#blake friend fanfic

[callmewrinkles3]

Electric touch - BF x Fem!OC

Summary: All Blake wanted was to drag his best friends out for a night to have a couple of drinks and take their minds off the shitshow that was the last year. And then he met the love of his life. The continuation of this little drabble.

Warnings: Alcohol, talk of sexual situations, Dan and Em being disgustingly cute, a lot of swearing because that's Charlie.

Words: 7.2k

A/N: Hello kiddos! Its been a while, we know. We're gonna be back with more later, but meanwhile a little surprise. This is probably a one-time-only kind of thing inside this mess of a universe we created. But the important part its we're posting it but its totally dedicated to the sweet @a-distantdreamer. For reading every single thing we make and being the sweetest, AND because its her birthday. Have a happy happy one, darling Georgia.🫶🏻🥳

The warm December air didn’t help, but it wasn’t the reason Charlie felt like her skin was on fire. The summer sun may have set even though it was still warm, but each of her nerves was ablaze thanks to the cute, tall man standing right beside her. Blake was still blushing because of some signal that Daniel - holy shit it was Daniel Ricciardo - and Em made at him as he walked her out the front of the bar. Charlie couldn’t help but grin as she looked at him.

She knew it wasn’t normal to feel like that three hours after meeting him but she couldn’t help it. He was handsome and sweet, an absolute gentleman who was funny and smart, and the sound when he laughed was quite possibly her new favorite thing in the world.

He was adorable and all Charlie wanted to do was grab his cheeks and press kisses against his entire face. The few drinks she had weren’t enough to give her the courage to do it. She was on the sober side of tipsy, and she’d never forgive herself if she ruined things. Instead, she decided to stay on her side, waiting for Blake to give her a sign to act.

While waiting for her taxi, they stood there, Blake's hands in his pockets, while Charlie played with one ring on her finger, trying to ease the tension that was starting to build up between them.

“I have to say again, I’m so sorry about Em. I didn’t think she’d do that. Honestly, I don’t think she’s ever done something like that in her life.” Charlie smiled at his words, looking up at his glasses-covered eyes.

“It’s fine. Really, it is. I didn’t dare to come across to talk to you if she didn’t tell me to do it. I should thank her again. I should send her flowers or chocolates. Or both.”

“I… I mean I wasn’t gonna do it either. I saw you turn down the guy who walked over to talk to you, so I didn’t want to suffer the same fate if you were just here to relax”. This time it was Charlie’s turn to blush. She had no idea Blake had seen that. The main reason why she said no to the other guy - Hunter, with a shitty mullet and an even worse pickup line - was because she couldn’t stop stealing looks from Blake. She didn’t think he’d been doing the same to her.

“Oh, he was just some cunt. Not a good one either. And he wasn’t as cute as you.” That final drink she nearly didn’t have finally took effect at the wrong time.

“How long did the taxi driver say he’d be?”. They were on the outskirts of Perth, far enough out of the city that you had to ring individual drivers.

“Like fifteen minutes? I guess it’s a busy night. You can leave if you want. I’ll be fine.”

She was never one to lie. It was something she hated, but that night she did it without shame. The night was not a busy one, even though it was so close to Christmas, but Charlie needed an excuse to spend more time with Blake. Em and Daniel had been sweethearts and disappeared to give them alone time to chat and get to know each other. However, her coworkers were still there. Having her first kiss with Blake in front of the people she would see in less than nine hours was something she did not want to do, so she ordered her taxi to arrive twenty minutes later. If the lie was taking her to hell at least it would've been worth it if she got to kiss the cutest man she ever met.

“What? I won't leave you waiting here alone. I'm not hurrying. I was just curious.”

"If you say so," she smiled, feeling both embarrassed and excited at the same time. "Okay, this is quite awkward because I was planning on saying that I had a really good idea on how we could entertain ourselves for the next fifteen minutes, and then I was planning to try to be all smooth and clever and kiss you at the end. But I think it wouldn't work because you're too tall and the romcom-style moment has been ruined because of my poor shoe choice this morning. And that last drink was not necessary.”

Charlie knew she wasn't drunk. She was far from drunk, but she shouldn't have accepted that last beer. Or maybe it had been an excellent idea because, despite the embarrassment, it had given her enough courage to say something. She wouldn’t have done it otherwise. She wasn’t some shy and retiring woman but Blake made her nervous. His cute smirk from across the bar and Em’s “he thinks you’re cute” made her afraid of ruining whatever that could be.

Everything turned into nerves when Blake moved and stood right in front of her. Suddenly the world moved in slow motion and went silent. No cars drove past in the street, no people walking by or music coming out of the bar. The only thing that existed was Blake looking down at her smiling as he took his hands out of his pocket.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Going out that night with her coworkers after an exhausting day at work, rejecting the other guy, and accepting Emma’s drink and offer. Everything, even the outfit she wore, made sense somehow. She shouldn’t have been in that bar. Her coworkers considered going to another place, but the one they chose was closer to their workplace, so it was faster and easier. It was all destiny.

What was most ridiculous was the fact that Charlie wasn't looking for anything or anyone at all. She was fine on her own. After her last relationship and the way she ended it, she decided it was okay to be alone. Sometimes she missed having someone to share things with and hug her, but she was okay. She kept telling herself she was fine until she saw Blake coming in. It was a cliché, but she stopped listening to what her manager said the second he walked in. Blake’s smile was the only thing she could think about. But then she saw Daniel Fucking Ricciardo walking behind him. Charlie suddenly felt her chances falling to zero so fast it was heartbreaking. She looked away so fast it was ridiculous.

Even with that, Charlie couldn't stop herself and looked his way every few minutes. She tried, heaven knows she tried, but it was impossible. He was too handsome. His smile was just as beautiful as the rest of his face, and his glasses made him even cuter. The moment she realized her hope was gone, she drowned her sorrow in yet another drink. That's why she thought it was a joke when Emma presented herself and brought her a drink. It had to be a joke. It felt like a joke. Something like that couldn't happen to someone like her.

It was a miracle, but it happened. It all led to that moment. It all led to Blake holding her cheek and waist. Every single thing she did that day took her to Blake looking down at her eyes looking for permission so they could finally kiss. Charlie had no idea if magic existed, but she could swear that's exactly what she felt as their lips touched. At thirty-four years old and after too many heartbreaks and bad experiences, Charlie didn't believe in butterflies anymore. She understood perfectly well the reason why a person felt butterflies inside their stomach. She knew it was dopamine in the body. She also knew it was norepinephrine in the central nervous system and hormonal changes. Her PhD in Psychology said she had memorized it all by heart, but that night she couldn't care less. That night, as she kissed Blake, Charlie swore the butterflies were as real as she was.

If someone had told her that same morning that she was going to end the night in the arms of a cute man with glasses while kissing on a sidewalk, she would have laughed because it was ridiculous and impossible. That's not how her night was supposed to be, but it was perfect. Her hands were placed on his chest and around his waist. As he touched her cheek, his arm wrapped around her body and held her close. Charlie wanted to stay in his arms forever. Their lips were locked, their noses touched, and their heartbeats rushed together. It felt like a dream, that's why she was going to do everything in her power to feel his smile against her lips forever.

He tasted like beer for the last ones they had. The two of them smelled like alcohol, but Blake also smelled like the finest perfume that a person could find anywhere in the world. There was also a softness to him. Everything about him was soft, from his kisses to the way he stroked her skin with his finger. Suddenly, there was something there telling Charlie that he also wasn't trying to ruin the moment, which made Charlie smile right there against his lips right as the first kiss ended and the second kiss started. She wanted to do that for the rest of the night. She wanted that for the rest of the year. She wanted to kiss his lips until she knew every part of his face thanks to the closeness of their bodies. She wanted to kiss him until their lips forgot what it was like to have anyone else touching them. She wanted this to be more than just a kiss.

She wanted this to be more than just a kiss and for one night.  

"Is that what you had in mind for your rom-com moment?" Blake asked, still smiling down at her. She smiled back, her heart skipping a beat. Blake leaned down and kissed her again before she answered.

“Yup, exactly that one."

“You’re a smart woman, Charlotte."

Her shoulders shrunk as she joked, "I have a PhD, so I kind of know what you mean." This time Charlie was able to gather the courage to get on her tiptoes, hold his neck, and steal another kiss, which was a statement of how much she enjoyed it. “I don't usually do this, but I am just going to go for it and ask you 'cause you don't look like a psycho or a serial killer. Plus, you're a very good kisser, so do you want to ride in the taxi with me and come to my place with me?" Once the words were out of her mouth, Charlie wondered where that came from. She was never one to ask a guy to take her home with her but those brown eyes behind his glasses were messing up with her.

“Didn’t you say you have work tomorrow and that’s why you were leaving?" Shit. He was totally right.

“Maybe? Ugh. Being an adult sucks. But I can call in sick?” There was a terrible internal struggle inside her. Head versus heart. Responsibility against everything Blake made her feel and all the things her body yelled at her. The rational part of her brain told her to do the right thing and act like an adult. Meanwhile, her heart told her to go with it and enjoy a night of fun. It should be a no-brainer, but her head was empty as Blake kissed her head.

“Maybe? Ugh. Being an adult sucks. But I can call in sick?” There was a terrible internal struggle inside her. Head versus heart. Responsibility against everything Blake made her feel and all the things her body yelled at her. The rational part of her brain told her to do the right thing and act like an adult. Meanwhile, her heart told her to go with it and enjoy a night of fun. It should be a no-brainer, but her head was empty as Blake kissed her head.

“You’re not calling in sick, Charlie” Blake replied, reaching for her hand over his chest to tangle their fingers.

“Why not? ‘Hey, sorry I can’t go today, my legs turned into jello. It's because of a cute guy from Sydney’. See? Easy”

“Charlie…”

"C'mon, don't ruin the fun. I mean, unless you don't want to do it. That's fine too, in that case, but I thought-". The feeling was like a bucket of cold water falling over her head. As soon as she realized that Blake was saying no to her, it was like receiving a kick in the stomach. He was respectful and sweet, but it was a no. She was told no softly, but when she heard it, she wanted to hide under the covers of her bed, hoping that the time would go back so she could fix it.

Charlie knew it was impossible to do something like that, so she just let her hand fall from his waist, shyly stepping back and away. It was just one little step and they were still against each other and holding hands, but it felt like an ocean got between them. Despite her knowing that it was all psychological, Charlie felt as if she was the smallest woman ever and she hated that feeling.

When she moved away from him, Blake stepped forward, closing the distance between them as soon as she moved away. It was the kiss Blake gave her in her hand that kept her calm. She didn't know how he knew, but it was enough to keep her grounded and stop her from spiraling. "Hey, no, Charlie listen, there’s nothing I want more than to go home with you right now, but just- Let me do things right, baby. I really wanna do this properly.”

“You just called me baby and I’m not supposed to beg you? And what do you mean by proper?”

It was probably the puzzled expression on her face that made Blake smile, but that was enough to make her relax again as he explained himself. “Let me take you out for dinner tomorrow. We do a real date like normal people do. I pick you up, open the door for you, all that."

Charlie felt small at first, but as soon as she heard his reasons she felt ridiculous. She wanted to slap herself because she was just making assumption after assumption. Blake wanted to do things right and take it slow while she just wanted to rip his clothes off. She was a complete mess and really shouldn't have drunk that last beer, but it was too late for regrets.

“Looks like I found the last decent man on earth. Are you real or an alien, Mr. Friend?” Charlie joked, finally relaxing again enough to touch his cheek as she asked that ridiculous question, making Blake smile.

“Is that a yes to my invitation?” he wondered as he turned his head enough to kiss the palm of her hand.

“I don’t know. Are you skipping my question because you’re an alien?”

“Are you skipping mine because you’re an alien?”

“Fair enough. I go out with you if you promised to be human”

“I promise I’m human” Blake insisted, and the smile on his face and the kiss he gave her earlier was more than enough to convince her of anything at all. “Tomorrow night then?“

Charlie didn’t answer with words. She just nodded, going back for another kiss. She couldn’t even think about moving away, especially not when his thumb found its way under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine as he stroked her waist. As revenge for what his fingers were doing under her shirt, Charlie made it easy and simple and decided to run the tip of her tongue over his lower lip.

At that point, she knew it wasn’t gonna change his mind, but at least she was happy to get one deep breath and a groan from him. “Are you sure you don't want to leave your decency behind? I won’t get offended. I’m leaving mine by asking you twice. I never do that, so it's a big deal. I mean, this is the nicest way I’ve ever been turned down but maybe I can convince you.”

“I’m not turning you down, I’m just inventing an excuse to see you again. And if tomorrow goes half as well as tonight, then you're not heading home alone.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mr. Alien Friend”

“It’s not a threat, ma’am, it's a promise. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up.”

“Fine. If I tell you to pick me up at 7 can I kiss you till 8 and then we do dinner?” Charlie asked, half joking and half serious, feeling more and more comfortable every second she spent in his arms. That’s why she decided to get even closer, hugging his neck and running her fingers through his short hair. She kept giving him short, soft, loving kisses. It wasn’t about convincing him anymore, it was simply she was addicted to it. 

“You’re making it hard for me on purpose, don’t you?” Blake asked, placing their foreheads together. Charlie could see all over his face how he was trying to keep his composure. She couldn’t blame him for failing as badly as she did. 

“That is the best and most awful innuendo ever.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!"

“I know. But still, it was fun." It wasn’t a great joke, it was just a silly funny comment, but both of them laughed at it. Charlie had no idea last time she had that much fun with someone, especially not with a man. It was easy to be with him, just like it was easy to smile at his contagious laugh. “Shit, I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“I don’t either. But less than twenty-four hours and I’ll be at your door.”

“That’s a lot of hours, Blake."

“You’re gonna be sleeping and working most of them, so it won’t be that terrible. Any food you don’t eat?”

“I’m okay with anything. But I also really like tall cute guys for dessert, especially if they have glasses." Charlie joked, tapping carefully the bridge of his glasses. And there was again, the cute, shy smile that made her lose notions of the time and date. She was very close to forgetting her own name and didn't care.

“I think I know someone like that” Blake whispered, trying to act as mysteriously as possible. 

“Wait, is it human or alien?”

“A werewolf”

“Dirty. I mean I don’t mind scratches or bites so it's alright. Shit, that was a lot”. Charlie couldn’t help but giggle at her own stupidity. She was so ridiculously into Blake that she lost track of what she was saying. All that added to the alcohol in her body and how good Blake smelled made her head turn. She was so damn embarrassed that all she could do was rest her forehead against his chest for a moment. She returned to reality when Blake laughed and kissed her head. 

“It's not a lot, I’m just taking it as a promise for tomorrow. We settle for tomorrow at 8 then?”

“I thought we said 7?”

“If we spend an hour kissing we won’t make it to dinner, Charlie”

“7:30 is my last offer or I’ll go out with that werewolf friend of yours, babe”. That was the first time she was calling him babe and it felt just as right as when Blake used that nickname for her. It just felt normal to say it. It felt even better to look up again and see the look in his eyes and how his whole face lightened up when he heard it.

“7.45. Thirty minutes with you and we’ll skip dinner. Fifteen is cutting it close.”

“Fiiine. I’ll put on a dress and heels so we don’t break our necks when we kiss. And to play footsie under the table. Just please don’t let me be overdressed.”

“I won’t. And I can't imagine you looking bad.”

“You haven’t seen me at 6 am without coffee or makeup. That's the most horrible Charlie of them all."

“If we’re awake after 6 tomorrow I’ll tell you how beautiful you look."

“You’re a charmer, aren't you?”

“I’m gonna ruin the charm by saying I think your taxi’s coming”

She couldn't believe her fifteen minutes were over. It felt like a lifetime had passed, but at the same time, she didn’t have plenty of time. She didn’t hug him enough. She didn’t steal enough kisses. She wanted to stay in his arms and make him blush for her silly comments. She got fifteen minutes but wanted fifteen hours. Damn, she wished for fifteen lifetimes. 

“Nah, tell it to go away” she complained, hiding her face again in his chest as Blake squeezed her waist tighter. “I said fifteen minutes, not fifteen seconds.”

“We’ll get more than fifteen minutes tomorrow” Blake promised, kissing her head again, which was enough to leave her favorite new place to hide. “Text me when you get home safe, alright?" 

Charlie hated the second his hands let go of her waist. She hated not feeling his fingers carefully stroking her waist, slow enough to not pass a limit in something so new and fragile. She hated moving her hands away from his neck and how her body wasn’t against his anymore. But as she lost all that, she saw his hand grasping hers, looking at their fingers together. Charlie might hate losing all that, but she loved the new feeling of their hands fitting perfectly together. 

“You want a pic of me in my PJs with it?” 

“You’re gonna kill me. Text me, yeah?" And that was their goodnight kiss, just as a heartwarming as all the other ones, but that one felt like a promise. That one was the simple promise of more coming tomorrow, which made Charlie smile wider against his lips.

“I will. See you tomorrow. Have a good night. Even if it's without me” she joked, hearing the goddamn taxi finally park right beside them. 

“You too. See you tomorrow."

****

The smile on his face was impossible to hide. He knew that. He was well aware of it. He didn’t want to hide it at all. He was even sure his face would hurt after smiling so much, but he couldn’t care less, not when that just happened. That silly happy smile would stay on his face forever and he wasn’t willing to fight it, not when Charlie put it there. If he had it his way, he would keep it there forever, just like he wanted to keep Charlie forever. 

He couldn’t believe what had happened not even five minutes earlier. It felt like some kind of romantic book Em read on planes and long car rides. It was one of those meet cute things his best friend used to talk about and Blake was convinced it could only occur in silly Hallmark movies and books. But then it happened to him. From all the people in the world, the universe chose him to have the meet-cute moment. The gorgeous brunette by the bar decided to speak with him among all the guys at the bar. Then she decided that she wanted to kiss him. Him. And if that wasn’t enough, she agreed to have dinner the next day, which was almost impossible to believe. It was so illogical that Blake couldn’t stop staring at the street until the taxi that took her disappeared from his view. It took him another couple of minutes to stop it and go inside and back to his friends. 

“I was gonna ask how it was but you've a pinkish gloss on your lips” Emma smiled, pointing to her lips as she looked up at Blake. 

Blake had no idea which color it was, but from that night it was his favorite one. All he knew was that it tasted like cherries, which paired perfectly with the fruity drink Charlie drank earlier. But nobody needed to know, at least not yet. He thought for a second about denying it, saying he didn’t have anything on his lips, but there was no point. It was ridiculous to do it when the smile was still there, making it impossible to hide. 

“So you closed the deal?" It was Dan who finally asked the important question while Em offered a napkin. Blake grabbed it but left it on the table as he sat down, not wanting to erase Charlie’s memory from his lips. 

It was strange, but Blake somehow understood why his two best friends kept secrets about everything in their relationship for so long. A couple of kisses with Charlie and he was determined to keep it secret forever. He didn’t want to say anything about the butterflies and the nerves in his stomach, about the way he felt alive again, or the way he wanted to cry with happiness when he finally kissed her. He wanted to keep that night for himself forever. 

“We’re having dinner tomorrow night," he confessed, blushing like a nervous kid.

“Let's go!” Em exclaimed, giving Blake a high-five to celebrate the good news. After his wife, Dan did the same thing. “That's my boy!”

“Alright can we go home now? I gotta see where I’m taking her tomorrow and I really wanna freak out in private”. It took his friends only two seconds to grab their things and get up, all while Dan started to throw options about nice restaurants he could take Charlie to, and Em told him options about what he could wear. Blake smiled even more, but this time because he was thankful for his messy favorite couple.

****

Six years of knowing Blake, and Emma could swear she had never seen him that nervous. She had seen her best friend under insane pressure and terrible stress, but never as that night, especially not for a woman.

He was a mix of a nervous breakdown and a giddy mess as soon as he woke up. There was an unusual smile that Em called “The Charlie Effect” because it only appeared when she texted him. Every hour or two his phone would buzz and there it was, Blake looking at his phone like a lovesick puppy, smile blasted on his face in such a way it was contagious. But as Charlie was back in a meeting or a session, he would turn into a nervous break again. 

Blake looked terrified as he wore and changed another shirt. The previous ones were not good enough. One was too formal, the next one wasn’t casual enough, and the next one was too casual. He wanted to look perfect, and suddenly all his clothes and even the shirts he bought that morning weren’t nice. Not all the shirts in the world were good. He was so nervous he was doubting about every single choice he made in his life, but especially about his clothes and the restaurant he had chosen for that night. Dan recommended something quite private, small, and not as fancy as the Michelin stars restaurants they had been eating in luxury hotels. It was obvious from kilometers away that Charlie wasn’t that kind of woman. The last thing Blake wanted to do was chase her away by picking the wrong restaurant or doing the wrong thing. His final decision about the restaurant was made when Em said she liked the one Dan suggested, and if ‘I don’t like fancy stuff’ Em thought it was okay, then it was good enough. 

After that, Em solved the issue with his clothes. Like a mum helping her kid pick up the right clothes for prom, Em helped her best friend, telling him to go for a blue shirt and some black pants. It was chill and classic and he looked great in blue. But even after that, he took another twenty minutes to get ready, which for Blake was an eternity. Whatever he was doing in the bathroom and the bedroom was worth it because when he came out he looked flawless.

“Timmy, tell me the truth. How do I look?” Blake asked, standing right in front of Em who was sitting on the couch, book in her hand as she waited for Dan to return from taking a call with one of his mates. Not that Em couldn’t listen, but Dan just didn’t want to bother as she read one of the critical chapters. 

“You’re the most handsome man in the world after my husband. You really look great, Blakey. If you change again I swear I’m gonna hit you” Em joked, saying the last word with a straight face before she smiled at her friend once again. “I know you’re nervous but stop it. You look breathtaking.”

“Don’t lie to me”

“I’m not lying! C’mere. C’mon! Come sit with Aunt Emmy." It was a couple of pats on the couch and then Blake did as he was told. He sat right beside Em and she hugged his arm as she looked up at him. “Drop it. Whatever it's in your head just say it cause it won’t help if it’s eating you”

It took Blake a few seconds to say it. He took a deep breath before letting the words leave his mouth even if it hurt. “What if it goes wrong? Or if she doesn’t like me at the end?”

“B, darling, you know she likes you. I mean, you already kissed."

“I know. And I like her, Tim. But what if? Like- Ughh she’s so damn beautiful and smart and funny! How does she like me? What if she was drunker than she thought and now she doesn’t know how to say no to hanging out? Or if it's not the same as last night?”

Em understood perfectly where all those fears came from. Nobody could blame him, especially not Em. She's been through that in her relationship with Dan for years. She still found it difficult to understand how her husband loved her. But on the other hand, she couldn't understand how someone wouldn't want to have a date with Blake. No when he was the greatest friend and one of the best men of all time.

“You’re handsome, smart and funny. I know you’re nervous but it's gonna be alright.”

Before Em could finish showering her brother with compliments to boost his confidence, they heard a loud whistle coming from the other side of the room. Em couldn’t help but smile when she saw Dan standing there, looking straight at them. 

“Ohhh he looks handsome!”

“See? Told you! You look great!” Em smiled, looking between both men, searching for help from Daniel.

“You ready to charm Miss Charlotte?” Dan asked, sitting on Blake’s free side. There was no way he could escape between them and that's what they needed.

“Shut up, cunt.”

“I think she’s already charmed” Em singsonged, kissing Blake’s cheek before he ran from the couch, leaving Em the space to snuggle with her man.

“I think I should go. Don’t wait up. Y’know what? Just don’t wait at all.”

“Do you have condoms or do you want some?” Dan joked, making Blake freeze in his spot and Em laugh maybe too loud for their own good. Coming from them it was probably the most ridiculous joke they could ever say, so the three of them laughed and smiled unnecessarily loudly.

“You telling me there’s condoms in this house? That you have condoms? When was the last time you touched one of those?”

Em and Dan took a moment to do basic math. The first time they slept together was in 2018, Em knew she hadn’t slept with anyone since 2017, but she never asked Dan if he did after they met. He always said he couldn’t stop thinking about her from the second they met. However, she couldn’t blame him if he had been with someone before them. It would be weird if he didn’t. Em was fine with not knowing names or seeing pictures.

“2017?” Dan asked, kissing Em’s forehead before she nodded in agreement. Something as simple as a kiss and a number cleared one of her doubts in a second. “And nah we don’t have”.

