A/N: This is my first multi-part Bellarke fic, and whoo boy, you guys, it's going to be a beast. I've already written eight chapters and I've barely gotten started. I hope you love it as much as I do!

Bellamy couldn't help but glance at his watch for the tenth time in an hour. Normally he actually liked guard duty since it got him away from all the people, the noise, the careless laughter and merriment. It felt wrong to be so relaxed and easy-going after knowing nothing but fighting and death and loss for so damn long. He didn't feel comfortable anymore, not that he ever really had, but at least before, he had a purpose. Now he didn't need to do much besides enjoy himself and make friends. He'd never really been good with the making friends part. Except…

But he couldn't go there. It never did any good. A solid year had passed and nothing had ever changed, so there would be no point in letting himself think about it at all.

He shifted on his feet and contemplated sinking into the ground and leaning back into the fence, maybe closing his eyes for a few moments since heaven knew sleeping at night just didn't happen. Guard duty was, for all intents and purposes, a fucking joke. Their part of New Earth was so different than what they'd known when they first hit the ground. There were no wars anymore, no foes to guard against. Well, the Holograms (as he'd taken to calling the other clan) had theirs, but those enemies had been held at bay. Guard duty was just to wave away the occasional stray who'd ventured too far from home, or to take in the weak and wounded, patch them up, and then send them on their way again.

That day, however, he was restless. His senses felt sharper and there was that little buzz in the back of his brain that told him it was going to be different. Moments passed and when nothing happened, he scoffed at himself for being foolish and anxious and started to relax back into the fence.

And just like that, a head appeared over the hill.

Bellamy straightened instantly, his spine going stiff and his eyes narrowing warily. The figure on the horizon was getting closer by the second, and he relaxed imperceptibly when he saw how slight the person was. He wasn't a warrior, judging by his clothing. Bellamy waited cautiously, wondering if the newcomer posed a threat; his hand stole to the stock of his rifle just in case.

The figure took off the cap perched on its head, and as the long, silky blond hair tumbled from its restraint and flowed down her back, his heart stuttered and stopped for a brief second before restarting, pounding him to death from the inside out. It's her, his brain screamed. She's back.

He took one faltering step forward, then dropped his rifle and burst into a run. He didn't care that he was already telling her more than she should know. It didn't matter. She's back.

Her face registered recognition a few short seconds before she was in his arms, and he clutched her to him the way he thought he'd never get to do. She clutched him, too, and he reveled in the fact that she didn't push him away or stand stiffly in his arms. She'd missed him as much as he'd missed her, and that was all that mattered right in that moment.

He pulled back, eyes scanning her face in disbelief and that slight fear borne of wondering if he was imagining things, but it was still her. She smiled up at him and her arms remained tight around him, as his did around her.

"I take it you're happy to see me?" she teased, and it was both familiar and disconcerting. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a smile on her face, at least not a genuine one.

"Clarke." His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in months. He realized belatedly that it had been a year, as a matter of fact. A year since he'd used that voice, the one he unconsciously reserved for her alone. "I thought you were dead. When you didn't come back, I thought…"

"You thought I finally came up against something I couldn't defeat?" she finished, and he nodded reluctantly. "You should know better, Bellamy. I survive. It's what I do."

He stepped back, his arms dropping from her waist as his hand found hers, grasping it tightly as if he never planned to let her go. Her hand squeezed his just as tightly; something had changed and they both knew it. She wasn't hiding how she felt from him anymore, which meant he didn't have to hide from her, either.

And then he remembered. And his hand loosened, and hers fell.

She looked at him funny but he resolutely ignored it. Instead, he lifted his chin to gesture at his post at the gate in the fence, indicating that he needed to get back to it. She followed him, both of them falling silent for the moment. There was too much to say, and in some ways there was nothing to say at all.

He resumed his position, picking up the rifle but holding it casually, the barrel pointed down with the muzzle digging into the dirt at their feet. He took a breath, knowing he had to tell her everything. Or most everything, anyway. Some stuff could wait.

"Things have changed a lot since you left," he said quietly, and she nodded. "Some of our people have left and new people have joined us. We merged with a clan that Jaha sort of championed. We helped them defeat their enemies and it's been really quiet ever since. This part of New Earth is so different than the one we knew."

She leaned against the fence next to him, looking up at the sky. "So is Jaha back to being the boss around here?"

Bellamy shrugged. "Mostly. Gem, the Holograms' leader, defers to him for the most part, but she's still kind of an authority figure for them. Of course, they all pretty much think he's a hero and a saint, so they'd follow him over a cliff if he asked them to." He smirked, showing his disdain for their blind loyalty.

