A/N: This is my first story for The 100. I tried to stay as in character as much as I possibly could but I think the characters are more like their season three selves than season one, even though season one is the point in time this story was based on. Except Finn does not exist in my story because he was the most annoying character in my opinion, and long story short, I hated him. This story is about Clarke being shot while out in the woods and Bellamy and the others having to remove the bullet. I tried my best to not go into too gory details. I hope you all enjoy!

"Help!" There was a loud cry from a distance, just past the camp walls. "Someone Help! Open the gate!"

Bellamy pointed to one of the boys guarding the wall before aiming his own gun toward the gate, "Who is it?" His finger automatically went for the trigger of the weapon in preparation of the answer.

"Connor" the guard replied. "And he's carrying someone."

Bellamy took his finger off the trigger but did not lower his gun. Two guards were now standing on either side of him, guns ready to fire. "Open the gate" Bellamy ordered. By now many of the hundred had acknowledged the cries for help and dropped what they were doing to attend to the chaos.

The doors to the camp opened and Connor walked through, shirtless, and holding an unmoving person in his arms. "It's Clarke" Raven said, pushing past Bellamy and the guards to run towards the unmoving girl. She stopped just short of the two unsure of what to do to help.

Bellamy paused, his mind racing. He couldn't see her face, but he noticed the blonde hair tucked underneath Connor's arm, and concluded that Raven was correct. Hushed chatter began in the background. Some people began to ask each other what happened while others came up with their own theories. It took Bellamy a long second to take in the situation. He himself began to come up with his own speculation as to what had happened. Currently, Clarke was lying unmoving in Connors arms. Something or someone must have attacked her. For a split second, he considered the idea that this was a sign of war but before he could think about revenge, his focus shifted to Clarke.

"Drop your weapons" Bellamy finally said. He made a motion towards Connor. "Get her into the medical tent." Removing the gun strap from around his body, he handed the weapon to one of the guards and quickly followed behind Connor and Raven. "Everyone stay clear" he shouted the last order before pushing the flaps of the tent open.

Clarke was placed on the only bed in the center of the large tent, Raven quickly at her side, grasping her hand for comfort. When Bellamy noticed Clarke's eyes were open, he breathed a sigh of relief. Not taking his eyes off Clarke he questioned Connor. "What happened?" His voice was firm, but the worry in it was evident. Before the boy could answer, Bellamy's gaze travelled from Clarke's face down to her lower left torso where Connor's white, blood stained shirt was pressed tightly.

"I don't know." Connor ran a hand over his short black hair. "We were out hunting for food when we thought we heard Grounders and got separated in the run for safety." He took a deep breath. "She was shot by one of our men. I think they had mistaken her for a Grounder. I ran in the direction of the gunshot hoping it was the rest of the group who had caught something, but instead I found her lying on the ground. I don't think the shooter knows what happened and took off."

Bellamy wanted to ask where the others were, and if he knew who had taken the shot, but watching as Clarke tensed up in pain, suddenly, the answer seemed unimportant. Bellamy put a hand on Connor's shoulder and for the first time since he walked into the tent, took his gaze off Clarke and looked Connor straight in the eyes. "Go find Octavia and have her help you clean the blood off of your body and find you a new shirt. Then send her over here." Connor nodded, and with a quick glance to Clarke, whose gaze met his, left the tent.

His heart beating fast in his chest, Bellamy walked to the girl lying in pain on the medical bed. He took the hand Raven was not holding in his and looked into her eyes. "Hey" he said softly, forcing a smile to try and be comforting. "You're going to be alright." Her breathing was heavy, but she nodded slightly.

"Clarke" Raven began. "You need to tell us what to do. We're not doctors, we don't know how to help you."

"The bullet" Clarke said. "You need to take it out." Raven and Bellamy looked at each other for a split second, hesitation obvious on their faces.

"Aren't you supposed to leave bullets in?" Bellamy asked. "I thought taking out the bullet could lead to further damage."

"It can" Clarke replied. Bellamy and Raven shared another glance. "But these bullets have been down here for a long time. They could be laced with lead or radioactive material that could kill me."

Raven nodded. "Okay, then that's what we are going to do." Raven glanced at Bellamy who was staring intensely at Clarke. "We're going to take the bullet out."