“That’s what I thought. Okay, I’m out." He kissed Em’s forever and ruffled Dan’s curls before grabbing the keys of the car he rented -because yes, Blake insisted he wasn’t planning to pick Charlie up in Dan’s pickup truck- and checked again his phone was in his pocket. Em couldn’t help but smile as she looked up at Blake, hoping he would finally get some happiness he deserved. As Blake was almost at the door, she noticed his green backpack sitting on the other couch next to her.

“Hey, your backpack!”

“Why would I need my backpack?” Blake asked with the most confused look on his face. He has his keys, phone, and wallet. Em figured the smart man had condoms somewhere in one of his pockets, so he was oblivious to why Em mentioned his backpack.

“I put clean clothes for you there, dummy. I know you won’t be back for the whole weekend so I figured you would need it. At least to come back dressed." Em made it sound like the easiest explanation in the world, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal. For her, it wasn't. All she did was grab a nice pair of shorts, a T-shirt, socks, and the newest underwear she knew Blake had. Eighty percent of the time Em was in charge of their laundry, so she knew which clothes were older, even in Blake's suitcase. She might have also thrown there a spare deodorant, a toothbrush, and a box of condoms, but she wasn't gonna say a thing about it. She wanted to keep the secret and wait for Blake to find out.

Em thought Blake was gonna say she was insane for doing such a thing. After all, she wasn't his mum and he was a grown-up adult who could take care of himself. She just wanted to look after her best friend and give back some of the love, care, and affection he constantly gave them. Blake knew that was Em's way of showing her love, so he walked back, grabbed the backpack, and pointed straight at her. “I love you."

“I love you too. Go be happy!" Em exclaimed, a smile on her face as she saw Blake leaving the house and Dan yelled to him, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!".

****

He shouldn’t be that nervous. He couldn’t be that nervous. Charlie was just a girl. He hung out with girls before. He did it a hundred times. It wasn’t his first date or anything. At that point in his life, it felt like his first date was centuries ago, but somehow that night was like it again. He had the same excitement and nerves he had when he was a kid in Sydney. The only difference was that this felt final. He has dated girls before, but never experienced anything like that. None of them felt like Charlie. None of them made him forget his name instantly like she did. None of them felt like home, which was insane but true. Kissing Charlie made him feel like coming home after too much time away. It was like heaven even when he knew she could take him down to hell in a second. Being honest with himself, he couldn’t care less. He would gladly go to hell if it meant kissing her again.

He wanted nothing more than kissing her again. He wanted to taste her cherry chapstick again. He wanted her hands against his skin and her body near his. He wanted to feel her smiling and be the one begging for her to take him home. Because he regretted not going home with her. He couldn't stop thinking about it the whole night. He couldn't erase from his mind her beautiful face begging him to leave with her. He couldn't stop thinking about how he should have said yes to that and to every thing Charlie asked of him. He should have gone home with her, but instead, he listened to his decency. All he had in return was a night of terrible sleep while he missed her.

As he drove around Perth's familiar streets, Blake kept thinking about what Em said to him. It was gonna be fine. Nothing pointed in the opposite direction. There was no reason for their date to go wrong. There was no reason, but anything could happen and he didn’t want to think about it. He just couldn’t, that’s why as he drove, he decided to call the only person who could calm him again.

“You got lost or you already miss me?” 

“Tell me again it's gonna be fine?”

“Oh Blakey. Umm- Oh, I know. Hey, remember when we were sitting in the airport flying to Nice? I didn’t want to go and you promised me that no matter what happened it’d be terrible not to go because I’d never know what happened."

"Of course I remember." Some things weren’t easy to forget in life. Em holding his hand for dear life was one of those. How hard she tried to keep tears from falling was another on the list. But nothing was as terrible as seeing her eyes. She seemed lost. She looked like something had broken inside her. It was nothing but the shadow of the woman she was, but Blake needed to take her to Monaco. Maybe it was the most disastrous decision of his life, but he needed to take her there to face her biggest fear. Blake had no idea how it worked. While it felt like a miracle at the time, he came to understand her point months later.

"That’s you right now. This will work out, B. I promise. You just need to enjoy yourself and text me in the morning so I know you’re alive.”

“You know I fucking love you, right?”

“I know. You told me five minutes ago. But I love you more. Now take a deep breath, okay? Just like you made me do it that day. Do that and remember it was alright for me, so it's gonna be more than okay for you."

“Thanks, Emmy.”

“You know you’re the only person except Dan, his parents, and the kids who can call me that?”

“I know. Means a lot.”

“I know, silly. Now go get your girl.”

“She’s not-“.

“Shush. You closed the deal last night. Go get her, make her officially your girl. I’m fucking exhausted of all the testosterone, I need another girl on my side.” 

“She told me she loves Taylor...”

“Blake Francis Friend, if you lose her I will destroy you”.

“If I lose her I will let you destroy me. I feel like the two of you will terrorize me and Dan.”

“What a shame, not like the three of you have done that to me for years!”

“I’ll apologize to you again when I see you. I think I’m outside her apartment so I better leave you. Love you, Timmy.”

“Love you more, Blakey. Have fun!” 

****

The second Blake told Charlie about dinner, she knew what she was going to wear. She knew the little black dress she bought months ago without reason suddenly had a reason to hang in her closet. The black, short, very sexy halter dress was gonna be her ally that night. It was classy, not showing anything but putting her legs out there so his imagination could do the rest. If she was lucky she was gonna convince Blake to just have her as entrance and dessert, and then they could order something on her list of favorite places near home. The problem was what to wear under her dress. She was divided into two bralette bras, a regular black one that was serious but sexy, or a lace lavender one that was cute as it could get. Charlie wasn’t one to compliment herself, but both of them looked gorgeous on her, doing wonders for her boobs.

She needed that night to work. She knew she shouldn’t put all her expectations on a man she met in a bar the night before. She was a grown-up woman who knew better, but damn, she needed it to work. She needed it because something inside her yelled Blake was the right one. She always trusted her gut and she had a really good feeling about it. She wanted that and Blake almost as much as she wanted to call her sister-in-law for a brief pep talk saying it was gonna be fine. Two minutes on the phone with Katie and she could convince her that it was going to be fine. But Charlie didn’t want to make the call. For some reason, she wanted Blake for herself. She didn’t want anybody giving their opinion on the matter. She didn’t want anyone to say it was good or wrong. She just wanted to kiss him again in peace, understand he was real, and then go from it.

“Just chill the fuck out, kid. It’s gonna be fine” she told herself as she looked in the mirror while doing her makeup. She didn’t want to put too many products on her face, trying to make it appear natural. If her wishes came true in a few hours, she would be on her knees for him, so she didn’t want to look like a complete disaster with her makeup all over the place.

Her makeup wasn’t such a big issue. She did it fast and it looked good and simple, but her hair was another story. So used to have half her hair tied up and half down or in a ponytail for work, she didn’t want to do that for her date. She wanted something simple and cute to go with her dress, but her hair refused to behave. And updo looked weird. The ponytail didn’t look nice, and she couldn’t find any cute accessories to keep it up, so she decided to let it fall on her back. As she brushed her hair hoping not even one lock would be out of place, Charlie couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was. Not only did she know Blake wasn’t going to care about how her hair looked like, but she also hoped he would make a complete mess out of it.

After the realization hit her she decided to sit down and wait for his text saying he was outside waiting for her. She spent a good part of the last three hours pacing the floor of her apartment. When she wasn’t showering or getting ready she was just walking from one point to another, praying to whatever was out there to not let her ruin it. But then she was tired of walking, so she sat down, double-checking everything in her purse before heading out.

But then at exactly 7:40 and five minutes earlier than they said, her phone finally buzzed, making her jump out of her seat with a smile on her face as she read a tiny “Outside!” that just made her run.

[starboardharpy]

This is basically what happened, right??

Psst, hey! @bilan-igg , it's the Gay Doritos :>

[artsykidwolf-2000]

Anyone wanna be RWBY friends? I've been getting back into it recently bc I love the concept n stuff. I have OCs too.

My fave characters are Ironwood, Clover, Qrow, Tyrian, Watts, Winter, Penny, Yang, Weiss, Nora and Glynda.

[koolaidoverliving]

i wrote a drabble a few weeks back — for the slender-mansion AU. i didn't intend on sharing it, but my friend suggested i should. and so i give you all a short puppetdoll ficlet (honestly i've never seen anything with these two... hope i'm not the first!)

COMFORT

✦ The Puppeteer & The Dollmaker ✦

CW: Panic Attacks, This Is Not a Ship Fic, Everything's Platonic

Words: 740

Away from a winter dinner at the mansion, The Puppeteer helps The Dollmaker through a panic attack.

The Puppeteer never knew of how anxious The Dollmaker could get. He was always aware of The Dollmaker's harrowing past — the past he never asked about.

The night he saw The Dollmaker cowering in the bathroom was the night he could have asked.

But he didn't.

The Puppeteer, at first, placed a hand on the Dollmaker's shoulder, but The Dollmaker pushed him away.

"Don't touch me!" The Dollmaker yelled, stumbling back.

The Puppeteer blinked, a bit startled, but he quickly understood. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't —"

"Shut up! Why are you apologising? I don't need your apology! It's not your fault!" The Dollmaker's words stung like a wasp. His breaths came out short and quick. He might have fainted if he yelled even a second more.

"..." The Puppeteer didn't apologise again.

The Puppeteer kept his distance from The Dollmaker, allowing him the space to calm himself down.

Yet he still asked, in the gentlest way he could, "Would you like me to stay here?"

The Dollmaker, though shaking and scared, answered with a small nod.

So The Puppeteer stayed. He stayed for as long as he had to. Standing in front of the door, he made sure no one could enter.

No one did enter. Because most people wouldn't care enough to chase after people who leave parties early. But The Puppeteer saw The Dollmaker leaving from the corner of his eye. And he handed his glass to Helen. And he ran. Almost tripping over the rusty floorboards, but that didn't matter.

The Puppeteer kept silent the entire time, even making sure his breathing was quiet so he didn't interrupt The Dollmaker's train of thought. At some point, the sink began to run, and The Dollmaker washed his stained face.

As he turned off the water, The Dollmaker finally spoke up. "...Sorry," he mumbled. "They handed me the sparkler. I didn't know what to do with it."

The Puppeteer didn't talk yet.

"It's not fun being an adult scared of fire." The Dollmaker looked up at his reflection, his face fully visible with his hair wet and pushed back. The Puppeteer saw a glimpse of The Dollmaker's past for a second; he saw the child lost in an adult's body, littered with scars. "Everyone else didn't care. I just embarrassed myself."

"You're not embarrassing, Mr. Dollmaker," The Puppeteer said. "I think it's stranger to not have fears." He walked up to the sink.

The Dollmaker didn't take his eyes off the mirror. "What are you scared of, Puppeteer?"

The Puppeteer hummed. "Salt, for one," he joked. "I'm sure I was scared of something in the past. Abandonment, most likely."

"You don't remember your past?"

"I don't."

"You're lucky."

"I wouldn't say so."

The Dollmaker turned to The Puppeteer. "I would do anything to forget mine." His voice sounded lifeless.

"Most would, I've noticed." The Puppeteer looked at him, too. "But the past is what shapes you into who you are — I would do anything to remember mine."

"...Then we're different in that department, Puppeteer. I don't... even know who I've been shaped into."

"A brilliant Dollmaker."

The Dollmaker shrugged a shoulder at that. "Not as brilliant as my father."

"You don't have to be as brilliant as him; you're as brilliant as yourself. The things you create are incredible, Mr. Dollmaker. Be proud."

"Hhh... I suppose, yes. I'm proud of them, of course."

"Anyone would be."

The Dollmaker only shrugged again. "...Do you want to go on a walk?" he asked.

"In the snow?"

"I don't mind. I need to get some air."

"Haha, okay." The Puppeteer nodded. "I do enjoy night walks."

"As do I." The Dollmaker headed to the door. "I'll meet you at the back entrance, Puppeteer. I'm going to get a coat and... not wear a suit."

The Puppeteer also left the bathroom. "Yes, I'll be downstairs, Mr. Dollmaker. Stay safe."

"Thank you for staying... — Oh, but one more thing," The Dollmaker turned around before walking away, "please, just call me Vine."

Vine.

The Puppeteer smiled.

Their small friendship grew twice that night, and they finally trusted each other as friends and not co-workers.

Vine. A good friend. The Puppeteer is forever curious about what lurks beneath Vine's surface, but he doesn't dare ask about his past. The Puppeteer comforts him with presence, with reassurance, but never questions or unsolicited advice. Because Vine doesn't need those to heal.

And The Puppeteer understands that more than anyone.

[behindabook2807]

Wanna see how Blake will react to Neon flirting with Yang over texts? Click the link to read chapter 18! 🐈‍⬛🌈🐉

[justinewt]

The End of the World - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Thirty-Five

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (09/27/2024)

Summary: Everyone would share the bunker - 100 of each clan - and that rule applied to the Sky people as well. While Kane tried to ensure Octavia's condition was being respected, his daughter, Michelle, Clarke and Bellamy left the bunker to go get Raven before the death wave hit but with a 24-hour window and 10-hour long trips, there wouldn't be much room for error.

Words: 7k

Warnings: The 100 season 4 spoilers (episode 12 "The Chosen" & episode 13 "Praimfaya"), angst

It was chaos in the bunker. The Grounders had forced all the members of Skaikru into the rotunda. People were so crowded in the center that they were stepping on each other. They walked out of the office, Kane brought up the rear, and they faced the crowd. No one really knew what was going on and were quite confused and disoriented. People were repeatedly asking the chancellor, standing above them, what was happening. Announcing that 300 of them would be kicked out of the bunker and left to die in the upcoming death wave, which would arrive in just a little over a dozen hours. The situation was critical now. Grounders went to close the door to the dorms after having brought everyone in the room and loud shouting ensued. They pounded on the door and walls.

Jaha turned his head towards Bellamy, whispering, “Three out of four of these people are going to die tonight. You still think you made the right choice?”

Bellamy ignored him but gulped, staring ahead of him. He wasn’t even making eye contact with any of them lined up there. This wasn’t easy for any of them and hearing him trying to blame and guilt-trip Bellamy made Michelle clench her jaw, looking at Jaha from the corner of her eyes. They still had some time before having to read out the names on the list. They went back into the office and Abby sat at the radio to establish contact with Raven. She was yet to arrive to the bunker, still on that island they had gone off to the previous week. They wanted her to be part of the 100 to survive in the bunker, not just for them but because she’s a mechanic and one of the smartest engineers they had. They needed her for the thousand people in there with them. Eventually, Michelle, Bellamy and Clarke entered the room, along with Jaha, who received an umpteenth sidelong glance from Michelle the moment he spoke up, though quite quietly. She then glanced at her father, leaning against a shelf.

“Our people are scared, Marcus. We need to tell them something.”

“We just spoke with Raven. When she gets here, we’ll have all our essential personnel.”

“How many spots does that leave us with?” Clarke asked worriedly. Her mother stood up from her chair.

“Including the essential personnel, and the places that we’re holding for the children under 16, that leaves us with 80.”

“80.” She repeated gravely, glancing down. There was a heavy silence that befell the room before Jaha inevitably found something else to say. Michelle briefly closed her eyes, rolling them under her eyelids and crossed her arms over her chest. He wasn’t helping.

“I can’t believe about sending 364 of our own people to their deaths.”

“We’re lucky they’re giving us any space in this bunker at all.” Clarke looked at him, raising her eyebrows. Kane straightened up.

“Look. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“Then let’s fight this.” Michelle couldn’t help it and sighed through her nose. She was glad her father went against him.

“No. Any sort of resistance will cost us all our lives. Our best course of action is to hold a lottery for the remaining spots.” Jaha approached, leaning on the desk. Michelle glanced at Clarke as the latter massaged her forehead, exhaling.

“It’s not going to work, Marcus.”

“It was your idea.”

His voice rose, “That was for the chance to survive.”

“And how is this any different?” Abby wondered.

“Until 20 minutes ago, our people believed they were safe. They let their guards down. They picked their bunks. They unpacked their bags. They imagined their futures. You try to rip that from them now, and, believe me, they will fight.”

“No one’s saying it’s gonna be easy, but we need to make the people listen to reason.” Kane said. The discussion was cut shot by Bellamy mentioning they still needed to go get Raven. He volunteered. Michelle nodded, glancing at him as she said she would go with him and so did Clarke, but Abby didn’t want to let her daughter go.

“Mom, look, Raven needs our help. I know the way to the island. I need to do this.”

As he took a few steps toward them, Kane agreed, “Well, be safe. There’ll be a place for the three of you when you get back. I’ll meet you in the airlock.” He put his hand on Bellamy shoulder as he sent them off. They left, heading for the airlock and once there, the trio took the hazmat suits from the walls and got ready as Abby came to join them.

“At these radiation levels, any amount of exposure is harmful. Keep the suits sealed at all times.” She explained, as she helped them with their suits. They had only 23 hours left until the death wave hit. “On a good day, it takes 10 hours to get to the island, and 10 hours to get back. That doesn’t leave you much room for error.”

“Mom, I know, okay? We’ll be careful.” Michelle glanced at them from the corner of her eyes as she finished zipping her suit and picking up their things with Bellamy. They spoke to each other in hushed tones and shared a tight hug. Abby then turned to the other two and crossed Michelle’s gaze. She gave her a sweet smile and went to give her a hug, whispering in her ear that Callie, her mother, would be proud of her. She knew, her father had told her already. Her eyes got slightly watery and she shut her eyes close, a tear falling down her cheek, which she wiped off once they broke the embrace.

“Take care of each other.” She looked at Bellamy.

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned his head to the airlock door when Murphy and Emori came in. “Murphy what are you doing here?”

“We heard you were going after Raven. We just wanna help.”

“I’ve been to that island dozens of times.” Emori added. “No one knows the water better than me.”

“Maybe it’ll help our chances if we bring home the chosen ones.”

“There’s a lottery. I’ll make sure your name is in it.”

“And Emory?” Abby looked at the grounder and parted her lips, quiet for a moment.

“I’ll do the best I can.” As she gave another hug and kiss to her daughter, Michelle heard the door open again; it was her dad. She instantly turned to him and locked her arms around him breathing against his shoulder. He softly rubbed her back, placing a kiss on her head and eventually, Abby and Kane left, giving their daughters a glance and a smile. They then put on their helmets, sealing their suits and walked out through the hatch. It creaked loudly as they closed it after them. Clarke showed them to way and Michelle followed suit but, looking over her shoulder, she saw Bellamy grabbing Murphy’s arm. She squinted her eyes, staring at them.

“What are you really up to, Murphy?”

He pulled his arm out of his grip, even glancing at Michelle behind them as he knew she was there, “You killed us when you opened that door, you know that? Oh, what did you think our people would do? Waste a spot on Emori? On me? We were safe, and you screwed us. You wanna know what we’re up to? It’s called surviving. There’s a bunker on that island. You’re our ride. That’s it.” Michelle shook her head, staying quiet. She couldn’t understand how she ever was in any kind of relationship with him.

“That bunker’s not stocked, Murphy. You won’t last 5 months, let alone 5 years.”

“No, we probably won’t. At least we’ll survive the death wave. We can’t all be essential personnel, or have a sister who’s queen of the grounders,” With a scoff, he then looked over his shoulder at Michelle. “or be the Chancellor’s daughter.” As he walked past her, he gave her a sidelong glance and she frowned, shaking her head. Bellamy approached, bringing his hand in her back and they walked away, cathing up with the others.

“Why did you come on this mission, Clarke?” Bellamy asked. The three of them sat at the front of the truck, with Murphy and Emory in the back.

“Raven’s my friend.”

“Yesterday, you were fine, leaving your friend out to die. My sister, too, Kane…” Listening, Michelle looked down, sighing through her nose quietly. If she hadn’t succeeded in convincing her to let them open the bunker’s door, her father would have been dead, and she couldn’t fathom losing him.

“I wasn’t fine with it, and you know that.” There were a few seconds of silence. “Bellamy… Michelle… I never meant to hurt you.”

“Aiming a gun at us is a strange way of showing it.”

“I didn’t pull the trigger.”

Michelle finally said something, “You did, actually. A warning shot is still a shot.”

“Whatever choice I make, somebody always dies.” She then said with a heavy tone, staring at the road. Bellamy shrugged, glancing at her with a smirk.

“Well, not shooting me- not shooting Michelle; that was the right choice.” They were exchanging glances and soft smiles when Clarke suddenly turned her head back to the road and shouted as someone walked in front of the truck. He couldn’t stop the vehicle nor dodge the stranger, so they crashed into them, crushing them under the wheels as he drove to the side, urgently, and crashed into a tree. The engine stopped, with smoke coming out. They were panting, looking around, confused and startled.

“He just jumped right out in front of us.” Clarke said, shocked. “It’s like he wanted to die.”

“You two, stay here. I’m gonna check the damage.” He opened the door and as he was about to get off, he was pulled out of the truck by a man who was shouting in trigedaslend. The two young women gasped, turning to the other door to get out but another grounder appeared on the other side, boxing them in until, like with Bellamy, they were dragged outside. Murphy shouted at the back, warning them others were coming, and the vehicle began to shake as they were slammed against it, beating them up, trying to take their suits off them. Arrows flew by their heads, shooting down their attackers. Someone seemingly came to their rescue on a horse, and that someone turned out to be the banished Azgedan spy, Echo. It was once she pulled down the mask hiding her face that they realized it was her but for the whole time she spent shooting arrows, throwing knives and slashing with her sword, they couldn’t tell who it was. The whole group was panting, looking at the newcomer.

“There might be more of them. We should get going.”

“Echo, what are you doing here?” Bellamy enquired.

“I know about your bunker on the island. I just saved your lives. I’m hoping you will return the favor.” She looked genuinely desperate. There was hopelessness in her eyes and the ever-growing level of radiation in the air was already affecting her breathing and face, on which there was a lot of redness, but maybe the fact that she was catching her breath was also because of the energy she had just spent on the fight. Bellamy was hesitant and looked around him, crossing the gazes of Clarke and Michelle beside him.

“Unless we can get another ride, no one’s making it to that island.” There was really no other choice but to let her come with them, and there wasn’t much time to talk this over anyways – they didn’t have much time to get there, and then return to Polis. As Abby said, not much room for error. But they still didn’t have another way to go there quickly since the truck was no longer an option after the accident and moving six people by foot would take twice as much time, if not more and they would never be able to make the return trip. As time passed, Bellamy kept on trying to establish contact with Murphy over the radio, but they didn’t get any response and Michelle was growing restless and anxious, going back and forth, staring into the void. She was quite frightened by what this delay would mean. She wouldn’t see her father for at least the next five years, during which the ground would be totally unsurvivable for anyone but maybe it wouldn’t be for much longer and not being sure about how long they would be separated made her feel like a cat on a hot tin roof. She glanced over her shoulder; Clarke was helping Echo put on their spare suit. Finally, after hours, Monty’s voice rose and Michelle swiftly turned on her heels, staring at Bellamy who urged to respond to their friend.

“Yes, Monty. I read you. Where are you?”

“Two clicks outside Polis. Almost there.” Michelle had almost forgotten that he had stayed back at Arkadia with Harper and the others but clearly, they had changed their minds and were making their way to Polis. This could be their ride to the island with the rover. “Everything okay?”

“Not exactly. Look, Monty. I hate to ask you this, but we broke down on the way to the island to get Raven. We need to come reel us in.

After a second, he said, “We’re on our way. Tell us exactly where you are.” Then, suddenly, Emori started coughing profusely. Blood was dripping from her mouth. Clarke rushed to take a look, and her conclusion was clear – she had been exposed to the radiations. 

“How’s that possible? She’s wearing a suit.” Murphy asked, angry and worried about his girlfriend. Emory slightly turned around, and Clarke looked up.

“The seal of her helmet is torn.”

“Can you fix it?” Emory asked, fear piercing through her voice. Murphy was about as scared and said they could use tape to fix it but as Clarke went on to remind him, they didn’t have any tools or weapons. The only thing they had brought was this spare suit, which they had just given to Echo.

“So we give her the extra suit then.”

“We don’t have another suit.” Bellamy argued, raising his voice.

Murphy snapped, shouting, “Yes, we do!” His eyes then went to Echo. “Take it off, now.”

“I saved your life.” She stared at him.

