Well, this is it, the end. I've enjoyed writing a story for these characters and getting to explore them in a different character ark than the show. (no pun intended). Thanks for coming along for the ride. If you liked it, please review, otherwise how would I know?

Chapter 12

"Wait here. If you move, you will be killed. Do you understand?" Lincoln said, looking down at Clarke as they stood on the rise above his village.

She nodded. "I understand." Clarke was tired, bruised, battered, and hungry, but none of that stopped her eyes from feasting at the sight before her. A Grounder village, large and teeming with people, animals, and life.

He pushed her down to the ground between a large rock and a tree, hiding her from any curious eyes before striding into the village. He returned a few minutes later holding a large animal skin which he draped around her, hiding her hair and clothing completely. "Keep your head down, and don't speak. Stay with me."

She nodded and did as he said, trialing his steps closely as he wound through the village until they were surrounded by the portable animal hide dwellings. He seemed to be heading to one teepee in particular, and Clarke's heart kicked up to an even faster beat. She could feel her breath start coming in pants, and knew that she was panicking. She forced herself to push down the fear and focus on the details. Maybe knowing how they lived would help The 100 survive or relate to the Grounders. If she made it back to them, to Bellamy, alive.

Lincoln lifted the flap on one of the teepees, larger than most of the others, and grabbing Clarke's arm, shoved her inside. The heat hit her like a wave and she stumbled, landing on her knees, the animal skin he'd used to conceal her falling from her shoulders.

"Lincoln!" came a sharp report. Clarke jerked her head towards the sound, seeing an older woman, kneeling by a young woman who was obviously in the process of giving birth.

"You brought a Moonwalker?" the younger woman growled. "Now?"

Clarke looked to Lincoln, not sure she should speak. "She is their healer. She can help."

Clarke frowned, realizing that the birth was not going well. The older woman's eyes sharpened as she rose to her feet and approached the dirty and bloody teen kneeling at her son's feet. "You have birthed babies?"

"I… I have watched my mother deliver several. I might be able to help. I'd like to try," Clarke offered. "I'll need to wash my hands and if you have any disinfectant…"

The woman waived towards a wash bin behind her and Clarke looked to Lincoln who nodded, before she stood up on shaky feet. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail with a leather string, she took off her jacket and pushed up her shirt sleeves before washing her hands and arms thoroughly. As she was finishing the younger woman let out another anguished cry.

Clarke walked towards her then kneeled between her parted legs, seeing a small amount of blood, but nothing to be too worried about. "May I?" she asked, not wanting to overstep her welcome. The woman looked frightened, but nodded. "I'm Clarke, and I'm going to check on the position of your baby."

"I'm… Zora," the woman panted against the pain. She had long olive toned skin, dark curling hair and an angular face that would be beautiful if it weren't contorted with pain.

The older woman took Zora's hand and watched Clarke with hawk-like intensity. "How long has she been in labor?"

"Since yesterday morning," Lincoln answered.

"And she's fully effaced?"

The older woman's eyes darted side to side, clearly not understanding Clarke. "She's ready to push," Clarke tried again.

"Yes, she is ready, the contractions are strong, but the baby does not come."

Clarke nodded, pressing her hands to Zora's stomach, trying to guage the position of the baby. "I think the baby might be breach, turned around." The older woman nodded, having already determined as much. "I can try to turn it," Clarke offered, looking at Zora for permission.

"Save my baby," she moaned desperately.

Clarke nodded and took a deep breath blowing it out slowly before she reached in and felt the baby's bottom and legs instead of its head. The old woman looked alarmed but didn't try to interfere. "Definitely breach," Clarke said. "I'm sorry, this might hurt."

"Just do it," Zora rasped.

Clarke pushed, trying to get some room to reposition the baby, and with her other hand on the outside of Zora's distended stomach, pushed and maneuvered until the baby was head down. Zora screamed as Clarke tried to turn the baby so he was face up, but as Clarke turned him as delicately as possible, she felt the cord. "Wait, don't push, I think the cord is wrapped around his neck."

