The 100 fanfic: There's a Kind of Hush All Over the World
Bellamy and Clarke share a quiet moment after the events in the City of Light.
1,397 words | [PG]
I wrote this story back in 2016--one of the first The 100 fics I ever wrote, but I was never satisfied with it. In an effort this year to post old, mostly-finished stories, I edited this, and I'm putting it out there as is. It's not the greatest quality, but it's finished and out in the world now. Also, not sure the title relates to the story much, but it's what I named it back then so I'm just sticking with it. I think I planned for this to be much more, but it is what it is.
Cleaning up is going to be hard, Bellamy thinks, looking around the throne room as confused and wounded Arkadians and Grounders alike come out of their chip-induced stupor. The blood can be washed away; wounds can be stitched, but their souls have been shattered by the things they were made to do. None of them will ever be the same. They all have demons lurking, haunting their dreams. Some more than others.
He watches Clarke leave. She said she wanted some time alone. To think. To process what had just happened. He wants to be the friend that gives her space, but he’s worried. About more than just her and what happened in the City of Light. He’s worried about how her experience will affect everyone. Honestly, he’s afraid she’ll leave again. He hates that he feels this way-that he’s scared of her walking out the door. She said they’d do things together from now on, but... And he hates that he can’t trust her the way she trusts him. Is it really so wrong that he needs some kind of reassurance after Mount Weather?
He works his way through the room, avoiding the fallen and the mourning and the devastated. In one corner, Miller is leaning against the wall, Bryan curled in his lap as Miller runs his fingers through his hair. He’s not looking very well. Bellamy’s eyes dart over to Abby, but she’s got her own mess to clean up. Kane is so wracked with guilt and whatever emotions are running through his head that he can’t move.
All around the room similar scenes repeat themselves as people recover.
Bellamy finds Clarke down the hall, head in her hands. She doesn’t say anything when he slides down the wall to sit next to her. She doesn’t say anything when he puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder, not sure what else he can do for her. And he doesn’t say anything when she leans her head on his shoulder. Or pushes her face into the crook of his neck as she cries. He just holds her, running little circles over her back. Because what else can he do?
Eventually her sobs slow. Then stop. She sniffles, wiping at her nose. He loosens his grip so she can sit up, but doesn’t take his hand from her back. He thinks he needs the contact more than Clarke. She was always the stronger one.
“Sorry,” she says.
“What are friends for?” He’s trying for lighthearted, but there’s too much hanging in the air-too much death and despair weighing down on them.
She laughs anyway-a hallow, distant sound. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard her laugh for real. Their life-the one they’ve shared on the ground-has always been this. Full of pain and fear and uncertainty. From the moment he met her on the dropship, arguing about opening the door, to fighting for their lives against an invading Grounder army, to rescuing their friends from Mount Weather, to this. Have there ever been moments where they just sat?
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
When he looks down, her head is against his shoulder, her eyes shut. He adjusts his arm draped across her, hoping it isn’t too obvious that he’s pulling her closer. When he doesn’t answer right away, her eyes flutter open to look at him. She looks tired. Not the kind of tiredness that comes from a loss of sleep, but the kind of bone-weary tiredness that comes from never resting. He just stares at her until he realizes she probably actually wants an answer.
He clears his throat, looks away. “I was just thinking how we never get this. To just rest. There’s always some new crisis on the horizon.”
She sighs. “There’s more to come.” Her voice drifts off. “There’s always more.”
Bellamy squeezes her shoulder, letting her know he’ll be there by her side no matter what. He’s seen what happens when they’re apart-worlds crumble, people die. Then again, that happens when they’re together. But at least then he doesn’t hate himself so much in the aftermath.
He’s not sure when he fell asleep, but he’s woken with a kick to his leg. He blinks up at Murphy. “What?” He yawns then leans his head against the wall, letting his eyes close again.
“Everyone’s heading back.”
“Back where?”
“Arkadia. Home. Whatever. Guess they’re going to sort it all out there.”
“Great,” Bellamy murmurs. a few moments pass, but he’s still aware of Murphy standing there. “What?” he asks again.
Murphy jams his hands in his pockets, his skin up to his elbows is still coated in dark black blood. Bellamy tries to quell his irritation, remembering what Murphy did for Clarke.
“Are you coming or what?”
Bellamy opens his eyes, frowning. “You’re going?”
Murphy shrugs. “I don’t have anything here. Neither does Emori. Not sure we’ll stay, though.”
“I’d offer you a spot on the Guard, but I don’t trust you any farther than I can throw you.”
“I just saved your girlfriend’s ass. You should be a little more appreciative.”
“And Clarke saved Emori, so I guess we’re even.”
“That doesn’t count-wasn’t you.”
Bellamy cocks his head. “What about the elevator?”
“I had to yell at you to shoot him. And I saved your ass in the tunnels.”
“Because we were in the way of your escape-”
“Guys,” Clarke says, “I’m trying to sleep. Can you have your lover’s quarrel some other time?”
They both look down at her, her head nuzzled against Bellamy’s shoulder. Bellamy bites back a smile. Murphy snorts, shaking his head. Then he gives a dramatic bow. “Whatever you say, princess.” He starts to walk away then turns, walking backward. “I better have a good job waiting. None of this sweeping up after people. A real job.” He disappears around the corner.
They’re both quiet for a while. Bellamy knows he should go help load the wounded up, get things organized for the march back to Arkadia, but he doesn’t have the strength to leave Clarke-it’s the first time he’s seen her rest in, well, in ever. She squirms, trying to get comfortable, so he pulls her closer, resting his cheek on the top of her head.
“Can we just stay here forever?” he asks.
“Right here in this very spot?”
“Yeah. I’m good here.” He yawns again.
There’s a rumble of voices from the end of the hall. Something crashes. The voices get louder. Bellamy’s head falls back against the wall. It lasted all of five minutes. Clarke sighs. She pushes away from him leaving his side cold. She gets to shaky feet and looks down at him. She appears so much bigger from down here-so much larger than life, like the way he has her built up in his head.
“Come on,” she says, reaching a hand out. “It’s time to go put the world back together.”
He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t hesitate. He takes her hand as she helps him to his feet. For a few seconds, their fingers stay entwined. There are words on the tip of his tongue-things he wants to tell her before it’s too late, things he’s kept to himself for too long, things he’ll continue to hold back because it’s never the right time. She bites her bottom lip as she watches him.
“What are you thinking?” he asks her. Because he really does want to know.
She looks away, her fingers leaving with her eyes. He squeezes his hand into a fist, trying to push away the feel of her touch before it plants too deeply in his heart.
“I’m thinking it’s a long walk back to Arkadia.”
He falls into step next to her just like he always does. Just like he always will if he has any say in it. “That is not what you were thinking.”
“How do you know? It’s my brain.”
He smiles down at her. “Because, princess, you are always three steps ahead of whatever is going on. Walking home is only step one. So where’s your head?”
The corners of her lips pull up in a very rare genuine Clarke smile. “Already in Arkadia having a long shower and an even longer nap.”
He laughs. “Sounds like a plan I can get behind.” They turn the corner side-by-side. Together.