“What were you gonna do if we didn’t get attacked, huh? I mean, you guys seriously think she was following us out of the kindness of her own heart? No. She was gonna attack us the second that we stopped. Give me that suit.” He threateningly walked towards her and Bellamy stood in his way, trying to stop him. They were yelling at each other, arguing and pushing each other around.

“You cut that suit and it serves no one.”

“I’m not letting her die.”

“Neither am I.” Everyone turned to Clarke, not expecting to hear her voice but a second later, she was already taking off her helmet. Michelle took a step towards her, parting her lips.

“No, Clarke—”

“Clarke, what are you doing?” Bellamy got concerned as well.

“I have nightblood.”

“Untested nightblood.” He cut her off.

“We’re testing it now. Take off her helmet.” Emori was gasping and coughing, breathing with difficulty while Murphy quickly took it off to replace it with Clarke’s. Bellamy and Michelle shared worried glances as they watched.

Monty came back over the radio, “Bellamy, you there? Come in.”

“Yeah, we’re here. Head northeast from Polis, and Monty… drive fast.”

Looking down at her watch, Michelle saw they only had about 12 hours to get to the bunker. She took a deep breath, raising her head and glancing at Bellamy next to her. He had seen the time on his watch as well. But to her, it was over no matter what happened. She wouldn’t see her father again for years, if they did make it to the island, if they lasted long enough there and Bellamy had already told Murphy that there would barely be enough rations for a few months. Clarke came up to them.

“We have to talk about it.”

“Missed the window.” Michelle closed her eyes at Bellamy’s words, letting out a heavy sigh. “Continue to the island, we won’t make it back.”

“What about them? Do we just save ourselves?” She looked over her shoulder at Emory and Murphy sat on the ground.

“Clarke, if nightblood works, we need to get you to Polis, them, too. We pull in as many people as we can before the death wave hits. If your mom can make us all nightbloods, we only need to stay down there until it passes. We can still save everyone.”

“Just not Raven.” She added gravely. The Rover's headlights illuminated them, and they turned their heads towards the incoming vehicle. Monty parked it in front of them and got out.

“We got here as fast as we could.” He noticed Clarke’s helmet was missing and frowned worriedly. “Clarke, you’re exposed. Come on. Let’s get you into the rover.”

“No, Monty. I’m fine.”

“I’ll grab the extra helmet.” Harper added. She brought an entire suit because the helmet didn’t match the suit Clarke was already wearing. Murphy took care of Emory. Echo had been somewhat affected by the radiations she had been exposed to and Bellamy and Michelle helped her to walk to the back of the car. They stopped in their tracks, looking at Clarke as they heard her cough and spit black blood. Bellamy let go of Echo and Michelle passed her on to Harper who continued to the car without the two. Monty urged Clarke to take the suit, adding that it was supposed to be with Jasper. That’s when Michelle realized that the latter was indeed no where to be seen. He had let himself die with the others at Arkadia. He was Monty’s best friend. Michelle couldn’t imagine losing Clarke.

“You should put it on. Jasper would want you to.” He insisted. “If we’re still gonna make it to the island, we better—”

“We’re not going to the island.” Bellamy declared. Neither Clarke nor Michelle understood why he was saying this – of course they were going to the island.

“Nightblood doesn’t work.” She spoke.

“We don’t know that yet. Luna got sick before she got better, so—”

“Even if you’re right, they won’t let us all into the bunker if I’m still sick. It took days for Luna’s resistance to kick in, and by that time, the death wave will already be here, and all our friends will be dead. Are you okay with that?”

“You know I’m not… Clarke, unless I’m missing something, there is no other way for all of us to survive.”

“What if there is?”

“What do you mean?” Michelle asked, shaking her head in confusion. Her idea was to go up – to go back to space with the rocket she had seen at the bunker. Hours later, they arrived at the island at last and entered the bunker. They were standing by the railing as they took off their helmets as Raven looked up to them with a subtle frown. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re not leaving you behind.” Bellamy spoke, climbing down the stairs leading to the laboratory below, where Raven was. She didn’t understand what they were doing. There was not time for them to go back to Polis. And as Clarke had suggested earlier, they weren’t going back, they were going up.

“Space? But we don’t have enough fuel to get down.”

“Sounds like a 5-year problem to me.” Harper joked. Raven looked back to Clarke, realizing what she meant by going to speace.

“you’re talking about the ring?”

“Seems like a shame to let a good rocket go to waste.” Bellamy added.

“Uh, how do we live?”

“They left a water reclamator there, and we know that go-sci has an algae farm.” She explained, holding her helmet under her arm. “We just get those two things up and running, and we have food and water.”

Murphy spoke with a dragging voice, “Algae salads and recycled urine. Sign me up.”

“Better than dying.”

He turned his head towards Emory, “Yeah, you say that now.”

“All right, slow down.” Raven went back to speaking seriously. “Breathing’s important too. What’s the plan for oxygen?”

“Based on what Murphy says about the lighthouse bunker, I’m guessing— make that praying— there’s an oxygenator there. We take it with us. You hook it up. Bob’s your uncle.”

“You’re an engineer, Monty. You do know there’s about a thousand things wrogn with that plan, right?”

“Yes, and every one of them kills us.” He shrugged. “Of course, staying here will kill us too, so—”

“Raven, we need you to get us off the ground before the death wave hits. What do you say? Can you do it?”

She turned to Bellamy, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at each of them, unsure about her ability to pull this off, “What do I say?” Taking a few steps away, she looked at a map on a screen, showing the progression of the death wave and the location of Arkadia and Polis, as well as the lab they were in. Arkadia was already gone but they had a little less than 11 hours before it reached them. “I say that death wave can kiss my ass.”

“Good.” Clarke nodded. “It’s settled then. We’re going back to the Ark.”

Michelle had her arms crossed, going back and forth the lab, kind of dragging her feet around. Looking over her shoulder, she watched Bellamy in the glass-walled room upstairs, sitting on a couch and talking through the radio. He was talking to Octavia. She was waiting for their conversation to be over so she could have a word with her father before not hearing from him or seeing him at all for the next few years. She was nervously tapping on her arm with her index finger, turning her head back around, sighing through her nose. She had to hope they would survive five years in space, return to earth and she would be reunited with her dad and all would be well. She had to be somewhat delusional that nothing bad would fuck up their plans because if there was no hope to see him again, she would lose it. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing both her parents after spending barely half a year with him as her actual dad after spending her entire life not knowing. She threw her head back, closing her eyes and exhaled as she then stared at the ceiling before approaching the screen to see the progression of the death wave.

She eventually walked up the stairs and softly opened the door. They locked eyes and she barely took one step in the room before stopping in her tracks, gulping. One glance at the radio and the microphone in his hand, added to his silence, let her understand that the communications had been cut by the radiations of the upcoming death wave. She turned to the side, clenching and unclenching her fist repeatedly and slightly flaring her nostrils as she breathed in and out. She felt her lip quiver and her eyes filling with tears. Bellamy’s hand grabbed her shoulder, and he turned her towards him, drawing her into a hug. She gulped air, squinting her eyes, her sight got blurrier from the tears, and they fell down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t say goodbye to your dad. We’ll meet them again.” He spoke quietly, trying to keep himself from getting emotional but she heard that he wanted to cry too and maybe it was because of her that he contained himself. She broke down and weeped, stifling a sob, gripping onto his suit, feeling his arms tighten around her. His chest heavied against her as he pressed his cheek against her face, his breath blowing in her hair. She tried to catch her breath in order to stop crying and she felt his head move away from hers and she looked over her shoulder. Clarke was staring at them worriedly. She slightly turned; the hug got looser but they didn’t entirely let go of each other right away. “The radio’s dead… won’t get to say goodbye to your mom. I’m sorry.”

Seeing her break down in tears got Michelle crying some more as she and Bellamy walked towards her to hug her. They broke the embrace when Murphy’s voice rose from the laboratory, telling them to come down. They were all gathered in front of the screen she was looking at earlier and they watched as the death wave hit Polis before their eyes. Michelle tried to steady her breathing, in order not to cry in front of the group but a few tears ran down her cheeks. Bellamy put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing it softly in his hand. There was shock on all their faces, but Michelle’s twisted with sadness, and she closed her eyes. It was too much to see, knowing her father was right under that tower. She knew he was safe in the bunker and yet her imagination couldn’t help but make her believe he was going to die.

“It’s 210 miles from Polis to the island.” Raven said. “According to what was our last drone, the wave is accelerating. If we’re not off the ground at least 20 minutes before it hits, the electromagnetic charge in the pyroclastic cloud will shut down the rocket’s avionics, meaning it won’t fly. That gives us 90 minutes to run a 6-hour preflight check, retrieve the oxygen generator from the lighthouse, turn a cockpit designed for two into one that can carry 9, and load the cargo hold with enough food to keep us from starving in space while we wait for the algae to bloom.”

“I thought you said it was gonna be hard.” Murphy commented.

“That’s not the hard part. Becca designed her rocket to dock with Polaris, not the ark. That means I have to pilot it into the hangar bay on the ring.”

“What’s so hard about that?” Harper wondered.

“That’s not the hard pat, either.”

“What is the hard part, Raven?” Clarke urgently asked.

“Assuming we blast off in time, CO2 scrubbers on a two-person rocket won’t support 9 of us.”

“So we use supplemental oxygen.”

“Our tanks only hold an hour of air.” Monty said, looking at Clarke. She and Bellamy turned their heads towards him simultaneously.

“Correct. We’ll have one hour to get into orbit, land in the hangar bay, and fire up the life-support system using an oxygen generator built to supply a lighthouse bachelor pad.”

“You suck at talking people into things. You know that right?” Murphy grumbled.

“Anyone still need to be talked into this?” Bellamy made eye contact with each of them, and they all shook their heads to confirm that no one needed to be talked into this anymore. They were all in on it. “Good. Now we know the many ways we might die today, why don’t you tell us what we have to do to live?”

Raven acquiesced, turning to the computers at the center of the room and began tapping on the keyboards before her, launching the final countdown; the last 90 minutes they had before being stuck in the bunker and dying of starvation within a few months. The seconds passed on the screen while they stared anxiously. They had to get to it now. The final stretch. Murphy and Monty went to walk through the woods to get to the lighthouse while the rest of them worked around the laboratory; Echo helped Emory at the rocket, bringing her stuff she needed, and Clarke, Michelle and bellamy worked on how to survive until they could use the algae farm to sustain themselves on the Ark. Michelle stood by Bellamy near the staircase, his hand on the railing, tapping on it with his thumb. They were looking at the two grounders at the rocket.

“Grounders in space, it’s an oxymoron.” He spoke as Clarke approached.

“Survival’s a team sport, especially up there. It was the only choice. Only choice, also an oxymoron, by the way.”

“So is cold sweat.” He sketched a tight smile with a worried frown. “Still holding out hope for that nightblood solution.”

“There was never any solution.” She shot up her eyebrows. “Alie was right about that.

“Our fight is not over.”

“My mom had a vision of me dying, just like the one Raven had that told her there was a rocket there.”

“You’re not going to die, Clarke. It is not the same thing.” Michelle shook her head.

“Yeah, they were both EMP’d.”

“And Abby will be fine, too.” He spoke. “Raven told her how to stop it.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. If anything happens to me—”

Bellamy grabbed her by her shoulders, widening his eyes, “Nothing is happening to you.” He walked to the computer, urging them to run the water numbers again but she insisted that he hear what she had to tell him too. Michelle was already listening, but he was reluctant to hear it and understandably so. None of them wanted to face the possibility of Clarke’s death. She was their best friend. Clarke plunged her eyes into theirs.

“We’ve been through a lot together, you and I. I didn’t like you at first— that’s no secret.”

“I didn’t either.” Michelle chuckled faintly. Looking back, it was crazy how far they had come since their first encounter at the dropship’s landing. Clarke laughed quietly too.

“But even then, every stupid thing you did, it was to protect your sister.” He gave a subtle nod, looking away. “She didn’t always see that, But I did. You’ve got such a big heart, Bellamy.”

“Clarke—”

“People will follow you. You inspire them because of it, but the only way to make sure we survive is you use this too.” She lifted her finger to his head, poking his temple.

He shook his head, “We got you for that.”

Her lips quivered faintly, “Raven’s premonition came true.” Their conversation was interrupted when a loud electric zapping sound caught their attention and Raven yelled. They came running towards the rocket to check if everyone was okay. Bellamy climbed the ladder to the cockpit, peeked inside.

“Raven, what is it?” He enquired.

“Oh, there isn’t enough time.’ She groaned. “We’re pushing too hard.”

“What’s happening?”

“Computer, systems check.” Once he stepped inside, Clarke and Michelle squeezed together on the ladder and climbed. The rocket’s computer’s voice spoke, listing the various systems and their state. Two out of three were optimal, aside from the life-support system. “It’s okay. We’re using completemental anyway.”

“All life-support systems are offline.” The voice declared.

“Just wait. Two more.” She shook her head, frowning in concern. The life-support systems weren’t the only one to be completely offline, the communication systems were as well. “Recommend repair options for communication system.”

“Who cares? There’s no one to talk to anyway.” Harper didn’t understand. Raven straight up told her to be quiet, waiting for the repair options, but all damages were beyond repair. They would need to replace the entire communication system for it to be able to work.

“Talk to us, Raven.” Bellamy urged.

She slowly looked over her shoulder and then stared into space, “We’re not going anywhere. Computer, terminate launch sequence.” She got up and Clarke and Michelle stepped aside to let her through as she sighed heavily and walked away. They all came after her, wanting her to explain herself.

“It’s simple. There’s no power in the ring. Two minutes ago, I though it wasn’t a problem because I could activate it remotely.”

“Over the rocket’s com system.” Clarke figured.

“So, we turn the power on from the inside.” Bellamy spoke.

“We can’t get inside. That’s the point. Without power, we can’t even open the hangar door.” She was beyond frustrated, but Clarke encouraged her to think harder, she had solved way bigger problems than this before. It would be quite difficult to do so in the 53 minutes they had left.  

“It’s over, Clarke.” She shouted. “You know, maybe if I still had Alie’s code eating away my brain, I could figure it out. I’m not smart enough myself.” She let herself fall on the stairs to the rocket, hopeless. Clarke didn’t what else to do. She turned to the others, standing around and Bellamy approached, trying to talk to Raven, sitting beside her. She wouldn’t believe him when he insisted, she could do this.

“How many times have you saved our asses before you ever heard of Alie?” He asked.

“Oh, too many to count.”

“You’re damn right. We don’t need Alie on the ark. We need you.” Tear fell down her face and she wiped them and frowned. “What?”

“Alie was on the Ark.” She jerked to her feet. “I— I was right there, so close to the kill switch, but she got away by transmitting herself to the ring.”

“Using the pod in the temple.” Emory spoke.

“Yes. If she can do it, so can we.”

“Raven, we’ll never make it back to Polis on time, and the radios are dead.”

She took a few steps toward Clarke, “We have something better than radios— the satellite tower.” Turning back to Echo, Emory and Harper, she told them to get back in the cockpit and to finish to prepare the restraints for them during the flight, and then motioned to Clarke, Michelle and Bellamy, urging them to go put their helmets on and come with her. They geared up and went out. They could see the tower stretch out in the sky and according to Raven, it was less than a mile away. She repeated the instructions; all they had to do was plug a device into the junction box, at the base of the tower. Simple enough said like that. Once the tablet would be connected, it would align itself with the ark. She gave the rest of the directions. “Are there any questions?”

“Yeah. Why are you smiling?” Clarke wondered.

“Because without comms, even with the power on, we still can’t open that hangar bay door from inside the rocket.”

“Wait, how is that a good thing?”

“She gets to take her space walk.” Michelle was staring at Raven as she figured what Bellamy had been failing to understand, bringing the two others’ gazes on her. In the distance, behind Raven, they saw Murphy carrying the generator they needed, and they rushed towards him. He was panting loudly and struggling with how heavy that things was, eventually falling over. But something concerning that they noticed, was that Monty wasn’t there with him. Murphy was about to help himself up but took Michelle’s hand as she stretched it out to him. He told them that Monty was in trouble and had passed out in the forest. His hands had been touched by the radiations.

“If we go back now, we can get to him.” He pointed at the trees behind him. “You can be impressed with me later, we gotta go.”

“Alignign the dish is a one-person job. Clarke can handle it.” Raven said. “Michelle will help me with the generator.”

“Bellamy—”

“Clarke, if it’s one of those moments where you tell me to use my head—”

“No. I was just gonna say, hurry.”

“You, too. Lead the way.” He ran to the forest, following Murphy while Clarke went to the tower and Raven and Michelle carried the machine back to the laboratory to set it in the rocket. Eventually, Bellamy and Murphy came in, carrying Monty and sat him down to the side. Emory was relieved to see Murphy safe and sound and wrapped her arms around him. Harper rushed to Monty, wanting to look at his hands but there was no time. They would take care of it once on the Ark. They had just 5 minutes left ahead of them. “Clarke’s not back yet.”

“By now she should be on her way.” They had to finish getting ready for launch. Raven led them to the rocket, telling them all to refill their oxygen tanks and load up for the flight. She would tell them when to turn them on, so as not to waste any air, given they would have only an hour each.

“Where’s Echo?” Bellamy wondered. Only then did Michelle realize the grounder wasn’t with them. He left to find her while they all got strapped in. When Echo joined them, they only had 2 minutes left. Clarke was still not here. They waited until the countdown ran out, but Bellamy was still waiting outside the rocket, staring at the stairs, hoping she would appear any second now, but they had to go. The radiations outside were already affecting the ship’s avionics, so if they wanted to successfully reach space, it was now or never. He got in and reluctantly closed the cockpit door.

“Can we give her another minute?” Emory asked.

“We’re out of time.” Bellamy sat down next to Michelle and strapped himself in. Michelle looked down, hoping her best friend would somehow survive out there. “This is what Clarke would want us to do. If we wait, then we die.”

“Wait. How are we gonna know she got the power on, then?” Murphy wondered.

“We’ll know when we get there.” Raven closed her helmet, ordering the opening of the launching door. She initiated the countdown until lauch, anxiously listening to the numbers being spoken by the robotic voice. Michelle and Bellamy held each other’s hand, looking out the porthole. It broke their hearts to have to leave Clarke behind, but there was no other choice. The rocket fired up and flew out of the bunker. The ship shook a lot during the flight until they reached space.

“Welcome to zero G, boys and girls.” Raven smiled. She took control of the navigation, setting the rings’ coordinates and a few seconds later, they saw it on the screen, still quite a bit far away from them but they were getting there. The ring was dark, meaning Clarke must have had some problems with connecting the tablet to the tower and set the power on. But Bellamy and Michelle, though not entirely confident, knew she would have it done. She had to.

“Ready for a spacewalk, Raven?” He asked.

“You know I am, but if Clarke doesn’t get the power on—” One glance from him and she cut herself off. “Suiting up.” She detached herself from her seat and flew through the hatch in the floor and went outside. Michelle watched him as Bellamy got off his seat to float up to the porthole and take a look out. She observed his face, practically holding her breath until joining him to the window.

“I left her behind.” He mumbled, tilting his head forward in guilt. Michelle put her hand on his arm.

“She would’ve wanted us to do this. You said it yourself, and you know it’s true.”

“No, I left her behind, and we all die, anyway.”

“Guys, look.” They glanced at Monty before looking out the window again. The ark was lit up. She had done it. She managed to set the power on. Raven managed to open the hangar door. She pulled herself back to the rocket and drove it inside the hangar before closing the door, allowing everyone out. Home sweet home, as said Murphy as they entered. Raven was the first to be running out of air and Emory shared hers. The next to hear a beeping sound was Michelle. The oxygen level on the watch connected to her suit and oxygen tank showed she had almost nothing left.

“Bellamy, hurry up. Michelle’s running out of air.” Upon hearing Monty, Bellamy widened his eyes in worry and looked at her. Echo pushed him aside to open the vent quicker. She tore it off the wall. Michelle couldn’t breathe and let herself fall against the wall. Monty kneeled beside her, urging Bellamy to get the tubes and connect the generator. She was gasping for air. Monty couldn’t grab things because of his hand so Echo took off her helmet and gave her air from another tank. She inhaled deeply and shared it with Echo, taking one breath after the other. But they quickly ran out and were all on the verge of passing out. Michelle head rolled to the side and fell on Echo’s shoulder before her eyes closed. She came back to her senses, opening her eyes wide, panting and gasping and she looked around and stumbled towards Bellamy, collapsed on the ground. She groaned, pulling his helmet off of him so he wouldn’t suffocate in his suit. He looked up, breathing quickly, and held Michelle’s hand. They would be fine now.

After taking off his suit, Bellamy found an empty bottle by a window, looking down on the earth, now just a scorching ball of fire. Michelle walked up to him, touching his hand with the back of hers as they were joined by Raven.

“She saved us again.” She spoke under her breath. “Think we can do this without her?”

“If we don’t, she died in vain. And I’m not gonna let that happen.” Bellamy couldn’t take his eyes off the planet before them. It was unrecognizable. No blue or green left to see. “You with me?”

The two young women glanced at each other, and turned their head to him, “Always.” Michelle nodded, and though she said nothing else, she didn’t think any less. She would never give up on Bellamy and he knew it. She felt him grab her hand and she brought her other hand to his arm as they intertwined their fingers. It was the end of the world they had grown accustomed too, but, hopefully, not the end of the entire world.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (09/27/2024)

Published (08/30/2024) by Andrea

Taglist:  @mirellef2001

[threephantomrey]

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY @rose-of-pollux!!! today i have a gift for you: this oneshot i wrote about Daphne and Vincent! i hope that you enjoy it and that you have a great day! i love you <3

[teafaellana]

Chapters: 7/20 Fandom: The Parent Trap (1998) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Meredith Blake/Chessy, Elizabeth James/Nick Parker Characters: Meredith Blake, Chessy (The Parent Trap), Nick Parker, Elizabeth James, Hallie Parker, Annie James, Richard (Meredith’s Assistant), Martin, Judy Amoroso (Chessy’s Mom - OC), Vicky Blake (Meredith’s Mom), Les Blake (Meredith’s Dad) Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, comphet, closeted lesbian, Meredith is a closeted lesbian, the fic starts with Meredith/Nick, moderate canon divergence, narcissistic parents, homophobic parents, Some Angsty Angst, Some Fluff Summary:

Meredith Blake has always known exactly what she wants. Unfortunately, she has also always known exactly what her parents want. So what if she is only marrying someone for money and comfort? She has long since buried the dream of finding love, and Nick Parker is good to her. Chessy, Nick's nanny, is another story- one that Meredith can easily handle.

Everything starts really falling apart when Hallie and Annie bring their mother, Elizabeth James, to California. Nick and Liz still pine for each other, and it’s plain to see. This could ruin Meredith’s perfect plans! Feeling isolated from her own truth and almost everyone around her, Meredith finds comfort where no one sees coming.

[frecklesandfanfics]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43321690/chapters/108897049

Merry Christmas!

The cashier’s name tag reads Vera, and Vera is excellent at looking upset. “You have terrible timing, you’re too late,” she answers, “Jake and Abby, they went about six months apart. He had a heart attack, they think, and drove straight off Canyon Bridge. And poor Abby just went in her sleep one night. They said–”

Who is they, exactly?

“They said she died of grief, really. About a year ago, now, I guess.”

“That’s awful,” Bellamy says, and means it. Jake and Abby had never been anything but kind to him. He had imagined finding them a little grayer, but much the same.

[shawtybabe]

Pinball Wizard: Unexpected Encounter (Vance Hopper x Fem! Reader Chap. 4)

Edit- This is kind of rushed, I promise things will get good next Chapter, I'm planning a whole chapter with just you and Vance <3.

-----------------------------

The next few hours consisted of me rushing around the house, tiding things, and prepping for visitors, my mom was having a nap after being out at her client's house. She is a drug dealer, but sometimes I suspect that she is a prostitute, I mean why else would she have to go to their houses, why can't they come here?

I don't mind, as long as she doesn't get any STD's or anything then I don't really care, my mom knows how much I love my privacy, so I give her hers, it's a mutual understanding. Anyway, as long as she's making money that I get to spend, why should I complain?

I sighed as I looked to the clock, it was five fifty-six, everyone should be here soon. I had the blanket fought done, bowls of snacks and a few joins I had made a few days before all set up. I figured we could all smoke a few together, just enough to get us all giggly and chatty.