Zora began to cry and Lincoln dropped to his knees beside her, taking her other hand. Clarke's fingers slid over the slippery shoulder and head of the baby, knowing they needed to get him out as quickly as possible at that point. First the distress of being breach, and she had no idea how long the cord had been wrapped around his neck. A few seconds more and she had the cord off, at least she hoped she did.

"Push, you can push now."

Zora screamed and levered her body up with her next contraction, pushing as hard as she could. A few contractions later, Clarke could see the baby's head. "He's coming, another good push, you're doing great."

When the baby finally slid out, Clarke caught him in her hands, happy to see that he was in fact a boy, but she didn't hesitate, rubbing two knuckles over his chest firmly, trying to get the little red-purple baby to take his first breaths. "Breath," she whispered.

"My baby?"

Clarke smiled tremulously as a small wail filled the tent. She swiped the cloth the older woman handed her over the baby, clearing away some of the mess, then handed him to Zora, watching with awe as she held her child for the first time. Clarke sat back, pushing away from the new family, not wanting to intrude and Lincoln laid a hand on her shoulder, giving her another of his unreadable looks, but she hoped this one at least was not threatening.

-The 100-

Clarke had just accepted a container of water from the old woman, when another man, just as large as Lincoln and bearing a strong family resemblance, burst into the tent. "Zora?"

"We have a son," she said proudly, cradling the small baby to her breast.

The newcomer's gaze swept the tent and landing on Clarke he roared and leapt towards her. Fisting his hand in her hair and dragging her up to her knees. Clarke's heart stuttered, then raced as she grappled with his hand, trying to free herself. Then Lincoln and the older woman were shouting and standing between Clarke and her attacker, Lincoln's hand wrapped around the other man's wrist tightly.

"Jefferson," Lincoln said firmly, holding a knife to his brother's side with his other hand. "Release her."

"You brought her here?"

"She saved our baby, Jeff, she saved Washington," Zora said firmly. "Is this how you repay the woman who delivered your son?"

Jefferson backed off and Clarke fell back to the ground, exhausted. The older woman, their mother, she realized, helped her sit on a pile of soft furs, handing her another cup of water. Then she pinched Clarke's side. "Too thin," she judged as Clarke flinched away. "Get her food." She turned a no nonsense glare on her sons. "Now."

-The 100—

"Thank you for the food, it was amazing. Really, maybe the best I've ever tasted," Clarke said honestly. "But I have to go, my people will be looking for me. They'll be worried."

"You are too tired to travel. And you can't leave here during the day, you will be seen," the old woman, Hillary, Clarke now knew, decreed. "You will stay, eat, rest. Then Lincoln will take you back."

Clarke frowned, knowing that Bellamy would be worried, but not seeing that she had much of a choice.

After eating another bowl of food, flavored meats and some type of grain, Clarke settled back on the furs.

"Thank you for what you did," Zora said quietly, not wanting to disturb her sleeping child or husband.

"I don't need thanks, I was happy to help," Clarke said.

"Did you truly come from the moon?"

Clarke started. "No, we came from space. Close to the moon." She could see her words had no meaning for Zora. "Our ancestors were on space stations, exploring the skies when the war happened. I grew up in a… space station… a floating city, up there. Between the Earth and the Moon."

"Why have you returned?"

Clarke hesitated, the first question had seemed to stem from honest curiosity, but this seemed more pointed. "There aren't enough resources for all of us. We came so we could live."

"You can't go back?"

"No, there is no going back," Clarke agreed.

"They sent you alone? But you are hardly more than children," Zora wondered. Clarke remained silent, not wanting to say that their own people had deemed them to be expendable. "My sister Anya, is our village's leader. Our people are not happy with your presence. You… have caused us problems."

