#JRoth would probably deem this platonic but the author is actually bellarke trash

[shen-gong-oops]

sick of seeing ghosts

The anomaly shows you what you desire and what you fear most. Or the one where Bellamy is really tired of losing the people he loves.

this picks up right at the end of season six so spoilers guys

@bellarkebingo

read on ao3

Clumsily dropping to the ground, Bellamy stretched his leg out in a vain attempt to soothe his aching thigh. A small dark patch began to form in the fabric. Groaning he let his head fall back against a nearby tree. He reopened the stitches in his haste to search the woods. Maybe he should have listened when Gabriel said it was useless. His voice wouldn’t be hoarse, his feet wouldn’t be throbbing, and he wouldn’t have blood on his pants - actual that last one was most likely a lie. He probably already had blood on his pants from everything that went down during the adjustment protocol. Bellamy let out a second groan, hands coming up to cover his face. For the first time in six years - no 131 years, his family had been together and safe but no. He had to agree to follow Gabriel to the anomaly. He should have stayed in Sanctum. Octavia should have stayed in Sanctum. Not like they even knew what the anomaly even was! Right as they were on starting to mend, for everything. For the situation Aurora forced them into for fifteen years; for the months on the ground learning to survive; for the years they were apart. They were finally beginning to be the siblings they should have been all along. She was his sister, but no longer his responsibility. Not saying it would be perfect, they always clashed heads, but they were starting over. Then Octavia gets ripped away.

He was getting real tired of this shit

The tree Bellamy was leaning on began to shift and he immediately shifted away. Right, even the trees were homicidal here. So much for a sanctuary.

Getting up to return to Gabriel’s tent was harder than he expected. Slowly, Bellamy rose to his feet but he took at most ten steps before collapsing. Drained emotionally, physically, and mentally of any fight he had left in him, Bellamy rolled over to stare up at the stars.

Real tired.

As the suns began their descent, the green tint to the air started to intensify. The anomaly making its mysterious presence known. Bellamy was in its territory, he was at its mercy. Just like how he was at the mercy of the murderous trees. He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would over take him but instead he was thrust back into the rocket. His hands shaking at his side, his eyes locked on the entrance to Becca’s lab. He could hear a heart pounding, the sound echoing around the clearing. He could hear Raven’s voice off behind him the radiation was effecting the rocket. They needed to leave. He knew his decision was the right one in the end but didn’t make it hurt any less. They all would have died if they waited.

Opening his eyes, Bellamy hoped the image would dissolve as it did every time he startled awake. Sometimes it was the faces of those on the Ark that woke him. Or those in the Grounder village from his stint with Pike. Usually, he saw the faces of those they failed to protect in Mount Weather. But these few minutes always found their way into his sleep. The few minutes where he left her to die.

As the blast doors inched closed they framed the door that wouldn’t open.

“Please stop.” His whisper hoarse, “Please.” The vision shifted, as the Bellamy who made it to the Ring turned to face the rocket. To climb the ladder. His friends voices mixed in but he couldn’t make out the words. Not that he didn’t to, he knew what was side. He remembered the broken look in Harper’s eyes as she asked if Clarke wasn’t coming. The moment when he closed the hatch door. His own voice mixed in with the heart-wrenching symphony he was forced to relive; desperate for Clarke to stumble through the doors. May we meet again.

Suddenly, he was starting out into the darkened woods.

“Sanctum sucks.” Bellamy grumbled, turning into his side. Earth and Sanctum were both supposed to be better than the Ark. Even if their reasons for coming to earth in the first place didn’t seem better. They may have been sent down to die but their final journey to the ground, at least in his imagination, was supposed to be freeing. No more starving on half rations, no more adhering to laws favoring Alpha station, no more living in fear, and most of all no more hiding Octavia. Then Sanctum was supposed to be their second chance, their shot to do better. For Monty and for Harper. But then Russell had to go and attempt murder.

Real fucking tired.

A breeze racked through the trees, leaves whispering taunts at him. Every time he got a member of his family back another was torn from him. If the trees could do him a favor and root him that would be highly appreciated.