Mom doesn't mind that I smoke her stuff, she just tells me to give her a call if I'm gunna get high out of the house, that way if I'm in any trouble, she knows where I am. Also, if I'm going out with people, always make sure there is at least one person I can trust if I go a bit overboard and need a ride home or something. Those were her only rules, which I think is fair, it's not unreasonable and I'm still getting high in the end.

My head snapped towards the door as I heard the sound of my doorbell echo throughout the house. A wave of butterflies flapped around in my stomach as I made my way over to the door, I hope everything is set up fine.

I took a deep breath and swung the door open, meeting eyes with Rachel. "Hey girl, come in. Make yourself at home!" The girl grinned at me as she walked in, her bag in one hand and her pillow tucked snuggly under her opposite arm.

"Wow, your house is so nice! I actually wasn't sure of this was the right house, so I was kinda nervous, the agonizingly long walk up the driveway didn't help." She laughed; I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. "Yeah, sorry, it's such a pain to walk up every afternoon. I think I'm gunna ask mom for a car soon." I laughed with her.

I showed her to my room, not worrying too much about the amount of noise we were making, mom usually sleeps with earbuds in and an eye mask on anyway. She placed her bag down on my bed and I gave her a small tour of the house. She said she was eager for a swim, just didn't bring swimmers, I said she could borrow a pair of mine if she wanted.

That was one thing I didn't account for, the pool. Throughout the three weeks I've been here, I haven't used my pool even once. That's probably why I forgot about it, we even have a jacuzzi and I didn't bother thinking about the fact that others might want to use it.

I brought her back to the lounge room and we continued to talk about anything and everything that came to mind. After we both came down from a miniature laughing fit, I decided I should ask her if she was comfortable with smoking weed.

"Hey... So, I snagged few cigarettes, well not cigarettes." I got caught up in my own sentence and just ended up showing her the few I stashed under my pillow inside the fought. "I snagged some joints, are you gunna have any?" I finally managed to ask, she snatched one off me and inspected it carefully with a shocked face.

"Fuck yeah, is that even a question? I've always wanted to smoke weed, but what about your mother?" She asked cautiously, I waved a hand in front of her face in a carefree manner. "My mom's my supplier." I gave a cheeky grin and the girls jaw fell open wide. "Yeah, I was kind of hesitant to tell anyone at first, a lot of the people that have found out in the last towns I've been in haven't taken the information so well." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. But everyone in Denver is super chill and actually encourages it, perks of being a shithole town, everyone is a shitty person with shitty habits and addictions." Rachel explained and a smug look on her face. "Good to know." I laughed briefly, until I heard the doorbell ring out once again.

"I'll be right back." I said, getting up with a grunt and wandering over to the door. I opened it to find Julie, she had a large smile on her face as I opened the door wider for her to come in. I welcomed her just the same as I did to Rachel, I showed her around and offered her a pair of my swimmers if she wanted to go for a dip in the pool or relax in the jacuzzi.

----

After everyone had arrived, we decided to go for a dip in the pool to start things off. I handed all the girls a pair of swimmers that I think would fit best, I made sure everyone was fine with the types and colors I was giving them. I know some people don't like bikini sets and certain colors and patterns, I'm the same, I am very specific about styles and colors of clothes.

We all snatched a towel each before padding out onto the patio, the hot air stuck to our skin as it had still lingered from the hot day beforehand. We all dipped our feet in, getting a feel of the water before we actually got in. The new sensation of the cool water at my feet, mixed with the hot, sticky air sent a shiver up my spine and goosebumps erupt over my legs and arms.  

We all let out little squeals and laughs, Casey and I clung to each other, laughing with delight. "Ok, ok, it's not even that bad, let's get in together. Three, two, one!" I breathed in through my nose and exhaled as I counted down.

Casey and I jumped in at the same time, out hands locked together. We resurfaced, our hair all slicked back and let out a loud laugh. We were the first ones in, so we took it upon ourselves to help the others get acquainted with the refreshing sensation by splashing them as much as we could. I even grabbed Rachels leg and dragged her in, she squealed and thrashed but it was too late, I already had her tumbling into the water. 

It was getting kind of dark our, the sun had just set, so I decided it would be a good idea to turn the pool and patio lights on. I got out momentarily and flicked a switch by the glass doors, the once dark spots in corners or shadows disappearing as everything was flooded with light. 

I grind as I turned back towards the rest of the girls, getting a running start as I bomb dived in, splashing everyone in the process. This started the trend of showing off our best dives to one another. We performed our toughest dive while the other watched from a small distance.  

After that, we all laughed and splashed together, enjoying each other's company until we all grew tired and laid on our back with our arms and legs spread wide like a starfish, floating peacefully. 

I sighed just before I sunk underwater, watching the bubbles skyrocket to the surface when I opened my mouth. I swam along the bottom of the pool, thinking and enjoying the comfortable silence all of us created. 

I kicked my legs as I resurfaced, breathing in and out, running my palms along my hair, slicking it all back until it was smooth again. I was about to sink back underwater when I felt my stomach grumble. This gave me the perfect idea for food. 

"Hey, is anyone else hungry?" I asked, gently breaking the silence. Everyone nodded and started discussing what we should eat, I told them they don't have to worry about the budget, and to go nuts. 

My mom won't mind, she never does, as long as I'm happy, safe and fulfilled is all she wants. After some more talking, we all decided to go to a diner, it's easy to access and has food everyone enjoys. 

We all snatched our towels and dried off, shivering and huddling away from the cold breeze. The air has also freshened up, instead of being hot and sticky, it was cool and crisp, making the breeze much worse than it already is. 

My teeth chattered gently as I quickly padded my way towards the big glass doors, following Julie closely from behind. We made it in and relaxed just a bit at the slightly warmer interior of the house. 

"Everyone pass me your towels, I'll put them in the dryer for a little. We can take them out again if we want to go back in or maybe chill in the jacuzzi later on." I said after everyone was done drying themselves and their hair. I went around, taking towels off people and bringing them to the laundry room. 

When I came back, almost everyone was finished changing. I quickly threw on some new clothes, just something comfy like a pair of high waisted jeans with saggy cuffs, paired with a lowcut blue midriff shirt that showed just a bit of cleavage, I pulled on a pair of high-tops and a black jumper to finish the look off. 

My hair was still a little damp, the towel hadn't fully dried it, I didn't mind. It could dry in the wind, plus that just makes it curlier in the end, I hate it when my hair is straight, it's so boring and makes my head look long, which believe it or not, isn't so flattering on me. 

Everyone was dressed into their own comfy clothes, looking as gorgeous as ever. We all headed downstairs, I snatched my mom's purse from the counter and took out her card, she won't mind. Were about to open the front door when I remembered something. "Oh, wait up guys. I'm just going to write my mom a note in case she wakes up and we're gone." 

I stormed over to the small desk in the far corner of the room, rummaging around until I found a pen and paper. I scribbled the information on it and placed it atop the counter before jogging back to the girls. 

----

We all linked arms and skipped down the quiet, deserted road at the start of my driveway. We laughed and tumbled into one another as if we were all drunk. If we're all clumsy now, I can't imagine us when we get high together. 

I pushed the thought aside as Rachel started telling us some sort of story about this guy who gave her his number, I'm not too sure how the conversation started, but I was happily listening anyway. 

We arrived at the diner just as Rachel finished up her story. The bell chimed loudly as we entered the cozy looking place, the air was heavy with the aroma of fries, coke and best of all, burgers. This diner is my favorite because they have a slushy machine in the corner, the flavors were minimized to coke and cherry, but it was better than the regular stuff, plus if you get a specific meal order, you get free refills. Another thing is their selection of burgers, they sell all kinds, they even take requests for which meat you want on them and how you want the meat cooked. 

We managed to snatch a booth made for eight people, all squeezing together comfortably. We all grabbed at a menu and started gazing through it. I was looking through the loaded fry's selection when I felt an unfamiliar gaze on me, all the other girls had their head down, scanning through the food options. 

I looked up and around the room, only for my eyes to meet a pair of bright blue, almost sparkling ones. I recognized them immediately, I looked to the pale face of Vance Hopper, shooting him a small smile as I turned back to my most important mission, deciding which food to get. 

I noticed he was with some friends too, I hadn't seen him with others before, it didn't even occur to me that he had friends. Every time I saw him, he was by himself. If I'm being honest, before now I wouldn’t have put it past him if he said he didn’t have any friends at all.

I went back to my menu, deciding to go with the loaded chipotle bacon fry's and a cherry slushie. I waited for everyone else to make up their mind before calling a waiter over, she seemed worn out just looking at all of us.

I honestly feel kind of bad, but I want food and she signed up for this, so she’s gunna have to deal with it. We all gave her our orders; she scribbled them down as if she was being rushed and had to triple check that she got everyone’s orders right.

She brought out our slushy cups first, I was the first to get up and race to the machine. It made an odd whirring sound as it constantly kept the liquid moving. I grabbed my cup and placed it under the little nozzle, I was about to pull the handle to it down when someone came up beside me which caused me to jump a little and gasp.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, you scared me, I-“ I cut myself off as I turned to the person, only to see Vance. I sighed a breath of relief. “Don’t scare me like that, I almost had a heart attack.” I exclaimed, beginning to fill my cup up.

“Don’t be such a baby, get over it.” He rolled his eyes and I smirked at him. “What are you smiling at?” He snapped, only causing me to smile more. “You dumbass, why are you so mean, hmm? What have I done to you recently to make you snap at me the way you do?” I asked smugly, fitting the lid to my cup on tightly.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw for just a moment. “I don’t know, okay? People just… piss me off, is all.” He confessed gruffly, I nodded. “Trust me, I understand a lot more than you think.” I moved out of the way for him to use the machine, continuing to try and hold a conversation with this guy.

“Do you come here often?” I asked, slanting my hips and popping a straw from a pile next to me, into the thick liquid. He shrugged, his golden curls bobbing as he did so, it made me giggle. “What the hell are you laughing at?” He asked, giving me a mean side glance. “Your hair kind of reminds me of a jellyfish.” I commented, covering my mouth with my hand to try and contain my laughter.

He, for some reason, didn’t find my comment funny or amusing in the slightest. “Oh fuck off, your hair makes you look like a lame ass lion!” He resorted, only resulting in me laughing harder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it as an insult, if anything I’m jealous of your hair. It’s so curly and long, I envy you.” I said, trying to cover my mistakes with kindness. He only scoffed, shaking his head at me as he reached for a straw, I handed him one to save him from reaching past me.  

“Thanks, bye.” He mumbled so faintly I almost didn’t hear it. “You’re welcome, see ya.” I gave a small wave to which he only nodded his head at me, his eyebrows still knotted, and a tiny frown painted his lips. I gave one last smile as we both parted, going back to our friends. 

They all looked at me as if I was the devil himself, I gave them a concerned look as I sat back down. "Why are you all looking at me like you've just spoken to the devil?" I asked, trying hard not to make the silence awkward. 

"Because you were speaking to the person most people fear more than death, Pinball Vance Hopper." Julie said, her voice high pitched as she whisper-shouted at me, I scoffed. "You guys are so dramatic, he's not that bad when you actually talk to him." I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "My sister tried to ask him for a pencil, and he threatened to gouge her eyes out with it." Julie countered, still in disbelief. "He was probably just in a bad mood that day." I shrugged. 

Julie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose tightly. "The point is that he didn't yell, scream or threaten you. That's weird, how the hell weren't you scared, especially after that argument you guys got into together!?" I twisted the straw in my drink. "I cleared things up with him, if I ever see him at the grab and go, I give him pinball money and he keeps me off his hit-list." I sighed, getting kind of annoyed at their disbelief to what happened, he isn't a monster, people just treat him like one. 

Julie's jaw hung low, she was about to come up with another excuse to make him sound like a horrible person, but I beat her to it. "Okay, he has his faults, and I can see why people fear him, but you do realize that he is a human too? Who is capable of human reactions and conversations?" I raised my eyebrow, slight sass in my voice, I didn't want to be rude, but they were being very over the top about this. 

"Yeah, it's just no one's ever seen him do that before, this is a once in a blue moon type thing. Anyway, let me get this straight, you bribed him with pinball money and now he's what? Your best friend?" I rolled my eyes with a light smile. "Not in the slightest, he just likes pinball and I pretty much pay him to not kill me, which if you think about it, is almost for free. Now, no more about the subject, he is still rude and snappy, so don't get ahead of yourselves." 

We began striking new conversations after that, giggling and chatting away until our food came. I don't like the fact that they made me out to be special because I had a conversation with a kid my age who knows how and likes to fight. It was just stupid and immature, I'm sure that if they went and tried making small talk, he would give the exact same answers to them as he did me. 

We all left for home after that, our belly's almost full and content. We had to end out little outing my getting some ice-cream on the way back, the small parlor almost inviting us in, it was too tempting.  

I got choc chip cookie dough, the best flavor, obviously. We all collectively shamed Brianna who got vanilla as her chosen favorite, she got all upset and defensive in the end, so we stopped and apologized, repaying her with a bite of each of ours. 

My mom was finally awake when we got home, she had stacked up some scary movies she recommended next to the tv, we began watching the first one in tense silence, just waiting for a jump-scare.  

I had completely forgotten about the previous events, and I was almost happy about it. 

[letmewritefreely]

By Your Side: Part 8

Demetri Stevens had spent the last few years of her life in the skybox for a crime she didn’t commit. One morning she woke up to a huge commotion in her cell block and before she knew it, she was on a dropship. She was sent from the Ark, a space station that had spent the last 97 years in space, down to Earth to see if it is inhabitable with 99 other prisoners. Once on Earth she reconnects with her old best friend, makes new friends, steps on some toes, and helps the 100 survive as they have returned to what was their home once before. With each test and trial; things change, people change, and feelings change. This is a new start for the 100, will Demetri allow it to be a new start for her as well? Or will ghosts of her past keep her stuck, well, in the past?

A The 100 fanfic written by letmewritefreely Bellamy Blake x OC: Demetri Stevens warnings: based off the tv series; gore, mentions or implications of sexual content, angst, fluff, violence, death, gets darker as the series continues.

A/N: It’s been a few years. Sorry about that. Being an adult is pain but, I’m doing so much better than I was when I started this account & started writing this. I plan to get all the parts posted soon. And then continue till the series is finished <33

Anyways feedback, any feedback, is good feedback! Let me know your thoughts! And I’ll bet getting on a semi-regular schedule as I continue to work on the series!  <3 ((S1:E10 & E11))

Parts: Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

She was running. Running through the woods from something but what Demetri didn’t know. All she knew is that she had to run and not stop. She wildly looked around her as she kept moving, leaving the part of the forest she had grown somewhat familiar with and entering completely new territory. Her legs abruptly felt detached like they weren’t her own. She stopped moving her body but it kept moving relative to the outside world. She tried to find something, anything to give her an idea of the time of day or her location. 

Then she saw him. Her dad. He was just standing in the woods watching her pass. Then her mom. She looked just like the picture, her long and wavy blonde hair blowing in some invisible wind. Her piercing green eyes seemed to stare right through Demetri. They stood together, arms looped together loosely with faint smiles. Then there was Clarke and her parents. They waved as Demetri ran past, her chest constricted at seeing Clarke’s dad, Jake, and his wide smile while he had an arm locked around Clarke’s shoulders. Her attention focused forward to see the next human figure before her they faded into the forest. Her eyes locked on Bellamy, he was dressed much like she’d seen him the first day on Earth with his hair brushed back, a crisp button down and utility pants adorning his figure. Except he was standing between Octavia and their mom. Demetri had seen the woman only once, but she was so vivid and real in front of her, she believed she was really there. After the Blakes, she nearly came face-to-face with Marcus and Vera. Demetri couldn’t breathe as she looked at the woman who was practically her grandmother. Vera walked over to her and stepped into the time warp she was stuck in.

“I’ve missed you dear.” Vera’s voice was soft as she stepped closer and cradled Demetri’s face.

“Vera?” Demetri looked her over, “How are you here?” Her hands rested over the older woman’s, “The Ark isn’t scheduled to send more people down yet.”

“I won’t be coming down dear.” Vera’s face remained calm as she spoke. “I’m afraid I will stay up here in space.” The words settled funny.

“Up here?” Demetri’s face scrunched up. “Vera, I’m confused. What do you mean?”

“Why, we’re all dead up here.” Vera’s tone turned ice cold, her hands on Demetri’s face sucked the warmth from her body. “You’re living down on Earth and we’re dead. Floating around out of oxygen. You were sent down to save us and you can’t even do that.” Vera spat, her grip on Demetri’s face tightening enough to trigger Demetri’s fight or flight response.

“Vera, please let go.” Demetri winced as the woman’s hold got tighter still. “It hurts.” She struggled against the abnormal strength of the older woman.

“It hurts?” Vera cackled sarcastically. “Imagine how much it hurt when we all suffocated to death. All because you allowed some boy to steal a radio. A boy that isn’t even worth your time yet is far worthier than you to live.”

“Vera, what are yo--?” Demetri tried to push the woman away from her, aware of the probable nail marks along her jaw and neck. “Vera, if you’re here in front of me then you’re alive.” Demetri argued as she finally stepped away from the woman with her fingers rubbing the spots where Vera’s hands had been.

“But I’m not really here child.” Vera’s head snapped to the right, the loud crack made Demetri jump. “I told you, I’m dead. Up in space. Like everyone else. Because you are weak and you are negligent.”

“No, that’s not-- Ah!” It was like a wall was dropped in front of Demetri, who was still moving as fast as before, slammed into it. Her body crumpled to the ground.

“You’re the reason we’re dead my dear, you failed us. Brought shame to your parents.” Vera’s voice had changed, but the words are what hurt Demetri the most. “You got distracted by an attractive face and forgot about us aboard the Ark, left us to die.”

“I’m keeping people alive down here.” She shook her head. “You up on the Ark sent us down here to die.” She faced Vera. “If anyone has any right to be angry it’s me, one of the 100 who were sent down as an experiment.” Demetri stood up on shaky legs. “We’re trying our best with what we have, you don’t understand that.” Demetri felt defiance swell in her chest, the majority of her life she had had adults speak at her like they knew her. It was one of the reasons she ended up getting into trouble because people felt like they had a say in her life and put labels onto her and no matter how much she fought she always ended up succumbing to those labels one way or another. She had had enough, especially since landing on Earth had allowed her to be more herself than she had ever before.

“You’ve failed us.” Marcus called from behind her. “If we haven’t died yet up here, we will, because of you.” His voice turned sinister as two hands wrapped painfully around her upper arms. “I put so much faith in you Demetri.”

“I died trying to save everyone, and you’ve let them all die.” Jake said from her right as his hands wrapped around Demetri by her throat.

“I put too much trust in a piece of trash like you.” Abby’s voice rang out to Demetri’s left, her eyes barely locking with Abby’s glaring ones. “You’ve spent so much of your life trying to take care of her yet you can’t even protect Clarke, the only one worth saving out of you two.” Her words hurt, but Demetri stood tall.

“You’re all wrong, there’s still time for you.” Demetri managed to get the words out despite Jake’s grip tightening around her throat. “Jake you died trying to warn everyone, they’re doing what they can up there now to get down here. While we’re on the ground doing what we can to stay alive. All of us.” Her lips kept moving but the words stopped.

Demetri couldn’t focus on anything anymore, it was so hard for her to breathe. Jake let go just before she completely passed out and all the hands holding her up instantly disappeared. She fell to the ground again, her hands fisted the damp soil as she steadied herself. When she looked up again everyone she had seen before and more, many from the Ark she’d seen in passing, stood before her with grotesque injuries and dried blood everywhere. Movement to the left caught her eye and when Demetri jerked her head in that direction she was met with such a ghastly sight she almost threw up. Before her, torn to shreds with missing limbs and covered in gashes with weapons sticking from their bodies, stood the remaining members of the 100. Standing at the head of the group was Bellamy and Clarke, both beaten and barely standing. There was a giant gash down Clarke’s face as she stared down at Demetri with such a hatred in her one eye. And Bellamy, he was almost unrecognizable from all the blood covering his body and clothes.

“What -- “ Demetri sputtered crawling towards them a little. “What happened to you?” She froze after a few inches from the smell of decay and blood.

“You’re weak and couldn’t save us.” Bellamy words were gargled from missing half his lower jaw. “And now, we’re all dead.”

“No. We were just sleeping in your tent Bell” Demetri’s head shook as if it were on a spring as tears gathered. “And Clarke we --”

“Your incompetence killed us.” Clarke cut her off, “And now we’ll kill you.”

Clarke raised a handgun in her left hand, Demetri finally noticed that she only had one arm. Then she took three steps to stop right in front of Demetri and pressed the tip of the barrel against her forehead. Demetri blinked rapidly to rid her eyes of the tears but the world before her only got more and more blurry.

“I trusted you. We all trusted you.” Clarke’s voice was so quiet, like she was speaking into Demetri’s ear. “This is your fault.” Demetri heard Clarke pull the hammer back and it clicked into place. She drew in a deep breath, accepting of what was coming. In the next moment came the loud bang that shook Demetri’s entire being. She opened her eyes to see a red haze over everything as her body began to fall over.

Demetri jerked awake just as her body was about to hit the ground in her dream. Her cheeks were damp when she pulled her hands to her face and tried to slow her racing heart.

“It was just a nightmare.” Demetri mumbled to herself.

Her hands slowly rubbed up and down her face, pausing at her forehead. She poked around where she could still feel the cold metal of the tip of the gun and made sure there wasn’t a hole there. Then she felt the rest of her body, patting her feet first then moving up her legs and squeezing at her size and stomach as she continued up her chest, down each arm, and ended with resting her hands on either side of her neck. Demetri leant forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she brought herself back to earth, the vivid imagery of her nightmare flashing before her eyes again. The moment her friends in their varying states of decay came to the forefront of her mind her eyes shot open and she patter her cheeks lightly to try to clear her mind.

“Stay in the present Dem.” Demetri mumbled to herself as she sighed and looked around to see where she was. It took a second for her to remember she had fallen asleep beside Bellamy, she smiled to herself as she laid back and turned on her side to stare at him.

Demetri hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a few hours a night since they landed on Earth. It was a mix of the anxiety of never knowing what was coming and the nightmares that had started to plague her as more and more happened. They were often like the one she had just had, some tragedy that she couldn’t stop and everyone turns on her. She knew she’d only been out for a few hours when she woke up and her body was still sore and her eyes hurt. She focused on Bellamy still passed out beside her in hopes it would chase away the nightmares and his soft, even breaths almost coaxed her back to dreamland. But she remained awake, wanting to burn this moment into her memory for the rest of her days, however long or short.

Demetri had never seen Bellamy in such a peaceful state, she thought maybe he’d been like this when he was younger and he was surrounded by his family. But since she had known him, a month or two now, she’d only seen emotions like anxiety, fear, anger, determination, worry on his face. Now, with him asleep and the lines associated with those emotions nowhere to be seen he looked much younger, more his age. Her fingers traced up his cheekbones, down the slope of his nose, around the curve of his cupids bow. She counted his freckles and lashes with how close she was to him. She relaxed back against his side, in his sleepy haze he pulled her closer and held her to him. Demetri could have laid there and watched Bellamy forever, but the Universe proved it was never really on their side.

“Demi? Bellamy? Are you guys up?” Clarke’s voice called just outside the tent.

“I am, give me a second.” Demetri answered quietly.

She untangled herself from Bellamy’s still sleeping form and quickly threw her clothes on. As she was lacing up her boots, Demetri tried to push her nightmare to the back of her mind. Seeing the two most important people to her so clearly hurt and practically dead before her had really left her mind in a bit of a mess. She didn’t want to leave Bellamy in that moment, but she also needed to see Clarke. Just to reassure her subconscious that both of them were okay and that they were going to be fine. Demetri swore to herself in that moment that no matter what happened, she’d protect those she cared about and that meant all of the 100. With a final deep breath she stood and gazed down at Bellamy one last time before slipping out of the tent as quietly as she could.

After she unlatched the flap and stepped out of Bellamy’s tent, still getting her (his) jacket on, Clarke sent her a funny look. Demetri straightened herself out before she tugged her friend away from the tent a bit. The warmth from Clarke’s hand in Demetri’s eased her heart a bit and she subconsciously squeezed Clarke’s hand before letting it go. Demetri noted that the sky was still dark meaning she definitely hadn’t slept very long.