"We don't mean to, we didn't know there were any survivors on the ground. And we didn't know about your boundaries. We still don't, we can only guess, unless you tell us," Clarke said softly, hoping to have found an ally. "We didn't even know you spoke English until-"

"Until Lincoln became friends with the foolish girl," Zora completed. She looked Clarke over carefully. "I owe you a blood debt," she said resolutely.

"You don't owe me," Clarke denied again. "I was happy to help."

Zora's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Sleep now, no harm will come to you."

-The 100—

The next morning Bellamy returned to camp, Raven, Miller and Monroe following quietly behind him. They'd found no sign of Clarke.

Bellamy barreled into camp, going on 36 hours without sleep, but heading to the dorm room Octavia slept in instead of his own.

"Octavia, get up!" he called harshly.

"Bellamy," she said sleepily, before sitting up suddenly. "Did you find-"

"I need you to take me to your Grounder. Now!" he ordered exiting her room without waiting for an answer.

A few minutes later, Octavia exited the dorm. "I already tried to find Lincoln to see if he knew anything, he wasn't there."

Bellamy's jaw tightened at the news that Octavia continued to leave camp alone. "Then we'll wait him out."

Her chin stuck out stubbornly. "I'll go. I'll wait until he comes, but I'm taking Finn, not you."

"Clarke is my-" he roared, standing over her as if he could frighten her into compliance.

"And Lincoln is mine. I won't let you hurt him, and I don't want him to hurt you. Take it or leave it, Bell."

-The 100-

It was a long walk back to The 100's camp, and seemed even longer when Lincoln blindfolded Clarke for part of the trip so she couldn't find her way back. She wasn't stupid enough to tell him that she had seen enough of the landscape around their village to narrow down its likely location on their maps.

When Clarke paused to drink from the container they'd given her and eat some of the food she'd been sent away with, she caught Lincoln's gaze on her again. He seemed to want to ask her something. "Octavia is alright. I've been teaching her what I know about healing." He froze then looked away deliberately. "I think she still misses you. She knows she messed up. She's young, and-"

"She would have gotten herself killed if I'd let her keep coming. She has no sense."

Clarke smiled ruefully and packed away her meal. "That's what Bellamy, her brother, says."

"Your mate," Lincoln said, revealing that the Grounders were still watching their camp even if they'd stopped actively hunting the "Moonwalkers" during the cold winter months.

"He… I…" Lincoln arched one sardonic eyebrow at her flush. "If you would tell us where your boundaries are, maybe we could stop crossing them and risking a war," she said forcefully.

"It would not be a war. If we wanted you dead, you would be dead," he said flatly. "We have tried to teach you."

"Teach us with words, with knowledge, not with fear and terror," she countered.

Lincoln regarded her silently then pulled her up off the rock she had sat on to eat. "We are not far now."

Clarke wrapped the fur she'd been given over her shoulders more firmly and walked along with him. If they weren't enemies, and Lincoln hadn't had a relationship with Octavia, Clarke could see that Lincoln and Bellamy would be friends. They had quite a bit in common.

Clarke adjusted the bandage on her hand, remembering how Zora had grasped her hand and cut a 'Z' shallowly into her palm, then Clarke's and clasped their hands tightly. "You have my blood bond and oath."

Clarke didn't know what that meant, but nodded, assuming that asking or rejecting what felt like an important gesture would not be helpful. "And you have my friendship, if ever…"

Zora nodded and took her child from her husband, handing him to Clarke to say goodbye. Clarke nuzzled his head, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, letting him grasp her finger with his tiny hand. Kissing his temple quickly she handed him back. "If we meet again, we will not be enemies."

-The 100—

In the 100's camp everyone was trying to steer clear of Bellamy who was more frazzled than they had ever seen him. It wasn't a secret that he and Clarke were together or that they truly cared about each other, but to see him fall apart as the hours of her absence wore on was unnerving. The campers kept any problems quiet and took only the ones needing immediate attention to Miller or Raven- depending on the issue.