Off in the distance, someone spoke. What they said or who was saying could not be made out. Just quiet murmurs. Octavia? He propped himself up on his elbows, eyes darting between the trees trying to make out any movement. The homicidal trees stood dormant. There was no rushing of foliage, no footsteps, nothing to announce someone was coming towards him.

The voice became louder and louder but still warped as if forcing its way through a filter. As the voice babbled on, Bellamy shot up. “Clarke?”

She wasn’t out here. She stayed in Sanctum. She needed to be with Madi as she was mourned for the mother she had to float, not wandering aimlessly in these murder woods at night. He opened his mouth to tell her she should have stayed in Sanctum, when Clarke’s voice surrounded him, saying multiple things at once.

Bellamy, if you can hear me. What becomes of the Commander of Death when there’s no one left to kill? Tell Raven to aim for the one spot of green, and you’ll find me. They’re not very sweet, but they’re beautiful. I think that’s what they used to make the paint for.

He really hated Sanctum.

“Someone’s being dramatic.” Twisting his torso to gaze behind him, Bellamy Blake came face-to-face with one Clarke Griffin. The green air swirled densely around her. As she shifted to get comfortable on the large, unearthed root, the moonlight she basked in refracted.

“You’re not really here.” He inched himself around, to be able to look at the manifestation of Clarke easier. “You’re part of the anomaly.”

This fake version of Clarke had the same chopped blonde hair; all scrunched up and messy. She had shed the cloak worn by his Clarke to disguise herself as Josephine, leaving her arms bare in a blank tank top. Her eyes, those damned blue eyes. She simply shrugged, closing said damned blue eyes.

Silently, the pair sat engrossed in the cacophony of multiple Clarke’s talking over the other. “If you listened to each one in succession, you’d be here for too long.” The manifestation opened it’s eyes, gazing out towards where the two suns had set, “Too long Bellamy.”

Were these the calls she made while left on earth? He strained to make out anything specific but each call blended into the other, making each individual stream of consciousness indistinguishable. There were a few words here and there that rang out clear: Madi, bunker, rover, Bellamy. But in this chaos of past one-sided conversations was Clarke’s life for six years. Her story of survival. Even though he couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, he could feel it. The air shifted; became heavier, became chillier. It pressed down on his chest and bit at his skin. It tried to pull the oxygen from his lungs. Gasping, he tried to regain his breath but he couldn’t. His heart beat wildly in his chest. Was this how he’d go? After watching his mother float, after losing Clarke twice, after Octavia faded away in his arms - it was his turn. Almost immediately, the pressure in the air lightened. Enclosing him in its warmth. He felt - happy? No, that wasn’t the right word. Calm? Maybe. In a blink, an image of him desperately clinging to Clarke in Gabriel’s tent flashed behind his eyelids. He relived the relief that washed over him he never thought he’d experience at hearing someone cough. Knowing she was breathing.

Alive, he felt alive. The calls were Clarke knowing she’d persevere.

His name was repeated over and over, felt like near every call had his name in it at least once.  “You called me every day for six years,” he knew this wasn’t Clarke. He knew this wasn’t real but seeing her, being here in these woods he needed to say something, “and left me to die in the fighting pits.” Tears welled in the corners of Clarke’s damned eyes. She tried to stammer out an explanation for the pit but he cut her off. This wasn’t Clarke. It was a cruel joke played by whatever the hell the anomaly was. The manifestation looked so much like her and for the first time since Clarke’s heart restarted, he couldn’t look at her. He looked beyond into the tree line.“And I left you to die in a radiation storm.”

Josephine was right, it was exhausting. No matter what apologizes he gave he could never make up for that lost time.

Clarke’s answer doesn’t come from the manifestation but from the raucous calls echoing about the clearing. All but one muted to a low murmur. Please don’t feel bad about leaving me here. You did what you had to do. I’m proud of you. She may not have blamed him but he sure as hell did. He knew leaving was the reasonable option. If he waited any longer the seven of them would have died right there in the cockpit of the rocket. And unlike Clarke, the didn’t possess nightblood to help thwart off the radiation poisoning. The seven of them would have ended up like Shaw. Logically, it was the right decision. Didn’t make it hurt any less.