“Before you say anything, no, nothing happened.” Demetri stopped whatever thoughts were running through Clarke’s head. “We just talked some and fell asleep.”

“Is that what caused that entire braid to fall out.” Clarke motioned to Demetri’s left braid, which had in fact completely fallen out. Demetri didn’t even think about how she would look after having a nightmare like that, of course she’d look like a mess.

“I’ve haven’t redone them in a while, it was just a matter of time.” Demetri waved it off as she calmly removed her band and ran her fingers through what was left of the braid to try and untangle it. “I’ve been wanting to change it up anyway.” Demetri then did the same with the other braid and as she finger brushed her hair out she turned to Clarke. “Sun’s not up yet, so what’s up? That anxious to go to the crash site?” She quickly turned the attention onto Clarke before she could say anything else.

“No, I mean yeah I am but it’s not that.” Clarke watched Demetri tie her hair back into a low ponytail before she nodded at Clarke to continue. “I wanted to check on you, last night with Finn; I’ve never seen you lose it like that.”

“I admit, I lost it.” Demetri nodded as she looked away from Clarke and leant back against a wooden stand. “And I know you have feelings for him, but what that was yesterday was stupid and reckless. If you hadn’t asked me and Bellamy to follow you, you all could have died.” Demetri looked up at the night sky admiring the stars.

“You’re sure you saw grounders in the trees? Ready to shoot?” Clarke asked, needing that confirmation.

“I checked myself before Jasper jumped into action.” Demetri locked eyes with Clarke for a moment before looking back at the stars. “Sure, he should have waited a bit longer, but him stepping out and saving your life was brave. I didn’t see all of them, but the few I saw were all pointing at different people and you’ve seen their accuracy first hand Clarke.”

“I know Demi.” Clarke nodded. “Did you mean what you said?” She asked quietly.

“Which part?” Demetri cocked her head towards Clarke, “Because I meant every word I spat at Finn earlier.”

“The part of about you killing him?” Clarke couldn’t look at Demetri.

“Clarke, if you had gotten killed up there, Finn would have never made it back to camp.” Demetri’s voice was cold, so much so a shiver ran through Clarke’s body; the nightmare bringing a new sense of protectiveness forward in Demetri. “It sounds harsh, and maybe Raven would have fought me after the fact, but he’s not using his head. If you guys up on that bridge got shot down, it would have caused a ripple effect. A war would have started between me losing you and Bellamy losing Octavia. We might still have a chance at peace, at finding a middle ground. But Finn doesn’t get to make any calls. He’s already shown his true colors, blindly putting faith somewhere he shouldn’t.” Clarke just nodded. “Thank you for telling us, but please don’t run off like that again without a plan.” Demetri paused and turned towards Clarke with her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders. “I was terrified on the riverbank.”

“I won’t.” Clarke hugged Demetri tightly. “Should we get everyone up now?”

“Yea,” Demetri sighed as she looked up to see the sun starting to rise over the horizon. “Let’s get going soon, I’ll get Bellamy.”

“Of course, I won’t be waking Bellamy up.” Clarke teased, earning a jab from Demetri.

---

Within the next hour those going on the expedition to check the Exodus crash were up and ready to go. They set off in the direction they saw it crash in with weapons, supplies, and anything that could help any survivors. There was a solemn atmosphere around Clarke as she walked beside Demetri. She had nothing but her backpack and a hope that her mother either survived or wasn’t on the Exodus ship at all. Demetri talked quietly with her the whole way, trying to keep her spirits up while still preparing her for the worst. Demetri continued to remind her that she didn’t know if Abby was even on the ship since they hadn’t talked to the Ark yet. If anyone paid enough attention to Demetri they’d see she was off a little, Bellamy noticed of course but he didn’t ask, even though she hid it quite well.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they made it to the outskirts of the crash site. As they got closer they saw the surrounding vegetation charred black from the explosion. There were pieces of the wreckage everywhere with small fires still burning scattered around. Everyone stepped lightly, listening for calls for help even though they doubted there would be any. The charred, skeletal remains enforced that thought. Demetri walked along with Clarke, staying by her side as both protection and support as she held a rifle in her hands. Demetri kept a watchful eye on everything around them, both looking for anything to answer their questions and for possible Grounders. She would lock  eyes with Bellamy whenever they passed him and he’d always offer a small nod, it was enough to keep her in the here and now. Demetri could hear Finn and Raven in the distance talking about Clarke who was in her own world.

“She shouldn’t be here.” Finn was focused on Clarke as she slowly walked around examining everything.

“Her mom was supposed to be on the ship.” Raven said as if it explained everything. “She’s looking for answers, you want to help her, find me the black box.” Raven paused her search of the pile of rubble before her. “Or hard drives, anything that will tell me why this ship crashed.” She continued her search, careful of everything.

“Stay sharp, retaliation for the bridge will happen it’s just a matter of when.” Bellamy’s voice rang through the space around them.

“Do you blame them?” Finn barked, spinning to face Bellamy.

“No,” Bellamy didn’t miss a beat, he stole a glance at Demetri before zeroing in on Finn a few feet away. “I blame you.”

“If you hadn’t brought guns--” Finn started, finger jabbing the air between him and Bellamy.

“If we didn’t bring guns, we’d all be dead right now.” Raven cut Finn off with a huff as she stopped searching again to speak directly to him.

“Why they’re coming doesn’t matter anymore.” Finn’s shocked gaze flitted to Bellamy, “It’s our job to be ready when they do. We’re on our own now.”

“Clarke?” Demetri squeaked when a smell that was so strong it almost knocked Clarke on her butt, then hit Demetri moments later. “What’s that?”

“Clarke! Demetri!” Raven yelled before heading over to them. “Get back!”

“Rocket fuel?” Clarke asked, covering her nose and glancing at Demetri as she coughed.

“Hydrazine. It’s highly flammable when not solid. If it meets fire, we’re all done for.”

Raven dipped a rock the size of an acorn into the pink liquid oozing from a small opening in the side of the ship. Hardly any of the fuel was on the rock before she yelled a warning and tossed it into a still burning fire. The explosion did not match the fuel and the ground trembled around them.

“Holy shit.” Demetri sighed, staring between the fire and the leaking pink liquid.

“We need to clear the area.” Raven turned from the pair beside her and back towards Bellamy.

“Okay, then.” Bellamy turned towards everyone else. “Move in formation, no stragglers, weapons at the ready. We need to get back before dark.”

Everyone moved as one to form a group and start back the way they had come. Clarke started to walk back, a deep sigh rattled her bones. Demetri fell in step beside her and nudged her best friend. Clarke gave her the tiniest, fake smile she could muster knowing Demetri would see through it. Demetri gave her a tiny smile in return and remained at her side. They had learned nothing from this little expedition except there was a lot of dangerous rocket fuel just waiting to explode and no one survived the crash. The weight of the situation sat heavily on both Clarke’s and Demetri’s shoulders, this left so many questions unanswered and created more questions. Why did the Exodus ship launch early? Why did it crash? Who was on it? Why couldn’t they get in contact with the Ark? Were they really on their own now? It all seemed surreal to Demetri. One minute they were planning the days for each drop ship to come down and the camp was buzzing with excitement then the next the Ark goes dark and the first drop ship since the 100 crashed to Earth. It made Demetri feel like they were never going to catch a break. Deep in her head, Demetri came back to notice they were coming up on a ridge that had taken them an hour to find a way across that morning. Thankfully, they knew where to go and it only took thirty minutes. They had made it pretty far without running into anyone or anything and it made the tension in the group die down.

Demetri had decided to walk a bit away from the group as they went since it seemed they were fine. She started to look around more as they went as she still really enjoyed taking in the scenery. She kept part of her attention on the group as they moved in a pretty straight line back to camp and hung towards the back of the group. Demetri could hear Clarke and Bellamy talking plans of action incase the Grounders attacked as she slowed her pace a bit. She was just enough off the trail and just busy enough looking up and around to miss the sudden decline. Demetri tumbled down the small hill, the rifle disappearing amongst the leaves as she rolled. Her yelp caught a few members of the group’s attention and they only jumped towards the sound with their own rifles raised. By the time she stopped at the bottom of the hill a loud metal clunk sounded and a piercing pain pulsed around her shoulder. Demetri struggled to turn her head around to see she where she had fallen. It looked like a bear trap she’d read about in her Earth science books.

“Bellamy? Clarke?” She gasped, suddenly feeling really stupid for wandering from the group, the fear of dying like this consumed her.

“Demetri?” Clarke yelled. “Where are you?” Panic overwhelmed her when she noticed the older girl was no where to be seen.

“Here! Down here!” Demetri cried out, she had landed on her stomach with her right shoulder in the center of the trap. There was no way she could ever get out of this trap herself. If she had been alone she would have died here.

“Oh my god!” Clarke ran down the hill, holding onto the trees as she went before she landed ungracefully next to Demetri. “What happened?”

“Fell into a trap.” Demetri gasped, biting back a sarcastic reply and swallowing a groan.

“Right, let’s get you out of here first.” At the moment, Clarke didn’t know what to do. She felt helpless. “Finn! Bellamy!”

The two guys bolted to the top of the hill and looked down to see Clarke trying to keep Demetri calm with a metal contraption digging into her shoulder. Bellamy moved first, he threw his gun over his shoulder and much like Clarke, ungracefully flew down the hill. Finn followed a few steps behind and landed across from Clarke just beside the trap. His attention was on the contraption as he stared placing it to his knowledge of trapping and tracking. Finn took only a few seconds take in the full scene. The teeth of the trap dug into her skin about half way up her collarbone, the metal just missing the actual bone. The semi-circle encompassed her entire shoulder and part of her upper arm. He didn’t know much about treating the wound but he knew Demetri would feel much better once she was out of the trap. Finn sighed before he leant over the trap and Demetri to inspect it closer.

“It’s an old bear trap.” Finn carefully moved it around, highly aware of the pained whines coming from Demetri. “There should be a catch that releases it. Bellamy and I can pulled it away from her, this will hurt.” He said the last part directly to Demetri who barely nodded as Clarke turned her onto her side enough for the entire trap to face Finn. All Demetri could do was hiss as the metal dug deeper into her skin.

“I’ll pull her away from of it.” Clarke mumbled as she grabbed ahold of Demetri around her waist, ready to haul her best friend away.

“Found it,” Finn said after a few seconds of feeling around the metal parts, “get ready Bellamy.” Finn looked up at Bellamy’s worried face. “Now.”

Finn pressed on the release and they heard a quiet wheeze from the contraption. The guys grabbed a side of the trap each, their fingers barely fitting in the gaps of the metal teeth, and they pulled. The trap was so rusted and aged it was a miracle that it even went off when Demetri fell on it, yet it barely gave as Finn and Bellamy broke a sweat from the effort. Finally the teeth started to budge from Demetri’s shoulder, blood seeped out of the various wounds left in their wake on her body. As soon as Clarke saw she was clear, she tugged Demetri away with all her might. Demetri clenched her jaw and kept as quiet as she could as she was dragged about five feet away. The pain had subsided a bit after the teeth of the trap were no longer digging into her skin but it still hurt a lot. Physically, this moment had to be the most painful for Demetri as her left hand tried to apply pressure to the wound out of reflex and just the movement of her own body made her whimper. Her entire body went limp in response to the wave of pain with her head was resting on Clarke’s stomach. Demetri just managed to turn her head in time to see Bellamy and Finn let go at the same time and the trap snapped shut with a metallic clunk, her blood covering the teeth.

There was a few moments of just heavy breathing before Clarke’s worry came back full force. She sat Demetri up, much to Demetri’s dismay, and carefully but quickly pulled her jacket off her right side. The wounds would be easy enough to treat, Clarke told herself, noticing how obvious it was that Demetri was in a lot of pain. As if her pale face, shaking body, and sweat covered forehead wasn’t a dead giveaway to that.

“They’re not deep, uhm, I can cauterize the wounds when we get back. But we don’t know what was on the trap. We need to get her back to camp and we need some of that seaweed.” Clarke took a few breaths, “I need something to stop the bleeding for now.”

Bellamy didn’t hesitate to start tearing the bottom of his shirt into strips so Clarke could wrap it tightly around Demetri’s shoulder to stop the bleeding. Once it was done to the best of Clarke’s abilities with what she had, she nodded to the rest of the group. Bellamy zipped his jacket up and hauled Demetri up onto his back.

“Bell, I can walk.” Demetri joked as she winced from the jarring action.

“We’ll move faster this way. We need to get you back to camp.” His tone left no room for an argument.

So Demetri didn’t argue. Finn grabbed the trap on his way back up the hill and followed behind the group as they continued to camp. Clarke had found Demetri’s gun when she headed back towards the group and they had switched places from when they had left, Clarke was beside Demetri watching like a hawk. If there would only ever be one thing Clarke and Bellamy would always agree on, it was Demetri. She was hurt and they were both internally freaking out over it.

---

As they came up on the camp Miller was just outside the doors waiting, his face was set in a deep frown. Bellamy let Demetri carefully slide down his back and stand beside him. In the time it took for them to get back to camp the pain had dissipated enough for Demetri to be able to think and breathe easily. She was also able to move on her own as long as she didn’t move her right arm too much. Even the slightest twitch sent a shock through her body. The rest of the group minus the two couples entered the camp.

“What is it Miller?” Bellamy’s arm stayed around Demetri’s waist to keep her standing.

“Murphy’s back.” Miller didn’t look away from Bellamy as more than just those two words were said.

Demetri felt a weird sense of relief flood her at Miller’s words, John was live. That was good news to her but she was curious why he had come back seeing as Bellamy made it very clear about him never returning. The after thought triggered the worry and Demetri straightened her spine as she tightened her grip on Bellamy’s waist.

“Where?” Bellamy’s face hardened.

“Dropship.”

Bellamy took off, barely registering that Demetri was clinging onto him and struggling to keep up. He halted and turned to her with worried eyes.

“You should go with Clarke and let her take care your shoulder.”

“After we deal with Murphy.” Demetri shook her head, pushed herself out of Bellamy’s arms and hiding a wince.

“You’re hurt.” Bellamy stated realizing afterwards how obvious that was.

“And you need me there to deal with him.” Demetri swallowed her sharp intake of breath and looked right at Bellamy. “Let’s go.” Demetri walked towards the dropship alone, telling herself they’d settle this and she’d rest. She wouldn’t let Clarke and Bellamy deal with Murphy alone, she was the tie breaker after all.

Clarke ran up to her side, scolding her but also supporting her as they kept going. Bellamy sighed before he moved to lead the way, his face quickly hardening as they got closer to the dropship. Finn followed on the girls’ heels because he was worried about the same thing Demetri was. 

“Where is he?” Bellamy barked as he threw the tarp leading into the dropship to the side.

He stormed in first, the girls and Finn only a few steps behind. They all stopped just a few feet into the drop ship, a small crowd standing around the main area. They saw Murphy, bloodied and beaten, curled in on himself leaning the back wall of the dropship. He was dirty, covered in dried mud and grimy, he looked thinner and frailer. Demetri struggled to swallow down the guilt she felt rising in her chest. She had suggested to banish John, she did this. He seemed to be in worse shape than she was and that alone made her want Clarke to check on him and make sure he was okay.

“Everyone but Joseph and Connor out.” Bellamy commanded. The dropship emptied quickly just from the tone of Bellamy’s voice, no one was curious enough to defy him.

“He says he was with the grounders.” Connor broke the silence, the barrel of his gun resting right beside Murphy’s head in a threatening but non-threatening way.

“We caught him trying to sneak back into camp.” Joseph finished the thought, all his attention was on John Murphy.

“I was running from the grounders, not sneaking in.” Murphy coughed and kept his eyes on the floor.

“See any grounders?” Bellamy asked the guards beside Murphy with his hand resting on the handgun he’d always had on him.

“No.” They chorused looking way too pleased for Demetri to feel comfortable.

“Well in that case --” Bellamy started raised his gun towards Murphy, Demetri who had been clinging to Clarke, tried to stumble towards Bellamy with her left arm outstretched.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Finn shoved the nose of the gun down, moving to stand in between Bellamy and Murphy.

“We were clear about what would happen if he came back.” Bellamy looked past Finn and stared right at Murphy’s cowering figure.

“Bellamy, stop.” Demetri flinched as she grabbed his arm and tugged him back a bit.

“If he was with the grounders than he knows things, things that can help us.” Finn reasoned, practically begging Demetri to get Bellamy to stand down with his eyes. 

“Help us?” Bellamy choked back a laugh of disbelief. “We hung him, banished him, and now we’re gonna kill him.” Bellamy raised his gun again, “Get out of my way.” Demetri’s grip slipped from his arm and she moved to stand in front of him but Bellamy’s other arm held her back.

“No, Finn’s right.” Clarke rushed out as she looked at Murphy’s hands.

“Like hell he is.”  Bellamy’s voice thickened. “Clarke think about Charlotte.” His arm fell to his side as he focused his disappointed look at Clarke, everyone was against him at the moment.

“I am, Bellamy. But what happened to her is as much our fault as it is his.” Clarke turned her head towards him, sparing him a moment, before she focused back on Murphy.

“Bell, calm down.” Demetri tugged on his arm, pulling his attention away from Murphy and to her. “We don’t have to kill him, he’s still one of ours.” Demetri needed Bellamy to stand down, it was the only way she could even begin to make up for being the catalyst for this chain of events.

“Dem, he’s--” Bellamy was focused on Demetri as he tried to read her expression as her hands weakly wrapped around his forearm, begging him to listen to her.

“He’s not lying, his fingernails were torn off.” Clarke carefully looked at Murphy’s hands and the wounds on his face. “They tortured him.”

“You should compare notes.” Finn sneered at Bellamy, which earned him a glare from Demetri.

“They know we’re at war, what did you tell them Murphy?” Demetri asked changing tactics and wobbling towards Murphy. She stopped just beside Clarke and knelt before him, already doing a quick assessment of his condition.

“Everything.” Murphy swallowed thickly, eyes darting between those in the room.

“We see what he knows after he’s better then he’s gone.” Clarke stood and moved towards the exit of the dropship. She glanced at Demetri, who was still on one knee before Murphy, as she stopped just beside Bellamy.

“And if he refuses to leave?” Bellamy turned from Murphy to Clarke. “What do we do then?”

“Then we kill him.” She looked at Murphy before answering, there was a strange resolve in her eyes on full display, then she was gone.

“We’re not killing him.” Demetri said by Murphy’s side the guilt eating away at her.

“Demetri, we’re not letting him stay.” Bellamy asserted. Demetri locked eyes with Murphy and the raw fear she saw in them stole her breath.

“That’s fine, but there’s been too much death, we’re not adding John’s name to the list.” She stood and Bellamy moved to help her instantly. “If he doesn’t want to leave we can take him to one of the bunkers, let him fend for himself there. But we are not killing him.” Demetri looked up into Bellamy’s eyes, trying to share with him how she felt in that moment without words, and as his eyes searched hers she hoped he understood her.

“Ok, ok, fine. Let’s just get Clarke to look at your shoulder, okay?” Bellamy placated already turning towards Joseph and Conner. “Get him laid down somewhere, he needs to rest if he’s going to get better.”

---

The next hour was arguably the worst hour of Demetri’s life, at least since they had landed on Earth. There were twenty four individual cuts in her shoulder from the teeth of the bear trap, twelve for each side. Clarke ended up using a knife similar to the one she used when Jasper was hurt to cauterize each cut. Demetri honestly thought she was going to pass out half way through but somehow, maybe it was thanks to Octavia holding her hand so tightly, she stayed conscious. Demetri barely kept herself together as Clarke finally sealed the last cut and Octavia started wiping away the river of tears falling from Demetri’s eyes. The older girl heaved a huge sigh of relief once Clarke announced she was done. Demetri then watched Clarke use some of the seaweed to make a paste and rub it lightly onto the fresh burns on her shoulder. The sensation, though a little painful at first, ended up soothing away a lot of the remaining pain.

Soon after that Clarke had finished cleaning the wounds and had wrapped Demetri’s shoulder. Then she was left to wander around the camp a bit, prohibited from doing any strenuous labor, so really anything. Now that the wounds were taken care of properly they didn’t hurt as much, she just had almost zero movement. That was the real inconvenience.

Demetri had just managed to get herself sat down amongst the others by the fire when Joseph, one of the two that brought Murphy in, started yelling for Clarke. Demetri watched in horror as he coughed up blood and trails of blood trickled from his nose and his ears. Clarke came running out of the radio tent moments later and she had remnants of blood running from her eyes. Demetri jumped up and rushed to Clarke, only for Clarke to push her away as she gasped for air.

“Get away from us.” Connor, the other guy who brought Murphy in, who was sitting by the fire where Demetri had just been sitting puked up blood next. Clarke shared a look with Demetri. “They’re the ones who brought Murphy in.”

Clarke ran to the dropship with Demetri in tow. They found Murphy holding his stomach as he puked up blood, like the others. He couldn’t have looked more scared and beaten down than he did in that moment. The fresh blood mixed with the dried blood and he looked like he shouldn’t be breathing right now.

“Murphy, how did you escape? I need you to tell me.” Clarke knelt beside him, she was dealing with a bout of shortness of breath and was having trouble speaking well.

“I don’t know. I woke up.” Murphy gasped, “They forgot to lock my cage so I ran for it.” He started dry heaving, choking.

“They let you go.” Clarke mumbled.

“Here.” Demetri dropped to her knees and wiped at Murphy’s face. She tried to help him but she didn’t know what to do. All she could really think about was that she had done this to him, she had suggested banishing him and now this. Now he had come back to them to die.

“Demi!” Clarke turned to her fearful before turning to Bellamy who entered the dropship at that moment. “Bellamy, stay back.” Clarke was gasping as she spoke now.

“What the hell is this?” Bellamy looked between Murphy and Clarke.

“Biological warfare.” Clarke looked up at Bellamy. “You were waiting for retaliation? This is it. Murphy’s the weapon.”

Demetri watched Bellamy change, like a switch flipped. His worry became rage so quickly it could have given everyone whiplash. He stepped forward before Clarke threw her a look and he stopped.

“Is this your revenge on us? Helping the grounders kill us?”

“I didn’t know, I swear.” Murphy coughed, choking on another mouthful of blood. Clarke started to treat his wounds as Bellamy paced the dropship.

“Stop lying.” Bellamy bellowed.

“Bellamy, calm down.” Demetri sighed, “If he had known he wouldn’t have come back here, he’s not that type of person.” Bellamy only looked at Demetri for a moment as she helped Clarke take care of Murphy, he saw something flash across her eyes he didn’t recognize.

“When are they attacking?” Bellamy changed topics.

“Think Murphy.” Demetri encouraged. “Is there anything you can remember that will be useful?”

“They’re cruel, vicious.” Murphy managed, staring right at Bellamy.

“You wanna see cruel? Vicious?” Bellamy snarled, advancing towards him.

“Bellamy, stop. Whatever this is, it spreads through contact.” Clarke held her hand out to stop him. Clarke had barely glanced at Demetri when the damp cloth in her hand slapped against the floor.

Bellamy froze, so did Demetri. He watched Demetri turn to look at Clarke and watched it connect in her head that she was already exposed to whatever this was. And anyone Demetri had come in contact since they talked to Murphy the first time had been exposed to it too. Demetri swallowed down her panic and steeled her nerves before she picked up the wet cloth and started dabbing on the cut above Murphy’s eye again.

“It’s some kind of hemorrhagic fever.” Clarke explained, taking deep breaths as she went.

She was about to speak again when Finn barrelled in. Clarke’s eye twitched at seeing Finn look so worried for her. Demetri only spared the boy a look before focusing back on Murphy, who had been watching her now.

“I heard you were sick, how are you?” Finn froze when he saw the smears of blood on her cheeks.

“Those of you who haven’t come in contact with those exposed need to get out. If we keep it contained--” Clarke was cut off by Connor convulsing from where he laid on the floor.

His body shook as he coughed and choked, until he threw up a large pool of blood, much larger than the others. He rolled around onto his stomach and shook a bit more before he took one large, final breath before his just stopped. Clarke had moved as soon as he did, dodging Finn’s outstretched hands, and went to check for a pulse. It was quiet in the dropship as everyone waited with bated breath for what Clarke would say, even though they already knew the answer.

“Is he--” Demetri couldn’t finish her question, Murphy had curled in on himself just beside her.

