside Bellamy and leaned forward. "How sure are you it's her?"

"I'd say pretty sure. Griffin was just telling me last night that she hadn't come home again. This could be her."

"So, what? You want us to go bring her spoiled-ass home? If you ask me, we should leave her there. Maybe she'll learn her damn lesson," Bellamy retorted. He was in no mood to play babysitter for a spoiled little rich girl who was bored of her life.

"Then it's a good thing no one is asking you," Finn snapped. "We're on it, Captain."

Captain Jaha slapped their shoulders as he passed by them and Bellamy continued to shake his head.

"Great. Babysitter duty," he muttered under his breath.

"Stop being a dick, Bellamy," Finn said.

"Oh, come on, Collins. You're just doing this because you still think that after two years of rejection, Griffin's daughter will let you fuck her." Bellamy stormed off to his desk and picked up his gun from inside a drawer. Strapping it on his belt, he lead the way to their police car, ready to bring Clarke Griffin home.

They knew full and well when they reached Downtown. The streets were littered with homeless folk, some drunk, some high off drugs, others just eating away at their fingernails. Bellamy thought he saw a needle on one of them, but they were out of sight before he could examine it further. He'd rather be doing a drug bust than rescuing the little princess from herself.

Finn pulled the car over beside a gated home. A few houses down there were kids throwing sticks at each other, and just across the street was an elderly woman watering her dead plants.

Bellamy knew a farce when he saw one. He eyed Finn across the console and drew his attention to their surroundings. With a nod, they got out of the car.

"Looks like the princess likes to slum it," Bellamy muttered to himself. It was too low for Finn to hear but Bellamy was sure that if he did he'd get a good punch in the face for it.

A crash from inside the house jarred Bellamy back and his hand instinctively went to his gun. Both Finn and Bellamy pointed their guns toward the entrance and Bellamy inclined his head forward for Finn to go. When they reached the door, the smell of burning flesh hit their faces so hard that they both recoiled.

"Tell me again," said a muffled voice behind the door. "What are you doing to do with the footage?" It was a man's voice that much Bellamy was sure of.

A whimper sounded out and Finn reached for the knob. It wasn't until another voice called out, a softer, lighter voice, that Bellamy put a hand on Finn's to stop him.

"I'd do as he says," the voice said. "You really don't want him to char off anymore of your goods now, do you?"

Bellamy saw Finn's jaw lock and he had no doubt it was because that was the Princess's voice behind the door. She wasn't the one being tortured. Which meant…

Bellamy kicked the door in, gun raised. "LAPD!" he screamed. "Hands up!" He took in the scene before him. There was a kid sitting on a wooden chair, hands gripping the stems, burn marks on his forearms. When the kid lifted his head, panting, Bellamy recognized him as the younger kid from this morning. With Octavia.

Bellamy's hand tightened around his gun. "Hands up," he screamed again, the gun jumping forward with his momentum.

The man standing closest to Finn and Bellamy had his jaw locked and it ticked from behind his lips as he complied. His plain white T was coated in sweat and yellow stains that contrasted greatly from the guy's tan skin. It was obvious he spent a lot of time outdoors; especially from the way his muscles bulged with adrenaline and frustration.

Then he noticed the young woman leaning languidly against the counter. Her black, wavy hair fell lazily down her shoulders. The blank tank top she wore screamed against her white skin. But that wasn't what drew Bellamy in. It was her blue eyes. He had seen her eyes before, nothing special, but they struck in him something fierce in that moment. They shone with an intensity that complimented the smirk she was wearing.

Bellamy stopped short at that. She was smirking at him, like she knew his secret.

"Clarke," Finn stepped forward. "Go outside and wait in the car."

She wasn't looking at Finn though. She was looking at Bellamy, that smirk still playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Something amusing about this, Princess?" Bellamy snapped.

Her light giggle sent his blood rushing. "Oh, lots," she said.

"Finn, cuff this guy," Bellamy said pointing his gun at the man with the white T. At that moment, the young kid sitting in the chair decided to make a break for it. Bellamy was on him in seconds.