Clarke raised an eyebrow. "The Holograms? What the hell kind of clan name is that?"

He flashed her one of his rare grins. "That's not really their name. They call themselves the Wind People because it's really windy here in the summer months, but I call them the Holograms because it's not so fucking boring."

She laughed a little, but then her curiosity got the best of her. "Why the Holograms? That seems kind of random."

He sank back into the fence alongside her, pretending to ignore his shoulder brushing against hers. "The Wind People were hiding from their enemies when Jaha first got here. They knew he was coming, though, so they waited, and when he showed up they projected themselves as holograms into the mansion. For the first few weeks that was the only way Jaha even saw any of them. It wasn't until later he found out they were real people. I used to call them the hologram people when he first brought us here, and it stuck."

Clarke glanced around, noting the open fields around them, the forests in the distance. "How did you get here, anyway?"

"We walked. We came by boat. We lost people to dehydration and landmines and a river monster, but eventually we made it." He looked over at her thoughtfully. "Speaking of which, how did you get here?"

She looked away, but not before he could see the discomfort in her eyes. Part of him wanted to tell her she didn't have to say anything; he didn't really need to know. The other part of him insisted that yes, he did need to know. She walked out on their people, on him, and he kind of deserved an explanation as to what kept her away for so long and why, after all this time, she'd finally come back.

After a few moments she looked back at him, and he could see the pain all over her face. "I hated what I'd become, Bellamy. I hated what I'd had to do to protect our people, and I couldn't face myself, let alone anyone else. So I found someplace where I could be someone else. I wasn't a leader, I wasn't a fighter. I wasn't even Clarke Griffin. I wouldn't give them my name, so they named me Iona." The corner of her mouth lifted in a brief smile. "In their language Iona means 'island' and they thought it suited me, because I arrived all alone and kept to myself for so long."

He considered her words. "It only suited you because they didn't know you. You're not an island and you'll never really be alone. Not as long as I'm alive."

She lifted her eyes to meet his and the moment was charged, the atmosphere around them feeling electric. Finally he couldn't take it anymore and he dropped his gaze, which she took as a sign to continue her story. "I eventually told them a little bit about what had happened. Not everything. I still had this instinctive need to protect my people, so I wouldn't give them names or details. Just that I'd had to do things for the greater good, things that changed me, and I didn't want to be that person anymore.

They let me stay with them until a few weeks ago, when they told me it was time to find my people and figure out how to be the person I wanted to be, and not the person I'd become. They told me it was time to stop hiding from who I was and to face what I'd done, and to do that I needed to rejoin the people who'd been part of that journey."

She fell silent, and Bellamy, against his better judgment, reached out to take her hand again. She slipped her fingers between his and neither said a word, just enjoying the comfort that being with the other brought. For Bellamy, it was a moment he knew would end much sooner than he was ready for. "Before we go back in, there's something else, Clarke," he started, hating that he had to tell her. "It's about Abby."

She flinched, but her eyes were dry when she lifted her body from the fence and turned to face him. "She didn't make it, did she?" she said, but it wasn't a question.

He hesitated. "She did," he began, and there was a quiet sigh of relief that made him feel worse. "She survived the journey here. A few months ago a member of a reconnaissance team got trapped in a ravine about five miles away. He was injured trying to climb out, so a rescue team was sent. I was one of them. Abby was another." Clarke nodded, and Bellamy could see she was just waiting for the bomb to drop. He pushed forward resolutely. "She went down into the ravine to help him. She set his arm so he could try to make it out on his own."

"Who was it?" Clarke interrupted. "Who did she save?"

"Marcus Kane."

She inhaled sharply. "I should have known. She would absolutely risk her life for Kane."

He shook his head. "She would have done it for anyone, you know that. Kane tried to convince her to go first, but she insisted that he needed the help more than she did. We got him up safely, then it was her turn." He paused again, dreading telling Clarke the next part. "She was almost to the top. I had my hand out, ready to grab her and pull her up, and… she slipped. Her foot dislodged some rocks and it started a rockslide."

Tears slid down Clarke's face as the brutal truth of what he hadn't said yet sunk in. "Did she die immediately, or did she suffer?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It was instant." He felt her start to pull her hand away and he gripped it tighter, refusing to let her withdraw from him. "She landed on her back, hitting her head on a sharp rock. We could tell she was gone by the time the dust settled."

The tears continued to slip over her bottom lashes as she stared at him hollowly, and Bellamy couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled her back into his arms and stroked his hand over her hair, feeling the shoulder of his uniform soak through as she pressed her face to it. She shook silently, never having been prone to vocal breakdowns. His fingers tangled in the blonde strands, cupping the back of her head and cradling her against his chest as she mourned the loss of her mother for the second time.