“He’s dead.” Clarke confirmed, a worried look passing between everyone in the dropship.

“We need to quarantine everyone who had direct contact with Murphy. Get them in here.” Clarke watched Finn run off to start gathering people.

“Joseph, who brought Murphy in last night? Think.” Everyone watched Joseph process the question.

“The first one to get to him was” He gasped, fearful eyes darting to Bellamy. “Octavia.”

Bellamy was gone the moment her name was spoken. Clarke turned to Demetri and crawled over to her. Clarke’s movements were slow, but still calculated, she tried to not move unnecessarily to conserve energy.

“Hold still, I need to examine you.” Clarke checked Demetri’s throat and poked around her neck and face before she sighed. “No signs of swelling or bleeding, you don’t have any symptoms.”

“Great, I can help.” Demetri stood and started to move things around to the best of her ability to make space for the incoming sick.

“Just because you don’t have symptoms that doesn’t mean it you can’t start showing them later.”

“If they come, then I’ll cross that bridge then.” Demetri helped a girl who was definitely showing symptoms into the dropship as she spoke and stayed mindful of her shoulder, which still hurt.

Clarke was about to say something when Bellamy stormed back in with a worried Octavia behind him. There was palpable tension from the siblings as they walked up to Clarke, with Bellamy staying back far enough to avoid contact and he had gotten a piece of cloth to cover his nose and mouth. Clarke looked her over the same way she looked Demetri over and ended up with the same outcome.

“Like Demi, no symptoms. We need to keep Octavia here just in case, since she was the first one to come in contact with Murphy, she could be a carrier.” Clarke turned off the light she had used and turned towards Bellamy.

“She’ll get sick just by being here, both of them will.” Bellamy looked at Demetri who was a few feet away handing out cloth to those needing them to wipe their bloodied faces.

“I’ll keep Octavia on the third level, with others who haven’t shown symptoms. Think of it as a way to keep her in camp.” Clarke spared a glance at Octavia.

“Screw you Clarke.” Octavia rolled her eyes.

“If something changes, I’ll let you know.”

“Fine. What about Demetri?” Bellamy’s eyes shifted to her for a moment before she stood.

“Demetri is going to stay here and help take care of those who are sick, while you get out of here Bellamy.” Demetri informed him, using her foot to kick him lightly towards the door. He sighed, again getting a dreadful feeling seeing the three of them together like this.

“I’ll check in later.” Bellamy left them in the dropship, a worried look on his face.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking Clarke?” Demetri looked at her best friend.

“Probably.” She turned to Octavia. “I need you to sneak out again.”

“And I’m going with you.” Demetri stepped forward.

“Alright, we’ll be back later.” Octavia nodded after a moment understanding what this meant.

---

Demetri stayed a step behind Octavia, her left hand holding onto her right shoulder to try to ease the pain. They had snuck out of camp and were moving quietly further away from their home. They were just around the area that they rescued Octavia from before when she stopped Demetri.

“Why did you want to come?” Octavia turned to Demetri. “You’re not going to go crazy on him like Bellamy did are you?”

“No, I want to talk to him.” Demetri glanced at Octavia before wincing. “We’re facing a war Octavia, with a people who will probably slaughter most of us. I believe we can trust Lincoln.”

“I’m glad someone sees reason here.” Octavia mused, before she lead Demetri into the secret passage that lead into Lincoln’s hideout.

Octavia ran into the cave without stopping, right up to Lincoln who was waiting for her. He immediately began checking her ears and looking around her face. He sighed when he seemed happy with his findings.

“You knew?” Octavia whispered, eyes widening.

“I tried to get you out.” His focus was solely on her. “Didn’t you see the flower?”

“I saw it.” Octavia took a breath, “Before I found one of our own that your people sent to infect us.”

Demetri tried to step down quietly, without disturbing their moment but misstepped and rammed her shoulder into the wall. She had no idea something could hurt that bad, at this point she wondered if death would hurt this much too.

“Ah!” She gasped, the pain surging through her body.

Lincoln jumped, pushing Octavia behind him as he pulled out a knife, no doubt doused in poison. He lowered it moments later when he recognized the girl before him, the only other person from the people from the sky he had even considered trusting.

“She’s with me.” Octavia stepped out from behind him and rushed to help Demetri up.

There was blood pooling under her bandages but Demetri stood straight up and faced Lincoln head on. She took a step forward but stumbled a bit. Octavia held onto her.

“We’ve haven’t officially met, I’m--”

“Demetri, Octavia talks highly of you.” Lincoln nodded. “Here, sit down.”

“That’s good to know, sometimes I think Octavia hates me.” Demetri sent Octavia a fond look. “Thank you Lincoln.”

“You’re here about the sickness right?”

“That, but I also want to apologize again and thank you. What happened in the dropship, it shouldn’t have--.” Lincoln held up his hand. “I understand. I wanted to thank you because I saw you take that arrow for Octavia, I know you care about her. I also know that you know a war is coming our way. I’m not going to ask for you to fight with us, because you have no reason for that. But if it comes to it, can I trust you to get Octavia out of the line of fire and somewhere safe?” Demetri looked right at Lincoln.

“Demetri, I--” Octavia tried to interrupt.

“If your brother were a bit more trusting he’d consider asking the same thing.” Demetri stopped the younger girl and focused on the man before her. “Your people know the land, they’ve been surviving here on Earth the whole time our people been up in space. Unless we come up with some master plan we could all die. If it comes to it, can you promise me you’ll get Octavia out of here?” Lincoln nodded. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I promise you, Demetri.” Lincoln nodded again.

Demetri sighed as she slouched a bit in the seat Lincoln had gotten for her. A weight she didn’t know she had on her chest gone.

“Onto less serious matters, can you tell us about the disease, is there a cure?”

“No, there’s no cure.” Lincoln shook his head, looking away from the girls before him.

“You were gonna let my people die?” Octavia’s voice was loud in the small space, “Let me die?”

“It passes quickly, few are usually immune. We use it to soften the battlefield.” Lincoln moved to Octavia, cupping her face. “I am not surprised you are one of the strong ones.” Then he turned to Demetri, “You either.”

“Battlefield?” Lincoln’s hand dropped from Octavia’s face at her question.

“They will attack at first light.” His voice was quiet, he looked away from the girls.

“She might not ask you to help us, but I will, Lincoln, you have to help us.” Octavia pleaded.

Demetri watched them go back and forth, a sinking feeling in her chest. Lincoln wanted to take Octavia and go East, get away from it all. Demetri thought it wasn’t a bad idea.

“I can’t leave my brother to die, I can’t leave Demetri, my people.” Octavia got a little frantic, “There must be something we can do!”

“There’s nothing, not now. Even the mountain men are angry.” Lincoln shook his head.

“We warn them.” Demetri spoke, rising to her feet, making a mental note to ask about the mountain men if they live. “Octavia can come back here afterwards.”

“Demetri--”

“If you’re safe, your brother will be able to think clearer. I told you I trust Lincoln.”

“Okay, alright.” Octavia nodded after a minute. “Wait for me here, I’ll come to you.”

“Lincoln, please protect her.” Demetri pleaded.

“I will.” Lincoln nodded, he helped Demetri to her feet.

Lincoln held his arm out to Demetri, she moved to shake his hand but his hand grasped her forearm, she grabbed his and he squeezed her arm gently. They both nodded, understanding what they needed to do. Demetri turned towards the doorway they came in when Lincoln turned to Octavia and kissed her. Octavia pulled away and grabbed Demetri’s good hand and tugged her away. A new sense of urgency in their steps as they jogged through the now familiar woods.

---

They were just outside the wall when gunshots boomed in camp. The pair squeezed through the hole just behind the dropship and popped out beside it in time to see the panicked faces of the 100 looking at Clarke. She was standing at the edge of the dropship door with a rifle pointed to the sky.

“They won’t have to kill us if we all catch the virus, get back in the damn dropship.” A hothead with a gun to the right yelled at Clarke with his gun raised.

Bellamy ripped the gun from the guy’s hands and elbowed him in the mouth, which caused the guy to fall to his knees and stumble back. Demetri looked away from Bellamy and the guy in time to see Clarke falling backwards. Finn rushed forward and caught her just before she hit the ground. Demetri ran up and looked over Clarke, she looked worse than when they had left earlier. Lincoln was right, it traveled fast because they hadn’t been gone very long at all. Demetri felt calmer knowing it wasn’t meant to kill them, just weaken them.

“I’m fine, put me down.” Clarke held onto Demetri for support.

“No you’re not.” Finn argued.

“Octavia and Demetri will come back with a cure.” Clarke didn’t noticed that Demetri was right beside her and that worried Demetri a lot.

“There is no cure.” Octavia came out from behind the dropship. “They don’t use the illness to kill.”

“Tell that to them.” Bellamy pointed to the two dead bodies just outside the dropship.

“Bellamy, listen to her.” Demetri called to him. “What she has to say is important.”

“The grounders are coming and they’re attacking at first light. If there’s anything left to prepare, we need to do it now.” The camp fell into a slight panic as everyone started to get ready for whatever was coming.

Octavia moved towards Finn and Clarke, as Demetri told him to get Clarke inside. Octavia shoved Bellamy’s hand off her arm as he reached out for her, he sighed but turned to Demetri. Demetri took a few steps towards Bellamy, just close enough for their conversation to still be kind of private.

“You focus on a battle plan, I’ll take care of everyone who’s sick. Lincoln said that there are always some that are immune, if there are people who have been exposed and aren’t sick yet they’re probably apart of that few.”

“What about you and Octavia?”

“He said if we aren’t sick yet, we won’t be.” Demetri answered confidently.

“Why did you go with her?” Bellamy asked quietly.

“Because you wouldn’t have let her go alone.” Demetri teased, “And I wanted to talk to him. I trust him Bellamy.” Bellamy could only nod. “I’ll explain after this passes and we see the day after tomorrow.”

Bellamy was amazed Demetri could be so positive at a time like this, but he figured that’s why he was so drawn to her. He watched her jog into the dropship to take over while Clarke was sick and he began planning. He instantly started calling out orders and directing the flow of movement so that the time they had to prepare was used wisely.

---

Murphy was helping Finn get Clarke into a hammock when Demetri entered the dropship. Murphy had moved to a pull out seat on the far wall, as everyone gathered around Clarke.

“He said it passes quickly.” Demetri broke the silence, as everyone fretted over Clarke.

“It’s true, I feel better.” Murphy confirmed.

“They need to stay hydrated.” Clarke tried to sit up.

“You need to take your own advice.” Demetri said, pushing her back down.

Octavia brought her a cup of water and after Clarke finished it she tried to move again before Finn pushed her back into the hammock this time.

“You need to rest Clarke, we’ll take care of them.” Demetri moved to get some water to pass out.

“I’ll help.” Octavia nodded, passing out cloth and checking on everyone who was asleep.

“I will too.” Murphy stood and started taking the cups of water from Demetri and giving everyone some.

Clarke and Finn talked quietly until Clarke fell asleep. Demetri knew she told them to get away from camp, to leave her and the sick there. If she thought Finn would listen she was out of her mind, and if she thought Demetri would leave her she didn’t know her best friend that well.

“At this rate, there will be no one to fight back.” Murphy said as he handed Demetri a cup to refill.

“That’s the point.” Demetri told him, handing him the now full cup back.

“Then we slow them down.” Finn left Demetri, Octavia, and Murphy to care for the sick as he ran off, no doubt with a crazy idea. Demetri just hoped he thought it through a little more this time.

Bellamy stopped by the dropship about an hour later on to say that they were going back to the Exodus crash to get as much of the Hydrazine as they could to build a bomb. He said Finn had come up with the idea to blow up the bridge to slow down the grounders and Raven had figured out how to do it. Demetri told him to be careful before sending them off. She stood at the entrance of the dropship and watched them run off into the cool evening air as the sun started the set. She prayed to any of the gods she had heard about while on the Ark that all of them would make it back safely.

A few hours had passed by the time Demetri decided to take a short break. Most of those who had been sick at the beginning, had suffered, survived, and made their way back out into camp to hopefully live another day and prepare for the morning. Octavia was taking care of Clarke and Murphy moved to roll Joseph on his side when he started to convulse and vomit again. Demetri was just standing back up to pass out water again when she saw two people bring Bellamy into the dropship.

“Clear some space!” Demetri’s voice was shrill in fear as the guys carrying him laid him on a now open mat on the floor.

“Bellamy? You’re okay, get it out.” Demetri held him steady as he threw up blood while Octavia rushed to his side.

“Hey big brother.” Octavia cooed as she wiped his face.

Bellamy being so pale, with blood splattered all over his face and shirt, with tears in his eyes before them, left both of them terrified.

“I’m scared.” Bellamy whispered as his eyes rolled back in his head and he tried to focus.

Demetri and Octavia shared a look. Bellamy had never voiced that he was scared, he always wore a strong face and kept up the facade of never backing down. To hear him say it out loud, in such a weak voice, whatever emotion was worse than being terrified they both felt it.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Octavia masked her fear well as she grabbed his hand.

“I said that to you the day you were born.” Bellamy managed a weak smile.

“I know, you tell me all the time.” Octavia’s voice was soft.

“I’ll take care of the others, you stay with him.” Demetri stopped petting Bellamy’s hair and went to stand up when his other hand grabbed the end of her jacket.

“Dem, I trust you. I need you to know that.” Demetri blinked away her tears.

“I know Bell, I know you do.” She kissed his knuckles. “O will take care of you okay? You’ll be better in a little bit.”

Bellamy squeezed her hand weakly and let Demetri go. The hand that had been holding onto Octavia’s tightened. Demetri went back to what she had been doing all day. Now more as a distraction over anything else. As time went by all she could do was spare glances at Bellamy as she worked to keep the dropship relatively clean of blood and do her best to insure no one else died. Not long after Bellamy had fallen asleep, Clarke woke up. Her face was less pale and there was no more bleeding from the various orifices. She appeared stronger and breathed just fine. When Clarke called out for Demetri she dropped whatever she was doing and rushed to her best friend.

“God I was so worried.” Demetri threw her good arm around Clarke.

“Demi, your shoulder!” Clarke scolded when she saw that she had bled through the bandages, “If you’re not careful there will be long term damage.”

“Taking care of our people is more important okay.” Demetri looked Clarke’s face over, “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better, what happened while I was out.”

“A lot. Finn came up with the idea to bomb the bridge and Raven figured out how, so they’re probably off doing that now. A lot of people have survived the sickness, many have already moved back out into the camp. There have been a few that it’s hit late,” Demetri paused, looking at Bellamy’s sleeping figure. “Bellamy being one of them.”

“Have you slept yet? Eaten?” Clarke looked Demetri over next, noticing the bags under her eyes.

“How can I sleep when the people I care about most are lying in here? And we’re anticipating a grounder attack at daybreak?” Demetri scoffed, pretending she was not only physically exhausted but mentally too.

“Get some rest, I’ll take over.” Clarke took the cup and rag from Demetri, and nodded for her to leave.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Demetri looked around the dropship. “Octavia just left to take a break, she was up all night too. Murphy just took over for her.” Clarke nodded again. “I’ll go up to the third level, if anything happens yell for me okay?”

“Got it.” Clarke immediately got to work, caring for the sick still in the dropship.

Demetri ascended to the third level leaving the hatch open and laid down on the seats against the wall. She stretched her achy body, grimaced when her shoulder screamed in protest, and then moved around till she was in a decently comfortable position. The long night finally caught up with her and soon she was pulled into restful dreamland she hadn’t had in a long time.

---

A loud rumble woke Demetri maybe a few hours later. She hoped it was the bomb at the bridge Bellamy had told her about. She chose to be hopeful and always see a silver lining regardless of the situation as it made everything much easier to deal with. She slowly went down the ladder and just started right back up where she left off, giving out water and wiping sweat from foreheads because there was still people who needed her. Now there were even less people suffering with the sickness. It was a good sign in Demetri’s eyes, the bridge was blown up and their people were making it through a sickness sent to help wipe them out.

She moved to check on Bellamy but he wasn’t in the dropship anymore and she hoped that meant he had made a full recovery too. Demetri went to wringe out some rags in the corner into a barrel that was cut in half and had been moved into the dropship. Just as she finished wringing them out she went back into the main area of the dropship to get clean water when she noticed Raven in the hammock Clarke had been before. She took a newly cleaned rag and wiped at Raven’s forehead, helping lower her fever.

“You’re strong Raven, you’ll get through this.” Demetri assured quietly, she went to step away when Raven grabbed her hand. “Hey, you’re okay.” Demetri cooed, patting her hand.

“I just need someone here.” Raven’s voice was raspy, Demetri saw unshed tears in her eyes and she noticed the necklace she always wore was gone. Demetri’s gaze softened.

“Alright, I’ll stay. Don’t worry.” Demetri held Raven’s hand between her own as Raven fell back asleep.

“After all this time your heart is still pure gold huh?” Murphy asked from the side.

“What are you talking about John?” Demetri turned her body to face him, settling in the seat beside Raven.

“We’ve been down here what? A month now, maybe two. You’re still as caring and righteous as you were the day we landed. Still as much bite behind your bark too. You haven’t changed at all.” He mused, watching as Demetri leant back against the wall and slowly let go of Raven’s hand.

“I have changed John, I’ve watched friends die. I watched you get banished. I’ve seen more than enough death in my days, especially now, to never want to see it again. What’s wrong with staying positive?”

“Nothing is Demetri, but with what’s coming, the death is just starting.” Murphy sat down a few feet away. “I’m worried we won’t make it, I’m worried they’ll kick me out to let me die again.”

“Not this time.” Demetri shook her head. “I won’t let then.”

“It was your idea last time.” Murphy’s voice turned sharp, pointed like the knife he held at her throat all that time ago. The feeling of anger swelled in his chest as he stared at the girl before him, someone he had thought about getting revenge on since he was sent off to die.

“It was that or letting you die. I knew you’d survive, it’s what you do John.” Demetri remained calm, she turned to put the rag back into the bucket. “Ah!” Demetri froze her movement when her shoulder sent a shock of pain through her body.

“You should go see Clarke, you’re bleeding through your bandages.” Murphy nodded, taking the rag from her hand. “I won’t get near her, but I’ll watch her till you’re back.” He made a mental note about her shoulder.

“Thanks John.” Demetri nodded at him, before she left the dropship to find Clarke. Demetri missed the way Murphy glared at Joseph’s sleeping form, before descending on him, out for blood.

---

“It’s been two days.” Clarke said to Demetri as they stood atop a hill just outside the wall.

“I know.” Demetri looked at the scenery around them. “They’re still coming, they wouldn’t give up.”

“Which is why we don’t stop preparing.” Bellamy’s voice scared them from behind. “Jasper thinks he can throw together some more gunpowder with some sulfur and Raven thinks she can turn that into landmines.” Bellamy lead them down the hill. “So watch where you step.”

“Ha. Funny.” Clarke cracked a smile.

“What I want is more of those bombs from the bridge, so we could walk right up to their villages and blow them all to hell.” Demetri smacked Bellamy with her good arm. “What? That’s what they want to do to us.”

Clarke was distracted, her eyes were vacant as she followed the couple

“Anything from the Ark?” Bellamy looked between the two, missing the worried look Demetri sent Clarke’s way.

“No, complete silence.” Demetri answered.

“Ran out of air?” Bellamy said quietly.

“Maybe my mom was lucky, it was quick with Exodus.” Clarke looked down at Demetri’s hand in hers. Demetri kept the comment about it not meaning anything bad to herself. She made one only yesterday and Clarke snapped at her.

“Let’s get you two back in camp, you’re not carrying weapons.” Bellamy broke the silence, his hands moving down to guide them towards the gate.

“I’d carry one if you’d let me.” Demetri countered, but followed Bellamy back towards the gate anyway.

“You’re not suppose to be using your right shoulder or arm Demi, at all.” Clarke scolded her. “You already overextended it when everyone was sick.”

“I wasn’t just gonna sit around and do nothing Clarke.” Demetri turned on her friend. “Sure it hurt a lot then, but I can’t be a hindrance when the grounders could attack at any moment.” Then she turned to Bellamy, “And you, ordering me to either stay by Clarke or with you? I’m not at a hundred percent, but I’m not useless.”

“Can you raise your arm up this high?” Bellamy held his arm out to her shoulder level, Demetri winced when her arm got to just above her stomach area. “Exactly. You’re not useless, but you can’t fight right now. So you do what you can but you stick close to one of us. Or I can assign a guard to you.” Bellamy threatened airly, trying to get Demetri to listen.

“You think your sister was a rebel, just try and give me a babysitter like you did to her.” Demetri glared up at Bellamy.

She knew Bellamy was acting this way because he was worried about her, but she had more than proved to be capable of taking care of herself, injured or not. And with Bellamy suddenly on her case about everything with her shoulder injury, she felt like she was being boxed in. She was beginning to understand Octavia more and more.

“Just come walk rounds with me, okay?” Bellamy tried to placate Demetri.

“Let’s go then.” Demetri smirked.

“Good luck with her.” Clarke waved after Bellamy, sending him a knowing look. Nobody could ever really control Demetri, and Clarke found it amusing to see Bellamy try.

Just as they entered the camp and started Bellamy’s rounds, a fire broke out in the smoke house. Bellamy ran over to pull Octavia out of the doorway as it caught fire. Demetri rushed to check on Murphy who was on the ground trying to get air in and smoke out of his lungs. The entire smokehouse, and everything inside of it, was up in flames moments later. Murphy was only by Demetri’s side for a moment before he was in Del’s face, yelling at him about putting too much wood on the fire.

Demetri stood and went to pull them apart when the other guy shoved her to the ground where she landed on her bad shoulder. Her luck with her arm was proving to be the worst. Bellamy was quick to get between them, holding them at arm's length as he looked over at Demetri. She sat up, holding her shoulder giving him a small okay sign.

“That’s all our food Bellamy, what are we gonna do?” Octavia yelled, glaring at the guy Murphy had punched, Del.

---

After the fire died down, Clarke and Bellamy started poking around as some of the 100 checked to see if anything made it.

“Know what happened here?” Clarke asked as she walked over to Bellamy, who was squatted by a still simmering carcass.

“Murphy said Del kept feeding the fire mostly because Octavia told him it was a bad idea.” Bellamy sighed, realizing he really was dealing with a bunch of kids.

“And we believe Murphy?” Clarke asked.

“I do.” Demetri said as she walked up. “Shoulder’s better now, don’t worry.” She answered the looks she got from both Clarke and Bellamy.

“What we have in the dropship will last one, maybe two weeks depending on how we ration it. Did anything survive?” Clarke asked, considering solutions.

“Nope, not a thing.” Bellamy stood.

“Then we have to hunt. Anyone we can spare goes out.” Clarke decided, going to walk away.

“With a grounder army out there waiting?” Bellamy stopped her.

“We won’t be able to fight if we’re starving Bell.” Demetri added. “We go out in hunting groups then.”

---

“Everyone go out with someone with a gun, use the spears for hunting. Don’t shoot unless it’s grounders, we can’t waste the ammo.” Bellamy spoke over the quiet chatter as people began to get spears or axes from inside the dropship and move outside to form hunting groups. “Get what you can, and be sure to be back by nightfall. No one stays out after dark.”

Clarke sidestepped a few people as she moved to get a spear. Demetri walked into the dropship then, with her backpack on and went straight to the rack of spears too.

“Should I consider us a group?” Demetri nudged Clarke with her good shoulder.

“Demi, you really should stay in camp.” Clarke started exasperated by Demetri’s constant disobedience.

“Look, I’m following both yours and Bellamy’s orders. I’m staying with either of you and not doing anything strenuous.”

“Hunting can be hard on your shoulder, you still need to rest.”

“Look.” Demetri very slowly raised her arm up till it was almost even with her shoulder. “And it doesn’t hurt much anymore. I rewrapped it after I cleaned the scabbing wounds and it felt a lot better.”

“I’m not telling Bellamy.” Clarke picked up a spear and froze when Finn appeared beside her.

“What are we not telling Bellamy?” Finn asked, looking between the two.

“That I’m going out with Clarke in a hunting group.” Demetri picked up a spear and smiled at Finn. “But that’s okay, I’ll tell him.”

“Need someone else?” Finn asked.

“No.” Clarke said.

“Yes.” Demetri glared at Clarke. “You take this, I can handle a gun now.”

Demetri went up to Bellamy, he already had disapproval written on his face.