"We got to stop meeting like this," Bellamy said, twisting the kid's arms behind his back.

All the while, Clarke never moved from her position against the counter. And her smirk never left.

Loading them all into the back of the squad car was a giant fest of awkwardness. The kid started crying half way there, but with one hard look from the white T guy, and the kid shut up real quick. Clarke, sitting between the two, never spoke but starred on with amusement at Bellamy. Occasionally she would glance at Finn, but his reassuring smile turned her off real fast.

It wasn't until they got back to the precinct that Bellamy noted a difference in Clarke's demeanor. She was sitting beside Finn's desk, knees bouncing, hands rubbing down her knees. Whenever Bellamy got close enough, he swore he saw her shoulders trembling. He eyed her from across the room, calculating her movements, wondering why the sudden change. The snarky girl from the house was nowhere in sight by the time Jake Griffin showed up.

The moment he walked in everyone gave him a salute, their sign of respect, but Clarke didn't even move. If anything, she closed off even more. Jake Griffin's face was blank until he saw his daughter. Then everything became apparent. Bellamy saw the way his eyes flashed from general relief, to anger, and then back to sympathy – the same way Bellamy was with Octavia.

"Get up," Griffin said, voice gruff. There was no room for arguments. Clarke flinched a little at his volume and followed him into the interrogation room.

Bellamy couldn't make out anything through the door, but through the window he could see Griffin on the cusp of losing his shit. Clarke was still fidgeting with her hands, shaking, rocking. He had seen drug addicts do the same thing. Withdrawals.

"Answer me!" Griffin screamed. It could be heard all throughout the precinct. The commotion and bustling around the room stopped short for a few moments, everyone's attention drawn to Griffin's voice.

Bellamy debated going in there, calming him down, but then Clarke finally lifted her head. He didn't miss the single tear that fell down her cheek and Bellamy saw all the fight in Griffin go out. Griffin said something else, his finger coming out, reprimanding her, and then he sighed.

When Griffin looked up through the window, his eyes landed on Bellamy. Caught red handed, Bellamy nodded at him before going back to his computer screen logging in everything that happened at the house.

"Blake," a voice called out. It was Griffin from the interrogation room. He motioned Bellamy forward.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, watching Clarke out of the corner of his eye.

"Has my daughter been processed yet?"

Bellamy internally rolled his eyes. Of course he hadn't processed her yet because he knew the moment big shot Daddy Griffin showed up, they'd tell him to ignore the fact Clarke was at that house to begin with.

"No, sir," said Bellamy, hands balling into fists. The damn privileged, Bellamy thought.

"Book her," Griffin said.

Bellamy was frozen by his words. "Excuse me?"

"Dad," Clarke interrupted. Her voice sounded exasperated, like she had been trying to talk him out of this for a while, but the fight was slowly leaving her.

"No, Clarke," her dad started. "You want to meddle with this shit then you suffer the consequences."

"You don't have enough to hold me," she yelled, a new fight rising in her. "You don't have enough to hold any of us."

She was right on that front. Regardless of the fact that Bellamy and Finn basically caught her and that buff dude torturing Atom, they hadn't actually seen anything. And the only thing they had to go on was an anonymous call about a disturbance in the neighborhood. They had nothing to keep them in for. That didn't stop them from detaining them for 24 hours.

"Either way, I don't want you home tonight," Griffin said. He didn't spare Clarke another glance before he b-lined it out of the precinct, leaving Bellamy alone with Clarke.

There were still a lot of unanswered questions about what Bellamy and Finn had walked in on, so Bellamy took it upon himself to get them. He walked back into the hall and grabbed two cups of water before going back into the interrogation room, shutting the door behind him.

"Here," he said placing the cup in front of her. Her eyes latched on to the water and she darted forward so fast, guzzling it down greedily. She was watching the other cup Bellamy had in his hand and he shook his head as he passed it to her. She chugged that cup down too.

"Can I have more?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "Answer a question for me first."

Clarke finally looked up at him. Her blue eyes unsettled him again. He hated to admit it, but her blue eyes reminded him of his dream girl – all blonde locks and grace. Everything Clarke wasn't.