Bellamy calmly stroked his thumb across Clarke's knuckles in an attempt to slow both his, and Clarke's heart rates down. "You're going to need to talk us through it, okay? Can you do that?" He asked. Raven had already released Clarke's hand to replace Connor's already blood soaked shirt with a clean cloth. Clarke nodded. "Okay" Bellamy whispered under his breath, more as a signal to prepare himself.

Bellamy placed his free hand over the cloth to replace Ravens. "Grab those pillows behind you." He nodded towards a stack of pillows in the corner of the tent, and then turned to Clarke. "We're going to have to have you sit up a little while we do this. You are going to have to see what we are doing. Is that alright?" Bellamy didn't wait for her response as he released her hand and placed it behind her back to help her sit up slightly. She moaned in response, clenching her eyes shut. Raven placed two pillows behind her head so she would still be lying down but could watch as they tended to her wound. When she was settled, Bellamy tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and smiled hopefully at Clarke. "What do we do first?"

"Alcohol" Clarke said. "You have to wash your hands and then clean the wound with alcohol. As well as sanitize the tools."

"I'll do it" Raven said. Not just talking about just the sanitation but the entire process.

Bellamy hesitated before answering. "You sure?"

Raven nodded. "I can do this." Bellamy met her gaze for a long moment before nodding in agreement.

Bellamy placed his hands on the hem of Clarke's shirt and lifted it up, carefully tucking it into the underside of her bra. It was then that he got the first real look at how much blood she had already lost. Blood was smeared from the wound, which was located just above her left pelvic bone, to her rib cage. He wanted to make a sound of dismay but decided it would only concern Clarke more.

"The Moonshine" Raven said, holding the transparent bottle at eye level. "There's not much left."

It was then that Octavia stepped through the tents flaps. "Oh my God" she breathed audibly, taking in the sight before her.

"Octavia" Bellamy said. When his sister didn't acknowledge him, her eyes glued to the cloth covering the bullet wound, he repeated himself louder. "Octavia." She looked at him. "I need you to go get more Moonshine. As much as you can find, just bring it all here." Octavia looked past him to Clarke who was staring forward in obvious pain. She didn't say anything more before leaving the tent in a rush to find the alcohol.

Raven used what she had to sanitize the small knife and tweezers. While their medical supplies was limited, so far they were able to tend to all injuries. Between splinters and broken bones, no one was left untreated. While it had taken some trial and error, the hundred were eventually able to come up with a system that worked. When someone got hurt, people stepped up to help, whether that meant taking over someone's job or finding sticks that were good enough to make a splint. It wasn't great, but for a group of juvenile prisoners, they were able to realize the only way to survive was if they worked together.

Raven slowly removed the bloody cloth and Clarke winced.

"Hey" Bellamy spoke calmly, grabbing Clarke's hand in his. She looked at him. "You're going to be fine" he promised. She squeezed his hand. In that moment, he never meant a promise more in his life. "You're going to be fine" he repeated.

Octavia returned with a water bottle full of clear liquid. "Here," she handed the bottle to Raven who was standing on Clarke's left side, preparing herself to cut into Clarke's flesh. "It's all I could find."

"That'll do" Raven said, accepting the bottle, and wiping new blood that began to leak from the injury. "Okay, this is going to sting" Raven warned. She tipped the bottle an inch above the injury and the liquid spilled onto the opening. Clarke held in a scream by gripping Bellamy's hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. Bellamy winced at the sudden contact but didn't take his eyes off Clarke, in an attempt to act as undisturbed as possible.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Octavia asked.

"Can you just be here?" Clarke asked trough gritted teeth, trying not to shout in agony. "Just be support."

"That I can do" Octavia stood on the opposite side of Clarke that her brother was standing on. She did not touch Clarke, but stayed close enough to provide physical support if needed.

"Okay, Clarke" Raven said. "What do I do next?"

"Feel for the bullet." Clarke's head was tipped back and her eyes shut tight. "Stick the back end of one of the tools into the hole and test the depth of where the bullet stopped."