“Don’t start Bell, Clarke cleared me to go on the hunt so give me a gun.” Demetri held both of her arms out evenly before Bellamy.

“Did she now?” Bellamy turned to Clarke. “Clarke, is she good to go?” Clarke reluctantly nodded. “Alright fine. Who are you going out with?”

“Clarke and Finn.” Demetri gladly took the gun from Bellamy. “Don’t worry, we’ll be careful okay?”

“Why don’t you come out with me?” Bellamy grabbed her hand.

“Bell, I promised I’d go with Clarke. I can’t let her go alone with Finn anyway, girl code.”

“You’re gonna lead me to an early death.” Bellamy sighed. “I need to go see if Raven has had time to make anymore bullets. Please be careful okay? Come back safely.”

“I’ll do the best I can.” Demetri stood on her tippy toes to peck Bellamy on the lips. “C’mon guys, let’s head out!”

Bellamy watched Clarke and Finn follow Demetri out of the the dropship. He made his way towards Raven’s tent as they left camp. He turned to watch them just before he stopped at Raven’s tent.

---

Finn led the way, picking up on boar tracks rather quickly. The trio followed the tracks out and away from camp. Demetri followed at the back with Clarke in the middle. Demetri listened to the quiet conversation of the pair before her, until Finn dropped to his knees.

“These tracks.” Finn started, looking at them closely.

“What about them?” Demetri asked, sparing a glance at the tracks before training her eyes back on the forest around them.

“They’re perfect.” Finn looked up at Clarke.

“Too perfect.” She finished his thought.

“We’re the ones being hunted.” Finn’s attention flew up and around them.

“I don’t see anything.” Demetri said as she looked through the scope of her gun. “Are yo--”

Her words were cut off by an arrow landing in her shoulder, the bad one. The pain was so strong it knocked Demetri off her feet. Clarke rushed to Demetri, trying to figure out how to help her. She sat her forward to see the arrow wasn’t all the way through her shoulder and she tried to figure out the best way to remove it in that moment.

“Clarke, go.” Demetri shoved her away. “You and Finn need to get out of here.” She winced as she sat herself up. “I can hide by a tree, I’ll be fine.”

“Demetri, I can’t leave you.” Clarke cried, tears springing to her eyes.

“Clarke, get out of here now!” Demetri shoved Clarke as hard as she could before she started crawling backwards towards the nearest tree.

“I’m so sorry Demetri.” Finn panted, “Let’s go Clarke.” He forcibly pulled her away from Demetri with tears running down her cheeks.

Demetri watched them run away and played dead when the grounders ran past her, they hardly spared her still body a glance. She heard Finn yell from a distance away before it went quiet. She hoped they had gotten away but deep down she knew they’d been caught. The pain surged through Demetri’s body when she moved, it was so strong she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer and darkness took her away.

---

“Demi?” A familiar voice called, “Demetri, where are you?”

“Bellamy! Over here!” Another familiar voice called.

Demetri opened her eyes only to be surrounded by darkness before Bellamy’s face popped into view. His hands cupped her face as she looked over him, a small smile gracing her pale lips.

“You found me.” Demetri panted as the pain hit her again.

“What happened? Are you okay?” He looked her over as a guy with a torch stood close by, watching the area.

“Grounders were hunting us, they took Clarke and Finn.” Demetri tried to stand, “We need to go after them.”

“You need to get back to camp.” Bellamy held Demetri up. “You promised you’d be careful and look at you.”

“It’s a small scratch.” Demetri winced, “We should go find Clarke and Finn, I’ll be fine.” Demetri bent down to pick up her gun.

“You’re not going anywhere but camp.” Bellamy ordered, then he turned to Raven beside him, Demetri barely caught the strange look on his face. “I’m sorry Raven.”

“Let’s get her back, and regroup.” Raven started to walk away, “We need to make a stretcher.”

“Monty,” Bellamy spoke into a handheld radio, “We’re going home, check in?” Nothing. “Monty? C’mon.” Bellamy looked around those before him.

“Is Monty missing too?” Demetri asked, turning her head towards Bellamy.

“I don’t know, we’ll figure that out after we get you back.”

They quickly threw together a stretcher to carry Demetri back, the reality of the situation making everyone tense. Demetri grabbed Raven’s arm.

“Hey, they’ll be okay. They’re both smart and resourceful.” Demetri tried to smile up at Raven, “We need to believe in them.”

“I do.” Raven answered weakly, “I believe in them.”

---

As soon as Demetri was in the dropship and someone was assigned to look after her the camp broke out into a frenzy. Raven and Jasper started setting up mines just outside the walls and traps were being set to pick off any grounders that got too close. Demetri could vaguely hear all the noise through the walls of the dropship. She tried to focus but the pain from the arrow in her shoulder mixing with the already trying to heal wounds made it hard for her to focus on anything but the excruciating pain she was experiencing. A kid named Amy sat with her and made sure she watched over while all this went on. Demetri was sure if Amy hadn’t been sitting beside her, she would have lost her mind.

---

Bellamy came into the dropship a few hours later to check on Demetri, who was drenched in sweat and holding onto her shoulder tightly. Amy had spent her time wiping sweat from Demetri’s face and body and making sure she was still breathing. She didn’t know what else to do, so Amy just kept up a quiet and simple conversation until Bellamy came back. Amy left the dropship to get back to doing what she was doing before Bellamy asked her to sit with Demetri. Bellamy watched Demetri, afraid to touch her. He had had some of the 100 move stuff used to plan for battle and how to counterattack to a makeshift table in the dropship. He didn’t plan on leaving her side now. He had her stashed off to the side and out of the way in one of the corners of the dropship. So she was out of the way and hidden, just in case grounders came and they needed to hide in the dropship she would be okay. He side glanced a moaning kid named Miles, who also had an arrow sticking out of his body, one in his stomach area and one in his thigh. Bellamy tried to not get annoyed by Miles because he had no idea how much an arrow hurt but Demetri was lying there without hardly moaning while Miles hadn’t shut up.

“You should find Clarke.” Demetri mumbled, “She’ll be able to fix me up real quick.” She held loosely onto Bellamy’s arm, her eyes lazily focusing on him.

“I want to, but if we send people out to look for them, who protects the camp?” Bellamy’s voice was sad, he was torn.

“If the places were switched, they’d be out there looking for you.” Jasper said, from the front of the dropship.

“What I’m doing right now is what I think is right for the camp, for all of us.” Bellamy turned to Jasper.

“Hey, don’t get worked up.” Demetri tugged on Bellamy’s jacket, “You’re no fun when you’re worked up.” Demetri tried to keep the mood light, knowing Bellamy was going crazy on the inside.

“I’m going to work on sulfur for your mines.” Jasper deadpanned before he ascended the stairs, his gun left on the table.

“Water, please.” Miles whined. “Water.”

“Go take care of him. This is nothing for me.” Demetri shoved against Bellamy’s stomach as he stepped closer to her.

It was much weaker than he would have liked it to be, but he nodded. He pushed damp hair from her forehead and gave her a hopeful smile.

“I’ll be right back, don’t you go anywhere.” He teased, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“And where would I go Bell?” She replied, smiling weakly up at him through half lidded eyes.

Bellamy squeezed her hand before he left to get Miles some water.

“You’ll be fine Miles, don’t worry. They’ll find Clarke and we’ll be okay.” Demetri called softly, before resorting to focus on breathing.

---

A few minutes later she heard Miles making weird noises, she moved her body around enough to see Murphy standing over him with a plastic bag over Miles’ head. Her eyes shot open as it registered that Murphy was suffocating Miles just ten feet from her. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, as quietly as she could, she rolled out the hammock she’d been laid in and hid herself in the shadows of the corner. She watched in horror as Miles stopped fighting, she bit her forefinger to stop any noises from coming out of her mouth. Panic coursed through her veins.

A clunking noise drew both her and Murphy’s attention to the ladder as Jasper had started to come down. Everyone froze when Jasper looked up as he hit the ground to see Murphy stashing the plastic bag out of sight. The silence was tense.

“He stopped breathing, I was trying to help him.” Murphy lied.

Jasper nodded, Demetri wanted to yell at Jasper to run, to get help. But she knew if she opened her mouth, they would both die by Murphy’s hands. Nobody moved for a heartbeat before the guys both went for Jasper’s gun he had sat down earlier. Murphy got to it first and aimed it right at Jasper’s heart.

“Murphy,” Jasper whispered, “put the gun down.”

“He tried to kill me.” Murphy motioned to Miles’ body. “Hey! Don’t move!” Murphy yelled when Jasper made a move for the door.

“Okay, okay, it’s fine.” Jasper had a hand out in front of him. He seemed to have forgotten Demetri was in the dropship too and she didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“No, it’s not fine. We both know what will happen if you tell Bellamy.” Murphy sounded panicked.

“Tell Bellamy what?” Bellamy’s voice crackled from Jasper’s side.

Demetri saw the way Murphy tensed up. He took a step towards Jasper who took a step back.

“Give me the radio.” Jasper slowly pulled the radio from his pocket.

Demetri held her breath, if Jasper listened all would be okay.

“Murphy has a gun, he killed Miles.” Jasper barely finished before Murphy slammed the butt of the gun into Jasper’s face, knocking him to the ground.

“No, Jasper!” Demetri whispered to herself.

“Murphy, what the hell are you doing?” Bellamy’s voice crackled through the walkie.

Murphy moved towards the switch for the dropship door and he pulled it, pulling the door up. A ruckus started outside as the door had started to move.

“Murphy! Murphy open the damn door!” Bellamy yelled as the door started to shut.

“You try to be a hero and Jasper dies.” Murphy bellowed as the door shut, sealing them inside.

He already started tying Jasper up, his hands secured behind his back. Demetri started to panic in that moment. She needed to do something, but with the arrow in her shoulder she was practically useless.

“The arrow.” Demetri gritted her teeth together and pressed on the arrow, if she can get it to break the skin on the back she could pull it through.

Under the cover of beating on the outside of the dropship, she let out a soft groan as the arrow broke through the skin of her back. She had to stop because a new, stronger wave of pain washed over her. She felt faint as her body processed what happened. With another deep breath she reached behind her and jerked the arrow out of her shoulder. The pain sent shockwaves through her body again. Clarke was going to tear her a new one later but she’d welcome it then. As it went silent outside, so did Demetri as she tried to stop the shuttering of her body. She slowly forced her body into a sitting position and moved to where she could see the open area of the dropship.

“Murphy, I know you can hear me.” Bellamy’s voice broke through the silence. “All our ammo and food is in the middle level. You know that, you’re leaving us vulnerable to an attack right now. I can’t let you do this.”

“Well in case you haven’t noticed, you’re not exactly in control right now.” Murphy spat, moving away to watch the door and Jasper.

“C’mon Murphy.” Bellamy’s voice was strained, “You don’t want to hurt Jasper, you want to hurt me.” Demetri stopped breathing. “So what do you say? Make a trade, him for me?”

Demetri’s grip on the arrow was so tight her knuckles were white.

“Bellamy, no.” Demetri whimpered.

“All you have to do is let him go and I’ll take his place.”

Murphy looked over at Jasper, saw the tears gathering in his eyes, and smiled. It was then, as Jasper looked around a little frantic that he noticed Demetri tucked away in the corner. She held her finger to her lips to warn Jasper not to make a noise. His eyes widened, remembering she had been lying off to the side with an arrow through her shoulder just minutes before.

“How?” Murphy’s voice was light and airy.

“Simple, open the dropship door, I walk in, he walks out.” Murphy fidgeted with the radio in his hand as he thought.

Demetri realized that would be her only chance, if she could get Murphy after he opened the door and Bellamy was walking in, Bellamy could take care of him. Everyone would be okay. Demetri held her breath as Murphy walked over to the lever and pulled it. The door creaked as it went down.

“Bellamy, just you, unarmed.” He yelled. “10 seconds or I’ll put one in Jasper’s leg.”

Murphy started counting down, Jasper shook his head when he saw Demetri move into a ready crouched position. He stopped at five when Bellamy yelled at him.

“I’m here!”

Bellamy walked through the flap to find a gun pointed at his face as Jasper was pushed past him. Octavia could vaguely be heard telling Jasper to get up before the door started to go up again. With Murphy being distracted by Bellamy, Demetri tightened her grip on the arrow and she charged at Murphy. He spun, the barrel of the gun moving away from Bellamy for a moment.  Murphy stepped out of the way and used his elbow to hit Demetri in the stomach. She dropped to the ground, the arrow scuttering away from her.

“Ah, look at this, your little girlfriend likes to play hero, just like you.” Murphy grinned as he grabbed Demetri by her hair and drug her to her feet just before him. “I liked you Demetri, in the platonic sense. You’ve got a good heart. A little in the not platonic sense to be honest, too bad you had to get mixed up with him.” Murphy wrinkled his nose at Bellamy.

“John, don’t do this.” Demetri gasped, the pain from her shoulder mixed with the air getting knocked out of her had left her in a bad momentary state.

“Don’t hurt her.” Bellamy’s voice was rough. “Let her go, this doesn’t involve her.”

“It does, actually.” Murphy held Demetri against him, arm holding her down around her collar bones with his fingers hovering over her wounded shoulder. “You see, while she believed I didn’t kill Wells and cut me down, she suggested banishing me. She told me it’s because she knew I’m a survivor but because she said to send me away I was caught by grounders and tortured.” Murphy growled.

“Take it out on me, don’t hurt her.” Bellamy inched forward just a bit.

A bullet went through the floor just in front of Bellamy and Demetri jerked back.

“That’s far enough.”

“Bellamy, what the hell was that?” Octavia’s voice crackled through the radio on Murphy hip. “Bellamy!”

“If you want her to know you’re still alive, start tying those together.” Murphy pointed to the pile of seatbelts. “Why don’t you get the radio for me sweetheart.” Murphy sneered, using Bellamy’s nickname for Demetri.

Demetri winced as she reached across her body with her good arm to get the radio then she put it in Murphy’s waiting hand. Bellamy slowly started tying together the seatbelts in front of him, Demetri saw the fear in his eyes.

“John,” Demetri tried again, “no one’s gotten hurt, if you stop this now we can figure something out, look the other way even. Now’s not the time fo-Ah!” Demetri’s words were cut short when she cried out on pain.

Murphy had dug his finger into her arrow wound which effectively stopped her talking.

“You’re always using reason, trying to persuade others to listen to you. It may work on everyone else but it won’t work on me, not now. So shut up.” Murphy’s voice was malicious.

“Bellamy, do you copy?” Octavia’s voice was loud in Demetri’s ear.

“I’m fine.” Bellamy called, when Murphy held out the radio with the button pushed. “It was a misfire, now stop worrying about me and get back to work. And tell Raven to hurry the hell up.”

“Alright, that’s long enough.” Murphy said after he let go of the button. He sat the radio down on the table, dragging Demetri with him as he moved. “Tie those two ends together.”

Bellamy exchanged a worried look with Demetri, who could only watch through teary eyes. She was badly hurt, she was exhausted, and she used what little strength she had left already. She felt absolutely hopeless in the moment.

“Now get up and toss it over.” Murphy instructed, nodding towards a pipe that ran front-to-back of the dropship.

“No, John, don’t.” Demetri started to beg, realizing that Murphy had Bellamy make his own noose. She was helpless as Bellamy did was Murphy said, before turning towards him.

“What do you want me to say? You want me to apologize? I’m so--”

Murphy kicked the back of Demetri’s knee and sent her to her knees as he raised the gun at Bellamy’s chest. Bellamy’s eyes focused on Demetri immediately before doubling back to Murphy.

“I’m sorry.” Bellamy let out a deep breath, watching Demetri struggle to sit back on her knees.

“You got is all wrong Bellamy. I don’t want you to say anything.” Murphy reached down and pulled Demetri’s head up by her hair. “I want you to feel what I felt and then,” He paused, tugging roughly on Demetri’s hair to make her to cry out. “Then I want you to die.”

“John, please.” Demetri begged, “please, don’t do this.” She felt like a broken record as she begged.

“Tell ya what, I know what else would destroy Bellamy here.” Murphy’s eyes turned dark as he looked at Bellamy. “I take what’s his, that’ll hurt won’t it Bellamy. Ruin something so pure to you.”

Murphy jerked Demetri to her feet and with the gun still trained on Bellamy with one hand he pressed Demetri’s back against his chest. Bellamy took a step forward, a fire in his eyes, when Murphy dug his fingers back into the hole in Demetri’s shoulder. Her cries stopped Bellamy in his tracks, he now looked hopelessly on at the scene before him.

“Stay right there, or I’ll kill her first.” Murphy warned Bellamy.

He hand moved from her shoulder, over her chest, down her stomach, and stopped at the button of her jeans. Murphy ran his hand up under her shirt as he palmed her breast while holding eye contact with Bellamy. Demetri was using all her remaining strength to remain on her feet, her hand had weakly tried to pry Murphy’s from her body.

“Get your hands off her.” Bellamy growled, the tears that fell from Demetri’s eyes only making him angrier.

“Why? I rather enjoy this.” Murphy chuckled, “I’m sure if we continued, she would too.”

Murphy removed his hand from under Demetri’s shirt and Bellamy let out a small sigh. Demetri hiccuped from the crying, she felt dirty, she felt like a stranger in her body. Murphy was just playing with them, that much was obvious. He knew all of this would get reactions, and he relished in it.

“You see, I’m gonna spare Demetri here because while I’m upset about getting banished, she is one of the only people in camp who has continuously treated me well this whole time. But, just because I’m not gonna kill her doesn’t mean I can’t have any fun. So Demetri, why don’t you go pull that little table over to Bellamy, so he has something to stand on.”

“No, don’t make me do this.” John squeezed her shoulder earning a whimper.

“Demetri, just do it.” Bellamy begged her, just wanting her to be okay. “Please.”

After she looked at him, searching his eyes to see if he had a plan and seeing nothing, she slowly left John’s arms to move the table. She drug it with one arm right in front of Bellamy. He reached out and squeezed her hand once before Murphy yelled at them.

“Great, now come here.” Demetri obediently went back to Murphy, who put his arm around her under her chest to hold her to him. “Now, you get up on it.” He waited until Bellamy was on the table. “Put it over your head.”

“This is insane.” Bellamy looked from the noose to Murphy, “The grounders could--”

A bang range through the dropship as Murphy shot at the floor, making Demetri jump. A whimper left her lips as she looked at the hole in the dropship floor.

“Put it over your head.” Murphy growled.

“Happy now?” Bellamy growled back after the noose was around his neck.

“John, please.” She tried one last time.

“Shut up!” Murphy threw her to the floor and kicked her in the stomach, “I can still kill you.”

“Focus on me Murphy.” Bellamy bellowed, getting Murphy to leave Demetri alone.

Murphy tugged on the seatbelts, tightening the noose around Bellamy’s neck and causing him to have to stand on balls of his feet. His hands flew to hold onto the seat belt wrapped snug around his neck.

“You’re so brave, aren’t you?” Murphy chuckled, “I mean, you walked in here thinking you’re just gonna turn this whole thing around, that you were stronger than me, and maybe one of your friends would come and help you since your girlfriend here is useless.” Murphy pulled on the seat belts as he spoke which put Bellamy more and more at risk of falling off the table. “Well what are you thinking now Bellamy?”

Bellamy glared down at Murphy. Murphy took a step forward and pulled the noose tighter, then he took another step forward. Demetri forced herself to sit up, thinking through the pain. If she didn’t do anything soon Bellamy would die. She looked around to see the arrow from her shoulder just out of reach. She moved towards it, watching Murphy tighten the noose more and more. By the time she got to the arrow, Bellamy was clawing at his neck, trying to steady his breathing, and keep himself up on his tippy toes.

Demetri steeled herself, made the choice then forced her body to stand. She ran right up to Murphy with what little energy she had left and stabbed her arrow into his side with the limited movement she had from her arm. He gasped and let go of a bit of length of seat belt before he jerked his hand back and smacked Demetri across the face. He retched the arrow from his side and broke it in half before tossing it to the other side of the dropship.

“Demi?!” Bellamy gasped.

“I’ve got to hand it to you Bellamy,” Murphy took control of the conversation again, “You’ve got them all fooled, they actually look up to you almost as much as they look up to Clarke. Especially this one right here. She might have fought you in the beginning, but now? She’s pretty obvious, the way she looks at you it’s easy to tell. But then again, you listen to her well Bellamy, you don’t listen to anyone else, so it was obvious she meant something to you before you realized it yourself.” Murphy looked down at Demetri who had finally started to scowl at him. “But we know the truth, don’t we? You’re a coward. I learned that the day you kicked the crate out from beneath me.” Murphy smirked up at Bellamy, whose face had gone stoic. “Isn’t that what you said, huh? That you were giving the people just what they wanted?”

“He’s not the coward here, you are.” Demetri barked, her glare set on Murphy.

“Oooh, she’s getting angry.” Murphy teased, his hand reach out and caressing her cheek.

“I should have stopped them.” Bellamy pulled Murphy’s attention back to him, he’d do whatever he could to ensure Demetri would be okay.

“Yea, it’s a little late for that now, but thanks for the effort.”

“You think they’ll just let you walk out of here?” Demetri asked, pulling Murphy’s attention back to her.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the Princess is dead, and the King’s about to die,” Murphy glanced over to Demetri, “Who’s gonna lead these people, huh? Me, that’s who. And yea, maybe I’ll have to kill your little grounder-pounder sister, but I’ll need the King’s Sweetheart here for some leverage.” Murphy dodge the kick Bellamy sent his way, and ran for the seat belt rope he had tied off to the ladder and pulled down on it. Bellamy went back to struggling before a shriek from below startled them.

“Raven.” Demetri breathed, knowing she had to stall a little longer now.

“I’m guessing that her right now.” Murphy thought it was Octavia so he pulled his gun up and emptied the clip into the floor.

When the gun clicked Demetri’s head shot up. She moved to tackled Murphy, but he was too fast and kicked the table from under Bellamy’s feet. Murphy side stepped Demetri again and grabbed ahold of her, he pulled her up by the collar of her shirt, till she was right in front of him. Murphy leant so close to Demetri’s face she could see the beads of sweat along his hairline. He stopped when his mouth was right beside her ear and he could see Bellamy just over her head.

“While you were out in the forest dying, Raven was waiting for Bellamy in his tent.”

Murphy let go and let Demetri fall to her knees, his smirk towards Bellamy was wide and sadistic. Demetri shook her head, she couldn’t get distracted, not now. She jumped up and tried to get the gun from Murphy’s hands, she got a nice hold of it but Murphy jerked it from her weak grasp. He brought the butt of the gun down on her right shoulder and knocked her back to the ground. He kicked her in the stomach once for good measure. Then he turned on Bellamy and hit him a few times when the dropship door started to go down. Murphy froze at the noise. When he looked over his shoulder to see the door going down he bolted for the ladder. Demetri pushed herself up and scrambled to try to get the knots of the seat belts undone.

“Demetri!” Jasper called as he entered the dropship.

“Help Bellamy!” She cried, Jasper moved to hold Bellamy up around his knees. Demetri grabbed the knife on Jasper hip and sliced through the seat belts before Bellamy and Jasper hit the ground.

“Oh my god, Bellamy!” She cried, as she loosened the noose and threw is across the room. She pulled his head onto her lap and held onto him. “Please breathe, Bellamy. Breathe.”

Octavia rushed in in the next moment, her eyes falling on both Bellamy and Demetri. He saw her brother’s red face and the blood stained shirt and the missing arrow in Demetri’s shoulder. She fell to her knees before Demetri, giving her good shoulder a squeeze.

“When Jasper said he saw you hiding in here, I was so worried.” Octavia then turned to Bellamy, “That was so stupid what were you thinking!” Octavia wanted to be mad at him. “God, I’m glad your okay.”

Bellamy started to sucking deep breaths, but the rage in his eyes was back. Instead of taking it easy, he scrambled to stand up and started yelling, his voice hoarse.

“Murphy!” Bellamy threw himself at the ladder. “Murphy, it’s over! Give it up!”

Demetri struggled to breathe herself as she watched Bellamy climb the ladder and start beating on the hatch as he yelled. She let Octavia check out her shoulder as Bellamy continued on his rampage, the adrenaline was almost out of her system and the pain was back.

“There’s only one way out of this for you now!” Demetri wasn’t sure she’d even be able to help Murphy now, not with what’s happened. She didn’t think she could try to help him even if she wanted to.