Eventually the tears subsided and she pulled back, wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve and taking a deep, shuddery breath. "At least the worst is over, right?" she asked shakily.

He kept his mouth shut, knowing there was still one more thing he had to tell her. But not yet. She'd had enough of an unwelcome homecoming and he wasn't going to add to it until there was no other choice.

He glanced down at his watch and realized his replacement would be there any moment. "Let me show you around, as soon as Carver gets here."

"Carver?"

"One of the people we picked up along the way." He caught sight of the man and nodded in acknowledgement, then ushered Clarke away. He didn't want to answer questions about her just yet.

Bellamy opened the gate for Clarke and she stepped inside, gaping at the splendor that met her eyes. He imagined she'd been able to see the top of the imposing mansion as she came over the hill, but she clearly didn't expect such luxury, nor did she expect a little village of actual houses, small and rustic though they were. "You seriously got lucky, didn't you?" was all she managed to say.

He smirked. "We worked hard for this. The mansion was all that was here when we first got here. We built everything else after the battle." He glanced around, seeing things through her eyes. "It's nicer than anything I ever imagined we'd have, that's for sure."

He watched as her brow furrowed, and recognized the moment she took note of the fact that everything was still and quiet. "Where is everyone?"

"They're all in the mansion. It's cooler during the mid-day hours than being outside or in the smaller houses. There are pools and air conditioning and televisions. Everyone would rather be in there anyway. The houses are mostly for privacy and sleeping."

"And yet you're out here all alone, when the sun is the hottest."

He shrugged again. "I'm the captain of the guard. It's my responsibility to take the crap shifts."

She raised one eyebrow, impressed, but he could see she knew there was more to it. "You'd rather be out here in the sun, alone, than in there with all of them, huh?"

He wasn't surprised she'd accurately assessed the situation in less than two minutes. "I can't hear myself think in there. It feels like it's all play, all the time. There are some people who do other jobs, but it's only a few hours a week. Except for those of us in the guard."

"Which is why you signed up for it." She shook her head. "You never take the easy way, Bellamy. It's one of the things I missed most about you while I was gone."

He wanted to smile, wanted to tease her and find out exactly what else she missed, but he couldn't bring himself to go there. "I'll take you up to the mansion when you're ready. There'll be a room there for you to stay in until we can get a house built for you, unless someone else wants you to stay with them."

Clarke flinched; the idea of being a charity case or a burden clearly made her uncomfortable. "I can use a tent, or I can build my own damn house. I don't need anyone to take care of me."

He nodded, having suspected that would be her response. "Are you ready to go inside?"

She stopped, shaking her head slightly. "I'd rather wait out here for a little while."

Before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth, Bellamy found himself saying, "You can rest in my house. They'll all be in there for a few more hours." He took her to one of the larger houses, placed strategically to the right of the mansion. He'd been fine staying in a tent, couldn't fathom the idea of having that large of a space all to himself, but as the captain of the guard he was expected to have the nicest home.

He opened his door and watched her face as she stepped inside, looking around in shock. It wasn't as fancy as the mansion, but it was reasonably large and nicely furnished. It didn't look anything like a place he would actually live in. He wasn't surprised that Clarke was having a hard time reconciling it with him.

He moved quickly through the house, leading Clarke to his bedroom before he could change his mind. The house was big enough to have a spare room, but there was never a need to furnish it. He wasn't unaware of the intimacy of he and Clarke being alone in his room, and he mentally cursed himself for his inability to keep her at arms' length when he knew he needed to. "This is my room," he said, his voice going a little gravelly. "Rest in here for awhile. I'll be in the living room if you need me."

Bravely, she turned to face him before he could escape through the doorway. "What if I said I already know I need you?"

It shocked him a little. Clarke had always been better with actions rather than words, and she was never willing to admit that she had feelings for him. He chose his words carefully to avoid stumbling over them. "Right now I'd feel better if you rested. We can discuss everything else later," he lied, but his face must have been convincing because she nodded and sat on the bed.

She looked around, taking in the simplicity of the room, and a small, soft smile curved her lips when her eyes met his. "I missed you, Bellamy. I wish I'd gotten here sooner." Heat curled through his gut as she lay down, her face pressing into his pillow, and he knew he wouldn't be sleeping that night because the scent of her on his sheets would be tormenting him.

A/N 2: For those of you who are here because you've been following my Olicity stuff, I promise I'm working on the next chapter of The Retreat. This just grabbed ahold of me and wouldn't let go, so it's been getting my attention the last few weeks. LOL