Raven took a deep breath and grabbed the small pencil sized tool with a sharp knife on one end. She stared at the tiny hole that was about the size of her thumb nail, and for the first time, she was hit with the reality of what she had agreed to do. While the bleeding had slowed down, thick blood was still oozing out of the hole and dripping down Clarke's side. Even covered in blood, Raven noticed the tissue that was visible due to the broken skin. Suddenly, Raven felt more sick than she had ever felt in her entire life. While Raven was one of the best mechanics on the Ark, with the ability to make anything from walkie-talkies to bombs, in that moment, she realized she couldn't do everything.

Raven placed the back end of the knife to the outer layer of skin, but did not penetrate through. Bellamy, now realizing Clarke had not made a sound of pain in a while, glanced at Raven. "What are you waiting for?" He asked, tone firm.

"I can't do it" she replied, hand shaking. "I'm sorry Clarke but I can't do this."

Bellamy released Clarke's hand and pushed Raven aside. "Move" he ordered. Raven dropped the knife on the edge of the table and walked out of the tent whispering an apology under her breath. All eyes were now on Bellamy.

"Okay, Princess" Bellamy said. "It's you and I now."

Clarke nodded quickly in anticipation of the penetration of the knife. In replacement of Bellamy, Octavia placed her hand in Clarke's and squeezed, letting her know that she was there.

Bellamy did not have time to think twice. He quickly cleaned his hands and poured a little bit of alcohol on both the knife and wound. Grabbing the now blood soaked cloth, he wiped the trail of blood on Clarke's side and took a split second to mentally prepare himself. Taking a deep, Bellamy stuck the non-sharp side of the knife into the open flesh and slowly pushed. Clarke's loud scream was enough to cover up the sound of breaking flesh the metal rod was tearing. When he hit an object, no more than three seconds later, he stopped and looked at Clarke. "I'm about and inch and a half in. Now what?"

Clarke was panting heavily. "That's good." More panting. "That means the bullet isn't lodged into any organs. Now you know where it is. You have to use the tweezers to take it out."

Bellamy slowly removed the knife from Clarke's body. It was more of a struggle to remove, as Clarke's skin had the knife tightly swallowed. As Bellamy pulled the tool towards him, he could feel more tissue tearing beneath his fingertips. Octavia winced at the sound, but held Clarke down to prevent her from squirming. As the back end of the knife left Clarke's body, blood began to pour out of the wound faster than Bellamy had seen previously. For a brief second, Bellamy stood motionless, not believing what was happening as a result of his work, but the sounds leaving Clarke's throat, a cross between her hyperventilating and screaming, brought Bellamy back to the task at hand.

"Octavia, you have to get me more cloths!" Bellamy shouted frantically. The raise in his voice was a result of the fear that washed over him. Octavia took that as her cue to work fast. She left the tent in a hurry, shouting orders at the first person she saw to gain help.

As Bellamy used his hand to block the blood, Clarke's vision began to be washed over by darkness. "Hey!" Bellamy's voice was loud. "You are not allowed to close your eyes." Clarke's eyes remained shut. "Clarke, do you hear me?" The panic in his voice was enough for her to open her eyes enough to see Bellamy's silhouette. "I need you to keep your eyes open, you have to talk me through this." Bellamy was staring at her so intensely, as if the harder he stared, the more likely she was to keep her eyes open. "Clarke can you hear me?" His voice was now just above a whisper.

"Take out the bullet" Clarke whispered so raspily, it sounded like she hadn't drank water in three months. Bellamy had to lean in to hear her. "Take out the bullet, than stitch me up."

"That's it? Do I have to clean the wound after I take out the bullet?" Bellamy didn't get a response as Clarke lost consciousness. "Clarke!" Bellamy lightly tapped on her cheek. No response.

"What happened?" Octavia asked as she walked through the tent flaps, clean towels in hand.

Bellamy stared at Clarke for a second more, before moving his attention back to the rapidly bleeding wound. "She lost consciousness," Bellamy said, quickly wiping away a single tear that had fallen from his eye. "She's loosing too much blood. We need to work fast."

While Clarke was no longer conscious to talk them through the procedure, her not being able to feel the pain anymore made Bellamy's job a lot easier. While he was able to ignore the feeling of skin tearing beneath his fingers, the sound of Clarke's cries in agony desperately made him want to stop.

Bellamy took the towels from his sister to attend to the blood.

"I need you close with the towels while I take out the bullet" Bellamy said, pouring more Moonshine over the tweezers. "Ready?" Bellamy asked Octavia.