-The 100-

As they neared the camp, Clarke was amazed and horrified by how easily Lincoln led her to within 30 feet of the gate without being seen. The camp was a hive of activity already, the sun having risen a few hours prior. "Lincoln," Clarke said, wanting to thank him or something, but shouting from the guard towers drew her attention towards camp.

In seconds they were surrounded by guards, and Lincoln drew his spear, pulling Clarke into his chest, using her as a human shield.

"Stop, Miller, stop, he isn't a threat," Clarke said in a mostly steady voice.

"He's a fucking Grounder," Miller spat.

"And to him, we're fucking Moonwalkers who don't learn quickly, put down the guns," she commanded, her words baffling enough that he actually lowered the rifle from his shoulder, just as Bellamy burst through the gate, Raven right behind him.

Clarke felt Lincoln tense and squeezed his arm. "Lincoln," she cautioned, her tone begging for him to be calm.

"Clarke!" Bellamy shouted, a gun to his shoulder as he rushed towards her.

"I'm OK, Bell, I promise. He didn't hurt me. He found me, injured, and brought me back," she said, leaving the larger part of the story for a time when guns weren't drawn. "Tell them to put down the guns. We don't repay kindness with violence."

She could tell that Bellamy was torn, but as Raven tried to move past him not willing to wait for the Grounder to release Clarke, he was still focused enough to jab out an arm and latch onto her jacket, hauling her back. "Stay back," he growled.

"Do as he says, I have brought your leader home, and do not desire any conflict" Lincoln said and the shockwave from hearing a Grounder speak English washed over the assembled 100. Only a few of them had been at the botched peace treaty meeting, and many of them still had a hard time believing that the grounders shared their language, seeing them as little more than mindless savages.

"Let her go," Bellamy bellowed.

"Not until you promise me you won't shoot him. Or try to capture him," Clarke argued. She could see his frustration. "He's not our enemy. They don't have to be our enemies," she said in a softer voice, trying to get Bellamy to use reason, to see past his fear and distrust.

Their eyes caught, clashed. He didn't agree, the battle for survival had winners and losers. He intended for them to be the winner. Clarke thought there could be multiple winners.

"Miller," he growled. "Be ready, but don't shoot unless he hurts her. Got it?"

"Yeah," Miller agreed, raising his gun back to his shoulder and stepping off to the side so he had a clear shot.

"Everyone else, get inside. Now." The guards filtered through the gate, ignoring Bellamy when he nodded towards the headstrong engineer. Bellamy was frightening, but Raven was more likely to actually punch one of them. And from the glare she was issuing them, she would not take kindly to being taken back into camp against her will.

Then it was just the five of them. Bellamy lowered his rifle and walked towards where the Grounder, whose face he'd come to dread seeing or remembering, held Clarke. "You're free to go," he said, reaching out towards Clarke.

Slowly Lincoln loosened his hold on her and stepped back. Clarke walked into Bellamy's arms, sighing in relief as one wrapped around her, holding her tightly. Lincoln laid down a bundle he'd carried with them from his village, and backed away. "A gift, given in gratitude."

"Thank you," Clarke replied, twisting so she could see him as he melted into the forest.

"Wait," Bellamy called, still holding Clarke firmly to his chest. "Octavia is at your cave, I told her to wait until you returned."

"I will release her from her duty," Lincoln said with a nod.

-The 100—

Bellamy wasn't sure he'd ever been happier to hear the gate shut behind him as he, Clarke, Miller and Raven came back into camp, protected by the fence. Bellamy led Clarke straight to the drop ship, boosting her up to sit on the metal table where she usually treated patients. Monty and Raven bustled around, getting the supplies needed to clean up Clarke's various cuts, the most serious the one over her forehead.