The carbon copy of Clarke climbed down from her perch on the root to sit beside him. She brushed the tips of her fingers along his forehead, gently pushing stray curls aside. He and Clarke were tactile people and while he knew the fingers that graced his skin weren’t actually hers, he needed the comfort of someone’s touch. “You’re a good man Bellamy Blake. Even if you don’t see it. You’ll find O.”

What if he didn’t? Diyoza’s daughter Hope stabbed Octavia in the abdomen before she dissolved into a could of green smoke. How was he supposed to save her?

“Next time one of us dies, it’s going to be me.” His dark eyes never leave her glassy blue ones. Watching as they crinkle in the corner as she smiles wryly. He sucks in a breath before continuing on. “I’ve lost you twice- I’ve mourned you twice. I can’t do that a third time.” He couldn’t lose her again. He refused to lose her in Gabriel’s tent. He meant it when he said he needed her. He lived six years on the Ring without her. He knew what is was like to live without Clarke and he never wanted to do that again.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” The manifestation said in jest, “We don’t have much of a say in the order we die.” She gave a him a small smile, brushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “Real positive, I know.”

He could feel something slowly inching across his ankle. Whatever it was scrapped its way over the skin, contrasting Clarke’s feather-light touch. Her eyes darted down quickly before she gripped onto his hand. Her touch was neither warm nor cold, but her presence filled the space between them.  "I called you for 2,199 days and each day I had to believe you were alive on the Ring.“ He really hated the anomaly. "You need to get up. Find Gabriel, find Echo, hell run to Sanctum. Please just get up Bellamy.” The manifestation dissipated into the air leaving Bellamy alone once more among the trees.

Or at least he thought he was alone. “Visions from the anomaly are fun, are they not?” Gabriel’s voice drawled out behind him. The fingers of other male’s left hand danced across the blade of the dagger Gabriel gripped in his right. “Who needs red sun toxin when you could see what you desire and what you fear most simultaneously.” As he walked around to face Bellamy, Gabriel dropped the dagger into the dirt beside Bellamy’s ankle. A root from one of the trees had made it’s home wrapped around the skin of Bellamy’s ankle. The dagger a silent warning to cut it now before more spread.

As Bellamy worked his way through the root, Gabriel rambled on, “For me, Josephine was both. The woman I loved for centuries and the woman who I should have stopped. Instead I ran, stayed out here while she grew callous. While she enacted oblation for null infants.” Gabriel stopped where he was, gazed out into the night before quickly averting his attention away. “Maybe I’m a masochist but I would come out here for decades just to see her. The anomaly creates another Josephine Ada Lightbourne. Thinks like her, acts like her, looks like her. In every way, except one, I was with Josephine again and for a brief moment the past two hundred some odd years didn’t exist.” Gabriel’s dark eyes met Bellamy’s, “We could just talk.”

The anomaly shows you what you desire and what you fear most. He saw Clarke. He only saw Clarke. He saw losing her the first time. He briefly saw himself after he did a piss poor job at CPR - beating their chest isn’t idle when resuscitating someone. He saw her. Standing to his feet slowly, Bellamy gave a small nod of acknowledgement to the other. Sanctum was too far to reach at this hour and she’d need time to heal but he needed to speak with Clarke. He wouldn’t spend his days speaking into the anomaly’s version of Clarke Griffin. They had a lot to discuss.

“Want to talk about whatever it was you saw? First brush with the anomaly can be altering and it’s a decent walk from here to the tent. When I left, Echo agreed to watch over the girl. We got time.”

This is probably the worst bingo submission you’ll see. I’ve never written for The 100 before. Sorry if this is really bad. Inspired by Gabriel stating that the anomaly shows you what you desire and what you fear most and me not getting to see what Bell saw in the anomaly. That and, “You called me every day for six years and you left me to die in the fighting pits.“ I took a lot of liberties since we know very little about the anomaly. Sorry that there’s no real discussion about the calls, it’s more Bellamy understanding Clarke while she made the radio calls. Hopefully that makes sense.