Octavia nodded in response. "You?" He nodded.

Carefully, Bellamy inserted the tweezers into the bullet hole. Following the same incision as his previous cut, he easily came in contact with the bullet, however it was getting the tweezers to grip onto the bullet that became the challenging task. Clarke's skin was tough and held the ammunition in such a strong hold that he had to use force to separate the tweezers, the result, breaking more flesh. The bleeding began to pick up again, even with the tool still inserted, however, Bellamy was able to succeed in getting the tweezers on either side of the bullet. He started to pull, slowly at first, but when the bullet would not budge, he had to use force.

"Get the Moonshine ready" Bellamy ordered. Octavia grabbed the bottle of Moonshine and opened the cap, getting ready to pour.

Bellamy's hand began to pulsate as he was holding onto the tiny tool with all the might he had. Finally, with more effort than he had originally anticipated, the bullet began to leave Clarke's body. Once Octavia could see the rim of the bullet, she began to slowly pour the alcohol, while preparing herself for the sudden increasing loss of blood.

When the bullet was fully removed, the siblings did not have any time for feelings of relief. Immediately, Octavia had to cover the wound with a towel to slow the quickening blood loss, as Bellamy prepared a needle and thread. When Bellamy was ready, Octavia quickly poured what was left of the Moonshine over the hole, making sure some got into the incision to kill whatever bacteria the bullet had left. Bellamy than began the stitching process. Compared to the removal of the bullet, this part was easy. Octavia notice how the look of fear that was plastered on her brothers face just moments before had faded and was now scrunched up like it usually was when he was concentrating hard on something. And then suddenly, his face relaxed. Octavia looked at the now stitched up bullet hole. It had finally stopped bleeding. Their job was done.

Bellamy let out a hard breath he didn't know he had been holding. After a long minute of silence, the siblings silently reminiscing what had just happened, Bellamy pushed the tools to the side and pulled Octavia into his arms holding her close. She responded by wrapping her arms around his waist squeezing tightly.

After a few long moments, Octavia spoke first. "What now?" Bellamy kissed her temple.

"Now, I think we wait."

oOo

Clarke woke up fourteen hours later. Bellamy was sitting by her side in one of the uncomfortable Dropship chairs, one hand clasped with hers. She could tell he was sleeping from the way his head was leaning lazily on the edge of the bed and the soft snores coming out of his open mouth. Clarke wondered how long he had been by her side, but knowing Bellamy, she figured probably since she first passed out.

When Clarke realized how stiff she was, she attempted to move, using the hand that was not attached to Bellamy's to push her back off the bed. Her movements caused Bellamy to stir, resulting in him suddenly waking up. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. It became a daily thing. He would wake up during the middle of the night in a stiff bed, covered in itchy material and he would realize that he was no longer on the Ark. Whenever he finally did remember he was on the ground, he would be faced with conflicting feelings. While the freedom of being on the ground with his sister was something Bellamy had craved his entire life, sometimes, with all the conflicts with the grounders, and difficulty of trying to live with ninety-nine other delinquents, he wished he were still on the Ark.

After a moment of letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Bellamy could see Clarke staring back at him.

"Clarke?" His voice was raspy.

She weakly smiled at him. Bellamy's heart skipped a beat. She was okay. They had done it.

"You're okay" He wasn't sure if she could make out his features or not, but he was not ashamed of the smile plastered on his face that he struggled to contain.

"You saved my life," was her response.

"I had help."

"Thank you," was all Clarke could respond. While Bellamy and Clarke had not gotten off to a great start when they first arrived to the ground, their relationship and need to support one another quickly blossomed. They became two people who depended on one another to not only make decisions, but to care for and love each other. Bellamy knew in the back of his mind that without Clarke, more of the hundred would be dead, and now, Clarke was certain she would not have survived this long if it wasn't for him.

"Get some rest" Bellamy spoke. He gave her hand a squeeze. "You're going to need it." She nodded in agreement and leaned back into the pillows, closing her eyes.

For the first time since landing on the ground, Bellamy had hope. Real hope.

A/N: For some reason I always imagined this happening at some point in time throughout the first season and when it never did, I decided to write this. I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry if it may not have ended like you would have liked, but I thought this was the best place to end it. I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes I may have missed. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.