She'd cleaned up in the Grounder's village and attempted to tell Bellamy and the rest that it could wait until morning, but was overruled. "You'd never let any of us get away with that, Clarke," Monty admonished quietly, his voice so different from Bellamy and Raven's strident tones that it cut through her stubborn resistance.

As they treated her injuries, Clarke tried to tell them where she'd been and what had happened, but was mostly ignored. "There are thousands of them. It's a big village, probably three miles from Mt. Weather-"

"Do you think it needs stitches?" Monty asked Raven, peering closely at the cut on Clarke's forehead, just below her hairline.

"They live primarily in tee-pees, made from large animal hides..."

"I'm not sure," Raven said, uncharacteristically uncertain.

"... We should ask Lincoln what type of animal it is..."

"Where's Octavia anyway, she's the best at sutures," Raven muttered.

"...and when it's in this area, since we haven't seen anything that-"

"Let me see it," Bellamy said, stepping forward only to be treated to a large sigh as Clarke gave up trying to convey actual helpful information when they were obviously not listening to her.

"It probably could have used one or two stitches, but it's closed already. Just look for infection. Is it red-"

"I know what infection looks like, Princess," Bellamy said tightly, his large hands cupping her face and angling her head one way then another to see it fully in the limited lantern light.

"It looks good, considering," Raven said, her anxiety level dropping back.

"Could use some seaweed, just to be sure," Monty offered.

"Do it," Bellamy ordered.

Clarke's eyes met his. "I'm fine. I promise. The antelope hurt me, not Lincoln or any of the other Grounders."

Bellamy's expression was tight, the muscle in his jaw visibly clenched. "Soon you'll sound like Octavia, swearing that he's our friend."

"I wouldn't go that far, but they don't have to be our enemies."

Their gazes held, clashed. Monty ignored them and went about cleaning the cuts on Clarke's hands with moonshine. Bellamy pulled off her jacket, inspecting her bruised arms as he went and therefore missing her flinch as she twisted to ease the jacket off her shoulders.

"They tried to take you once before, now they know for sure how valuable you can be to them, and you think today was a positive development?"

"They already knew-"

"More positive than her ending up lost for days or dead," Raven cut in. "Maybe you two can argue later once we get Clarke's ribs wrapped."

Bellamy scowled, an expression that would have been intimidating to most anyone else, but not to the three who were with him. "What's wrong with her ribs?" he growled, his dark gaze swinging to Raven.

"They're just bruised," Clarke said, quietly submitting to their concerned care.

Once she was all clean and wrapped up, 'like a mummy' she complained, Bellamy seemed more calm and satisfied.

As he escorted her to their dorm, Miller approached, his ever present gun slung over his shoulder. "I'll let you know when Octavia returns," he said to Bellamy, giving Clarke a cautious smile.

"I'm fine."

"You should get some rest, Miller," Bellamy said, drawing a questioning look from Clarke. "He's been up and on the for 24 hours."

"I'll turn in once she's back," Miller said simply, turning back to the fence, not needing to say who she was.

-The 100-

Undressing for bed, Clarke once again tried to tell Bellamy more of what she'd seen, but he mostly grunted in response if he responded at all. Taking her hand and tugging her towards the bed, he crawled under the blankets and animal furs, pulling her close to his side and burying his face in her neck.

"Hey, I promise I'm alright," she said soothingly, stroking his shoulders and back reassuringly. Once his shoulders relaxed some, her mind went back to the long list of things she wanted to share with him. "They had bread, Bell. Real, baked bread."

"Sounds good, Princess, now get some sleep," he said, rolling onto his back and wrapping an arm around her waist as she automatically settled against his side, curling one of her legs over his.

"... horses and even a well for water. We should look into that, see if we can limit our time and effort spent on getting water..."

"Go to sleep, Clarke, we can talk tomorrow."

Clarke frowned, but finally she paused, really looking at him and seeing the lines of weariness and worry on his face even though he was already half asleep.