Clarke leaned forward, her elbows coming to rest on the table, locks of dried black hair brushing the cool metal. "What do you want to know?"

"What the hell was going on in that house?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a stupid question. You already know what was happening in that house."

"Why were you torturing him?"

"I'm not answering that either," she said, chuckling.

"And why the hell not?" Bellamy fought against the irritation threatening to ruin the entire interrogation.

"Because that is also a stupid question," she said simply.

"You're impossible," he sighed.

"No, you're just asking all the wrong questions," Clarke said, leaning back against the chair, nails tapping along the table.

"What would be the right questions to ask?"

"I can't tell you that. Then I'd be doing your job for you, wouldn't I, officer Blake?" She was taunting him that much Bellamy was sure of. But he thought about what she meant by asking the 'wrong' questions. Then recounted the events of that day.

"When we got there, the place smelled like burning flesh. That kid had burn marks on him. But when we patted you and your boy toy down, you both had nothing on you that could produce those marks." Bellamy watched Clarke closely, gauging a reaction.

"I'm intrigued now," she smiled.

"How did you torture him?"

"Now that," Clarke said, leaning forward again, "is the right question."

She smiled sweetly at him, a smirk coming back and then tossed the cup back at him. "More, please."

Bellamy stared at her, watching her mask come back up, knowing the interrogation, or whatever the hell that was, was over. He brought her back six more cups of water and watched her guzzle them all down in seconds.

Her eyes brightened after each cup, her muscles relaxing, her confidence returning. And Bellamy couldn't figure her out. So he booked her instead.

"A night behind bars," he told Finn later that day. "That's exactly what the princess needs."

By nightfall the commotion of the precinct had slowed, and Clarke chipped away at her nail polish counting down the hours. She had been locked up for five hours and the Atom kid wouldn't stop whimpering. Clarke shook her head before taking a sip out of her cup. She lost count how many cups of water she had asked for but she was finally starting to feel normal again.

Too close, Clarke thought, remembering what happened at the house and what started it all. She looked over at Atom again. His hands were cradling his face and he was whispering to himself.

Clarke edged closer to him. "Hey," she whispered.

Atom flinched and started to whimper loudly again. "Stop," he said.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Clarke said. It was starting to appall her that Atom even thought that. But he had every right to be afraid of her.

"Clarke," someone called out.

She turned toward the voice. "Piss off, Evan."

Evan huffed before standing from his bench and going straight to Clarke. He gripped her chin in one hand, dragging her face close to his. "Don't forget what he has on us," he said. "On you."

"I-" Atom hesitated. "I won't tell anyone, I swear!"

Clarke tried to rip her chin away from Evan's grip but he wasn't having that just yet.

"And don't forget what I have on you," he said, menacingly.

"If you let that get out, you go down with me," Clarke warned him.

"Little princess trying to scare me?" he taunted. "I'm not afraid of you."

Clarke smiled and brought her knee up with surprising force, forcing Evan to double over and fall to the floor. "You should be," she said.

"Hey," a loud voice boomed. "What the hell is going on in there?"

Bellamy had reached the gate and was eyeing Evan on the floor. Clarke came forward and wrapped her hands around the bars.

"Uh," she started. "Excuse me, Officer Blake, can I get some more water, please?"

"More?" he asked, already thinking back to the amount of cups Finn and to bring back and forth.

"If I were you," Evan groaned from the floor, "I'd keep that girl as far away from water as I could."

"It's a good thing you're not me then," Bellamy retorted. "I'll be back with water, princess."

Clarke let out a relieved sigh and fell pliant against the bars. She looked back to see Evan getting up and taking his seat back on the bench. Atom had finally stopped rocking and whimpering. And though Clarke was finally starting to think clearer, the chaos of being near another of her kind using his abilities finally easing, she knew she would never really be free from this life.

She glared at her hands, at the veins and blood running underneath. It was what ran inside her that made her different, that kept her a prisoner. She could smell the cup of water Bellamy was bringing and felt the sudden need to cry. She was a prisoner to her own powers. There was no escaping the call of Aquaria.