"OK," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest and settling down silently beside him.

She must have drifted off to sleep, because she had no idea how much time had passed when she was awaken by the sound of Miller clearing his throat outside the curtain that separated their room from the long main hallway. "You can come in Miller," Clarke called softly, seeing Bellamy blink his way to awareness, a scowl on his face.

"Octavia's ba-"

"I can tell them myself," Octavia said in a loud voice, poking her head inside her brother's room. "Glad that you're back, Clarke. Lincoln wanted me to tell you thanks, again. Bell, you're still an ass."

"Back at ya', sis," he grumbled, lifting his arm to cover his face and pulling Clarke closer.

Octavia rolled her eyes and stormed off.

"G'night, Miller," Clarke said quietly.

"You too. It's good to have you back," the soft spoken boy said before leaving them in darkness once again.

Settling back down against Bellamy's side, Clarke sighed as his hand stroked her back. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Hmm," he murmured, his hand sliding into her hair. "You seem to enjoy going out into the forest more than staying safe with me, so I'm not sure I can know that, Princess."

Her smiled as he felt her jaw drop, a sound of annoyance escaping her throat. "A guilt trip? Now? Really?"

"No guilt, just letting you know that if you want to show me how much you love me, you can stay in camp."

"And if I won't?"

Bellamy pressed a kiss to her forehead and settled back down, his body soft and warm with sleep. "Not seeing that you have a choice, Princess. I control the wall, and you're days of wandering around the forest are over. Completely," he paused to yawn, "over."

It was a familiar refrain, and one that Clarke didn't take seriously, though she knew he meant it. He'd be reasonable again in a few days once he'd gotten over his upset emotional response to her being hurt then taken.

"Octavia is right, you are an ass."

"But an ass who loves you."

"Still an ass," she muttered taking a deep breath then releasing it before closing her eyes and letting sleep come over her once again.

-The 100—

A week later Bellamy and Clarke were woken up by shouts from the guards, rushing to the gate, they saw Jefferson standing with a contingent of warriors at his back, three dead antelope on the ground before them.

His eyes searched the Moonwalkers for Clarke, easily finding her pale head among the others. Even among the Moonwalkers the blonde hair was uncommon. "My wife is healthy. She sends her thanks."

Clarke nodded, smiling. "Washington?"

A large grin split the grounder's face. "Growing. Thanks in part to you."

"I'm happy to hear it," she said.

"Thanks for the food," Octavia chimed in, looking disappointed not to see Lincoln in the lineup.

"You wished to know where our boundaries are. We have been authorized to negotiate. In two days time, Lincoln and I will return, if you wish to have peace with us, light a fire on the banks of the river where you first became aware of our existence. We will come to you the day after."

It wasn't much, but it was a beginning and it gave a chance at peace and staying in the camp, the home they'd built. Clarke had no doubt it would be difficult, to live with the Grounders, to convince The remaining 100 that peace with the Grounders was their best option. But it was a chance.

-The 100-

Understanding grew between the Grounders and The 100 as the weeks past. They seldom had direct contact with anyone not in Anya's inner circle or Lincoln's extended family, but there at least the relationships seemed to extend beyond politics. While the more suspicious minds like Bellamy and Miller's were withholding judgment, according to the Grounders, there were other threats that The 100 knew nothing about due to living inside the Grounders territory and enjoying the protections of their treaties and strength.

Which was another argument for staying in the camp they'd made and lived in for the last eight months. The radiation levels at Quantico were higher than their current camp, and the camp was in full debate on whether Grounders or radiation posed a greater long term danger.

While Lincoln and Anya were reluctant to impart too much knowledge on The 100, Zora was less circumspect. Reapers were a threat to all of them, with their nomadic cannibalistic ways. But according to Zora the real threat was the Mountain Men. Clarke was shocked to learn that the Grounders didn't control Mt. Weather, that some other group did, someone with modern weapons, vehicles and suits.

"They steal our women, we never see them again." Clarke frowned, her mind conjuring up terrible possibilities even as she assimilated that the Mountain Men could do the same to The 100. "They only emerged from their mountain some 20 years past. We have so few women of our own..." she mused, "marriage contracts are more often than naught a deal between families, not based on love."

Clarke remained silent, remembering the young pregnant Grounder in the forest. "You disagree," Zora said, reading into Clarke's silence. "It is in our best, long term interest to breed the strongest males to the females we have left."

"But you love Jefferson," Clarke protested.

"Yes, I was lucky."

Clarke listened and learned and offered her medical help, hoping that what was offered freely would curb any attempts to take her into the Grounder village to live among them and serve as their healer. Bellamy was less than pleased when Grounders began showing up with ill children at their fence regularly, and Clarke worked to negotiate a regular periodic clinic at the Grounder village to reduce possible altercations with the tempestuous teens and the imperious Grounders.

Without medical equipment, Clarke had no way of knowing why the Grounder's birth rate for girl babies was so low, but she told Zora how the Grounders could try to conceive more girls, using ovulation cycles to time conception.

"I would like to have a girl," Zora said with a smile. "What about you Clarke? You have found your mate, when will you have a family?"

Clarke blanched, not yet ready to consider anything along those lines, no matter how she felt about Bellamy. "I... I don't... We… no…. We haven't talked about that..."

Zora laughed as Clarke stuttered, unable to formulate a response. Clarke's blush deepened as Bellamy ducked into the tee-pee. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Clarke said with relief, jumping to her feet.

"Zora," Bellamy greeted with stiff politeness.

"Bellamy," Zora said, her eyes laughing.

Bellamy's gaze narrowed, but he held out a hand to Clarke, escorting her out of the shelter and then out of the village, Lincoln and Octavia trailing behind them. "What was that about?" he questioned.


He slanted a dark suspicious look at Clarke's face, her cheeks still pink. "Nothing."

"Yep." Suddenly she smiled, clearly finding enjoyment in his confusion. "I might tell you in another few years."

He arched one eyebrow, but it only made her laugh, so he let it go. Once they exited the camp and were in the relative safety of the forest, he took Clarke's hand in his, feeling the quiet satisfaction as she slid her fingers between his, holding on to his larger, rougher palm.

Behind them Octavia laughed, and Bellamy let himself enjoy the sound, one so seldom heard for so many years. "Bellamy and Clarke, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…" she sang. He regretted ever teaching her the childhood taunt, but found that now that they were on the ground, sitting in a tree kissing Clarke didn't seem like such a bad idea. If Clarke's smirk was any indication she was also open to a literal response to Octavia's teasing, little did he know how apropos Octavia's words were in relation to their earlier conversation.

Clarke laughed as Octavia continued. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage."

"Don't encourage her," Bellamy said with a faux scowl at Clarke before turning the dark look on his sister, looking over his shoulder to see that Lincoln was as unimpressed as he was with the girls' amusement.

"I don't know about in a tree… but under a tree…" Clarke teased.

Suddenly Octavia was grabbing his elbow, looking up at him with her hazel eyes, her excitement palatable. "We should build a swing!"

"A swing?"

"From a tree, like those old pictures."

"A swing. Absolutely," Clarke agreed.

Bellamy just looked from one girl to the other, shaking his head in resignation. "Make me some rope, I'll make you your damn swing."

Octavia smiled widely before twirling away, Lincoln staying close to her, and Clarke squeezed his hand.

Life on Earth wasn't what he'd thought, and in no way did he think it would all be walks in the forest and swings, but it could be worse.

Words 5338

This chapter kept growing and growing as I added in the last bit, and the reunion between Clarke/Bellamy and the camp.

I'm pretty happy with this story, I hope you enjoyed it too. Now we all have to wait until Oct for Season 2 to debut.