Bellamy continued yelling before a loud explosion just above them shook the dropship and almost knocked Bellamy off the ladder. But he held tight and then continued trying to get the hatch open until whatever blocked it broke. Demetri watched him disappear into the top level, yelling for Murphy, with Jasper on his tail.

Miller came in on the radio a minute later about movement along one of the walls and Bellamy flew down the stairs and out of the dropship. Octavia helped support Demetri as she followed him with a wad of cloth pressed to the hole in her shoulder.

“Wait! It’s Clarke and Finn! Open the gate!” Miller yelled as multiple people rushed to pull the gate back.

Demetri felt like she was going to pass out from both relief and blood loss and had Octavia not been holding onto her, she probably would have.

“We heard an explosion, what happened?” Clarke’s eyes darted to everyone around her. “Demi! Oh my god!” Clarke almost cried at the sight of Demetri leaning into Octavia, she immediately went over to them and started looking at the wound in Demetri’s shoulder.

“Murphy happened.” Bellamy replied, letting his gaze fall on Demetri for a moment.

“You’re okay, thank god. Where’s Monty?” Jasper asked as he hugged Clarke when she stopped to look at Bellamy with nervous eyes.

“Monty’s missing?”

“Clarke we need to go, we all need to go.” Finn cut off the previous conversation. “There’s a grounder army unlike anything we’ve ever seen coming for us right now. We need to pack what we can and run.” Finn was shaking as he spoke, his voice loud and clear.

“Like hell we do, we knew this was coming our way.” Bellamy shook his head.

“Bell, we’re not prepared and some of us are injured.” Octavia, readjusted her grip on Demetri for emphasis, who only shook her head slightly.

“And they’re not here yet. We still have time to get ready.” Bellamy’s gravelly voice travelled over everyone in camp. “Beside, where would we go? Where would be safer than behind these walls?”

“East, there’s an ocean. People there will help us.” Finn pulled out Lincoln’s notebook.

“You saw Lincoln.” Octavia stepped forward.

Demetri let go of Octavia and leaned on the wooden water trough in front of her. Bellamy moved forward to wrap an arm around her. He ignored the talk about Lincoln and turned his head towards the people around him.

“This is our home now. We built this from nothing with our bare hands.” Bellamy made sure Demetri could stand before he turned his whole body as he continued. “Our dead are buried just behind that wall. In this ground! Our ground! The grounders think they can take that away. They think that because we came down here from the sky that we don’t belong here.” Bellamy’s voice cracked from the use. “But they’ve yet to realize one very important fact about us: We are on the ground now, and that means We. Are. Grounders!” His words were followed with cheers.

“Bellamy’s right.” Clarke stepped up. “ If we leave, we may never find a place as safe as this. And God knows in this world, we could face something even worse tomorrow.” Clarke looked at the remaining members of the 100 as she spoke. “But that doesn’t change the simple fact that is we stay here, we will die tonight. So pack your things, only what you can carry, now.”

People jumped into action moments later, the crowd scattered to pack and Bellamy turned back to Demetri. He was about to open his mouth when a pained cry caught their attention.

“Help me!”

“It’s Raven!” Someone called.

“Raven!” Finn yelped.

“Get her into the dropship!” Clarke yelled as Finn rushed over and picked Raven up, carrying her into the dropship swiftly.

“Leaving is a mistake, Clarke.” Bellamy stopped Clarke as she rushed by, Demetri wobbled up to them.

“Decision’s been made.” Clarke answered, looking worriedly at Demetri’s current state.

“Crowds make bad decisions, just ask Murphy. Leaders do what they think is right.”  Bellamy was pleading with Clarke.

“I am.” She replied before she went into the dropship to check on Raven.

Demetri grabbed onto Bellamy when she felt light headed and he turned to her and held onto to her arms. He peeled back her jacket to see the hole in her shoulder was still seeping blood.

“How are you still upright right now?” Bellamy picked her up like Finn just picked up Raven and carried Demetri towards the dropship. “Do you know how reckless you were being earlier. You should have stayed hidden.”

“And let you face Murphy alone?” Demetri’s head bounced over to rest on Bellamy’s shoulder, “That would be breaking my promise.”

“You’re not allowed to die for me, your life is worth so much more.” Bellamy’s voice softened.

“Life without you wouldn’t be worth living.” Demetri replied simply, acting like those words didn’t just leave Bellamy breathless.

“If you do something like that again, I’ll never let you out of my sight again.”

“Isn’t that how we ended up in this situation?” Demetri joked as Bellamy walked into the dropship. “Just thank me for helping stall, give me a kiss, and let Clarke fix me up. We did almost die so I’d appreciate a lecture later.” Demetri’s eyes closed, missing the softest of smiles Bellamy looked at her with.

“Thank you staying by my side.” Bellamy kissed Demetri’s pouty lips before he sat her down in a hammock. “Tell Clarke to check on Demetri after she has checked on Raven.”

“Of course.” Octavia nodded, she rushed over to check on Demetri as Bellamy stepped out of the dropship. “Thank you for watching out for Bellamy.”

“Anytime O.” Demetri grinned, but winced when her shoulder moved wrong.

“Just relax, Clarke will be over here soon.” Octavia held Demetri’s hand, and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

“It would be a lot of help if you could stop the bleeding.” Demetri said, “It’ll help me out a lot.”

“Right.” Octavia ran to get bandages and pressed them onto the wound. “Sorry if this hurts.”

“I don’t think anything can top the pain I’ve felt in the last 12 hours.” Demetri winced when Octavia used her palm to apply pressure. “And I’m still alive so that’s a cool thing.”

“Don’t talk Demi, save your strength.” Octavia chuckled softly, “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“I know, but it’s easier this way. Pretending to always be strong, it helps people.” Demetri felt like she was rambling but she couldn’t stop. Her head lolled to look at Octavia who, like her brother, had a fond smile on her face.

“How did my brother managed to trick you into liking him?” She mused.

“Maybe you should ask how I tricked him into liking me.” Demetri teased, her voice slurred.

“I will later, rest.” Octavia ordered as Demetri’s eyes fluttered shut.

[duckingwriting]

Reveal

I just posted a new short little fic on AO3 - Reveal. A Daphne Blake/Velma Dinkley story.

Summery(I’m so bad at these):  Daphne wakes up to Velma still working through the clues from their latest case. They talk an confessions that Daphne is not in love with Fred take place.

CW: Sex, face sitting, oral sex, getting together, little to no plot

Story bellow the cut if you don’t want to go to AO3

Daphne rolled to her back with a sigh. She glared into the too bright lamp from the hotel room desk. Rolling to her side Daphne stared at the woman sitting at the desk letting a small smile curl on her lips as she watched the shorter woman hunched over the desk. She was mumbling under her breath, the sound of a pen scratching against the paper. It was a familiar sound and a comforting sound. Daphne wanted to ask if the other woman had gone to sleep at all. She caught her lip and started chewing on it lightly while her thoughts swirled around the woman and what she would like to do to her if given the chance. She pictured the pale flesh being slowly revealed as she slowly pushed up her orange sweater. She had caught glimpses of the other woman's form after sharing so many hotel rooms together. She had no doubt that the images she saw in her mind were not too far off from reality. The other woman had a small mole on her left breast. Nipples that were a nice dusty color that she could not imagine being anywhere else.

"Did I wake you?" Velma's voice was as clipped as Daphne had ever heard it. The familiar tone a soft caress.

"I'm not sure." Daphne admitted. She was not afraid of the monster that they were hunting down, some kind of  ghoul if she remembered correctly. They went after so many monsters that it was not even worth remembering what mythical creature they were after the half the time. After all they ere nothing more than just mortals no matter how bad it seemed. How magical it appeared. It was always some human in a suit with technology that they would find in their trap. Daphne was not afraid of them. After all they were always motivated by things such a greed. Motivations she could understand.

After all, it was just one of the seven deadly sins. Just like Lust. That was really what kept Daphne up. Not fear.

"Have you had any luck?" Daphne sat up, she stretched her arms over her head as her shoulders gave a small pop. She let her eyes barely slit open and watched as Velma stopped her work and turned to watch Daphne. Daphne let out a soft but audible moan to see what Velma would do. Daphne was not convinced that it was not all just in her head. The way Velma blushed when Daphne made any even semi-sexual sounds and the way her eyes lingered on her exposed stomach.

Daphne Wanted to ask, wanted to press forward and see how much of it was in her head and how much was actually there. They had been friends for so long, Daphne wondered if she was just seeing things because she wanted to, like how often the people of Crystal Cove wanted to believe that the monsters were real monsters not just some con in a suit. Some greedy human who just wanted money in the easiest way they can think of. Though really, they spent so much money on their schemes Daphne wondered how they expected to make money even if their plans went through. Maybe they were just-

Daphne sighed, she really didn't want to send herself down the line of self pity and thinking that she was no better than the goons that they busted.

"I think I've about got it." Velma spoke softly and turned away from Daphne, a bright blush burning from her cheeks down her neck. She did her best to keep her breathing even. She could not let Daphne know about her crush. The woman had always been one of the most popular through all their school days. Even now when they needed to get men to look the other way while they sneaked into wherever they were going to investigate, they sent Daphne in. Velma glanced back over to where Daphne was sitting on the edge of the bed and appeared to be examining her perfect finger nails.

"So we can tell Freddy tomorrow morning at breakfast." Daphne smiled lifting her gaze up and looking at Velma. "So we can work on the plan for the trap."

Velma flinched slightly at the mention of the blonde man. Everyone knew that Daphne had a crush on Fred. His new relationship with Shaggy would not make Daphne's feelings magically disappear. Velma thought Daphne was handling it very well. She was not sure how she would have handled walking in on Daphne playing tonsil hockey to learn that she was seeing someone.

"How...are you holding up?" Velma asked carefully. She hoped her voice was as steady as it normally was. She really wanted to tell Daphne that it didn't matter how upset she was, that it would be okay, that she would be able to move on from Fred, she just had to keep moving forward. Maybe look at someone else who's close to her. Find love from someone who has always been there for her. From her first lost tooth to her most recent heart break. Velma and Daphne had been with each other for everything. Velma sighed, wondering how she would ever get Daphne to know how much she loved her. Not that it mattered, Daphne had been in love with Fred for years. Velma knew the other woman was straight. And even if she was not, Velma was not the type of woman a woman like Daphne would fall for after all.

"What do you mean?" Daphne frowned in confusion. She let it become obvious that her attention was turning to the other woman rather than pretending that her attention was anywhere else.

"With Fred and Shaggy." Velma said carefully, doing her best to keep her own emotions out of it. She could pretend she was only happy for her friends and not that she could now never worry about Daphne and Fred becoming more and doing her best to pretend to be happy for them when she was consumed by jealousy. That would be a selfish reason to be happy about Fred and Shaggy after all.

"A bit surprising isn't it?" Daphne stood up and walked over to stand by the desk. She started playing with the papers on the corner as an excuse to be closer to the other woman. "I didn't think Shaggy ever saw anything but food."

"Yeah." Velma felt herself blushing knowing that she could lean just slightly to the left and press against Daphne. It would take so little effort to push her shirt up and start littering her perfect belly with kisses. Velma pushed the thought from her mind. "Are you okay with it though? With your feelings for Fred and all..."

Daphne reeled back in surprise. She had not thought about the crush she had once had for her blonde best friend. One fumbling night in early college and an embarrassing morning after realizing they were both more attracted to the same sex than the other had cured it easily. She did not think that Velma would even think it was still in effect. She could not stop the bubbling laugh that left her throat where she leaned up against the desk.

Velma turned her head quickly towards Daphne. She was not expecting the other woman to start laughing at the comment. She was torn between her confusion at the reason-less laughter, and the joy at knowing she was one of the only people who got to hear the genuine laughter from the red-head. She caught her lip between her teeth and waited for the other woman to stop laughing and let her know what was so amusing about her question.

"I don't...Fred's my best friend." Daphne slowly got her breathing under control after her sudden laughing fit. She started nervously playing with the hem of her shirt twisting it in her hands.  "That's...that's all my feelings are for him. I...there's someone else that I have feelings for."

Velma clenched her hand tightly around the pen she held and took a steadying breath as her heart thudded a jealous beat. "Oh? I haven't heard you talk about anyone."

Daphne was silent for long enough that Velma turned to be sure she was still beside her. Daphne had leaned forward so their faces were inches from each other, her violet eyes boring into Velma's an searching for something. Daphne slowly brought her hand up to cup Velma's cheek with a gentle curl of her lips. The smile was nervous and Velma felt her own heart was rising quickly to pound in her throat as she blinked through her glasses at Daphne.

"I...I'd like to kiss you?" Daphne was slowly leaning in towards the other woman, giving her time to pull away. Velma prided herself on her intelligence, she was ashamed on how long it took for her to realize that Daphne was leaning forward to kiss her. That Daphne meant that it was Velma she had feelings for. Because why else would the redhead kiss her if she didn't like her? Velma lifted her arms up an wrapped them around Daphne's shoulders an met the kiss with her own. She threaded her fingers up into the red hair and pulled softly bringing her mouth tighter against her own.

Daphne kept one hand softly curled around over her cheek. She slid off the desk to lean further over the woman, lifting her knee to rest on the chair by her hip. Daphne softly licked at Velma's sealed lips until she opened them and allowed Daphne to start exploring her mouth. Her free hand lightly gripped the back of Velma's neck. Velma let her hand slowly slide down until they were on Daphne's hips, her fingers slowly working underneath the other woman's shirt. Velma felt a thrill go through her body as she felt Daphne's soft skin beneath her finger tips.

"Perhaps we should take this to one of the beds?" Velma whispered when Daphne pulled away for them to catch their breath. Daphne smiled and pulled away, reaching out and grabbing Velma's wrist and pulled her with. Velma stumbled to her feet, a testament to how long she had been sitting at the desk without moving as she studied the clues they had collected.

Daphne fell backwards on the bed, tightening her grip on Velma's wrist to drag the shorter woman down with her. Velma's glasses slid from her face and bounced against the bed beside Daphne.

"Daph, my glasses," Velma started with a pout. "I can't see-"

"You can always use your hands to feel for them." Daphne pulled Velma's hands up to her breasts. "Perhaps they're around here?"

Velma blushed and leaned forward to begin kissing Daphne again while slowly massaging her breasts. She could feel the other woman's niples hardening beneath the silken fabric of of her pajama shirt. Daphne moaned into Velma's mouth as the other woman started pinching at her nipple lightly. The silken fabric twisted beneath Velma's hands as she started pulling and twisting on Daphne's nipples. Velma started moving her mouth from Daphne's lips, down her neck, and to her collar bone. Velma paused then to start sucking dark bruises into the exposed flesh. She started to slide her hands down Daphne's body, then let her mouth follow over the fabric. Daphne arched up into Velma's mouth as she started sucking on her nipple through the fabric.

Velma moved to the other nipple and the air cooled the moist fabric against her stiff nipple. Unable to help herself Daphne started threading her fingers into Velma's hair and held her close. Velma paused when her fingers hit the edge of her pants. She started slowly sliding her fingers under the silken waistband. Daphne slid one hand from the tangled mess of hair and down to touch the other woman's breasts beneath the orange sweater. Daphne moved her knees to rest on either side of Velma's hips when the shorter woman's fingers started touching gently at her neatly manicured pubic hair. Velma lifted her head and leaned forward again and captured Daphne's lips with her own. She rubbed softly at the other woman's thighs while slowly pushing her pants down.

Velma caught her lip between her teeth when she looked up at Daphne. She could not see the other woman's face without her glasses so instead she strained her ears to hear the way the other woman was breathing hoping to use it to judge if this was really something she was okay with or if she was just getting tangled up in emotions. Velma caught her breath while Daphne slowly slid her glasses on her face with a soft smile. The other woman was always gorgeous and Velma knew it, but currently she was flushed brightly and staring at Velma with so much affection she could not handle it. So instead she dropped her gaze and let herself enjoy the sight of the well manicured hair covering Daphne's pussy.

Velma dropped Daphne's pants off the side of the bed, choosing not to comment on her lack of panties. Slowly Velma skimmed her hands up Daphne's legs until her thumbs could start rubbing softly at Daphne's pussy. Daphne spread her legs a bit so Velma could settle more easily between them. Velma slowly pulled Daphne's pussy open an stared down at the slick coated entrance. Velma carefully pushed her thumbs against her entrance and began massaging against the other woman, feeling the slick slide over her thumbs and start pooling in her palms. Daphne gave a soft groan and Velma leaned into to start teasing the entrance with her tongue.

"Oh!" Daphne gasped as Velma's tongue breached into her core. She could not stop herself from reaching out and tangling her fingers in the short brown hair. Velma hummed and started twisting her tongue within Daphne. Velma's nose pressed against Daphne's clit and her glasses went askew when Daphne's legs twitched as if to close around her head. Daphne's hands stumbled as she reached out and took the glasses from the other woman's face. She nearly dropped them but managed to get them to the side table before her body arched from the bed with a startled shout as Velma's teeth lightly scrapped against her clit.

Velma moaned when Daphne pulled on her head encouraging her closer. Velma could feel the slick coating her mouth and chin as she lifted her head slightly to flick her tongue against Daphne's clit. She hoped she was doing as well as she felt she was. She was not completely sure she was. After all it wasn't as if she had ever had sex before. She had never thought any one would pay her enough attention for her to even attempt to eat out another woman. Once she had discovered she really was not interested in men she assumed she would die an old lady all alone. Maybe with a few cats to keep her company among her bookshelves.

That did not seem as likely though with Daphne gripping her hair and encouraging her mouth ever closer to her cunt. Velma sucked Daphne's clit between her teeth, careful not to let her teeth bite down on the delicate flesh while she slowly sucked the other woman. She carefully slid her finger into the other woman. She took the sharp gasping as encouragement and soon had a second and third finger in Daphne. Velma was careful of her nails as she slowly worked her fingers deeper into the other woman.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Daphne panted and twisted slightly beneath Velma, attempting to get her fingers a bit deeper. To convince the other woman to suck a bit harder, twist her fingers a bit more. She tried not to pull on the other woman's hair too much and tried to soothe it when she did pull on the hair tangled around her fingers. Daphne had always imagined that Velma would be talented with her mouth, but when said tongue drove back in between Velma's fingers to press and curl against that bundle of nerves Daphne avoided until she was ready to come, Daphne had to admit that the other woman far exceeded expectations.

Velma slowly pulled away from Daphne's twitching body while the other woman lay on the bed catching her breath after her shattering orgasm. Daphne fumbled to reach out for Velma. Velma frowned in concern when she felt the other woman shaking.

"Are you alright?" Velma squinted her eyes trying to tell if she had somehow hurt the other woman. Daphne's hands guided Velma up until her legs rested on either side of Daphne's shoulders, pushing her skirt up.

"I'm fine." Daphne assured rubbing at Velma's thighs. "I'm going to show you how fine."

"What do- oh god." Velma gasped when Daphne pushed her panties aside and dove her tongue right into the soaked folds of Velma's pussy. She knew she had been getting wet fucking Daphne with her tongue but had not realized how wet until the other woman had pushed her soaked panties aside and she felt slick slide from them down her thighs. Velma pushed in embarrassment but could not pull away as Daphne held her thighs open and started to suck the fluids from Velma's cunt. Velma brought one hand up to her mouth to muffle the sounds she was making while the other dropped to tangle in Daphne's hair. She did not try to guide the other woman but did start rolling her hips and relying on the other woman for balance.

"Daph- oh dear god- Daph maybe- fuck. Daph please listen to me." Velma tried while the other woman's tongue continued twisting within her tightening core and her legs started to tremble attempting to hold her weight up. Daphne gave a small hum to acknowledge she could hear the other woman but did not stop fucking her tongue into the passage that grew tighter and tighter with each thrust of her tongue. "I don't know that I can hold myself up much longer."

Daphne looked up from where she had been staring intently at Velma's cunt to see the other woman panting and biting her lip. Daphne's lips curled and she suddenly pushed out against Velma's legs forcing the other woman to fully sit on her face while she fucked her tongue deeper into Velma's cunt.

Velma cried out in surprise as her entire body tensed up. She arched and attempted to pull away from the other woman but Daphne only held on tighter and continued fucking her through her orgasm until Velma was gasping for mercy. Daphne pulled away and carefully wiped the tears from her eyes and peppered kisses along her cheeks.

"I love you." Daphne whispered and Velma gasped.

"Jinkies." Velma struggled to catch her breath. She lightly chewed on her lip before leaning close and pressing a soft kiss to Daphne's cheek. "I love you too."

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part One

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: You don't show up to a meeting or report for other duties as a Spider Society member because of your period. Your boss shows up to your apartment. Word Count: 5,144 Warning: A little bit of angst?; Mention of death; menstruation, cramps A/N: There's multiple pieces of fan art for this fic. If you'd like to check it out, you can find everything linked in my masterlist! Masterlist Music Inspo (Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage Next Part

Part One

You were recruited four months ago into the Spider Society. Ever since the beginning, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards the leader and founder of the society. You learned quickly about his past and the way he carried himself these days.

Miguel O’Hara worked day and night. If he wasn’t in his lab working on something, he was out on missions with a select few members or on his own. There were days that you wouldn’t even see him. You wondered if anyone did on those days. You told yourself to mind your business. It’s not like you were friends and you hardly interacted anyway. You were a member of the Spider Society but one of the newest ones. You weren’t part of the most trusted members for Miguel.

And yet… There was something. You felt a need to look after him. You couldn’t understand it. You wanted to chalk it up to interest. Maybe you found his story interesting. How a man had simply replaced a version of himself in another universe to be a father, only to lose her when that universe collapsed. How heartbroken and guilt-filled he was over it. That had to be it, you told yourself. It was just intrigue. 

You figured that if you just gave in to your interest, it would go away eventually. It would fade away… So, you allowed yourself to be interested. You showed up to meetings earlier than anyone else when Miguel scheduled them. You stopped by the cafeteria to pick up coffee cups beforehand and arrived at the meeting earlier. You came in, looking unbothered and uninterested as you placed the cup of coffee in front of him, greeting him.

“The cafeteria staff gave me another cup, and I didn’t know what to do with it,” you’d say as he looked up with an uninterested look on his face.

You’d walk away and take a seat a few chairs away, picking up the nicely done reports he provided at every meeting. You did this every week with a different excuse each time. You didn’t know if he ever wondered why the cafeteria staff gave you so much coffee since that was usually your excuse. You doubted he even cared; you were just another member.

The first few times, you noticed the cup would sit in the same exact spot you’d leave it. Miguel wouldn’t even acknowledge it after looking up at you. You still brought it each week. After some weeks, he wouldn’t even look up when you placed the cup in front of him on the desk but – he started giving you a small grunt of acknowledgement. You’d walk away with a little grin, quickly putting it away when you sat down on your usual seat so he wouldn’t notice it.

Then about two weeks later, you saw it. As he was going over the reports and listening to Ben Reilly ramble on about his past because of some anomaly he caught that week, he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. You looked away as you felt his gaze about to turn to you. The reports looked very interesting indeed.

All throughout this, you also started showing up to his lab after he and Jessica requested to see you about a mission. You noticed there was quite a mess of gadgets lying around. You offered to organize it, as it is something you enjoy and are good at. You didn’t even know why you offered but Jessica seemed eager about the idea while Miguel frowned.

“Oh, come on, Miguel. Some organization around here wouldn’t hurt, you know? Look at this mess,” Jessica said looking around, pointing at different areas cluttered with all sorts of tech pieces.

“Fine,” Miguel said as he walked away, apparently done with the conversation.

Jessica beamed at you. She seemed to like you a lot since you did your job well and didn’t get into any drama. You were like the perfect pupil. You nodded at her, with a warm smile.

So that’s how you ended up showing up once a week to Miguel’s lab to do some organizing. You show up and organize as he works on something. Sometimes he is up in the air on his platform, going through monitors. You simply greet him as you arrive before you begin organizing and cleaning. Sometimes there is no response, other times there is just a “hmm”.

These visits have led to Lyla taking a liking to you. She often asks you questions as you work while Miguel is there. You don’t know if he pays attention to what Lyla and you talk about. You honestly doubt he even listens. He is always so engrossed in what he is doing.

Lyla definitely makes the time pass faster. It isn’t like you wanted it to but the silence in the lab is… off sometimes. Lyla asks you all sorts of things like whether you have plans for that weekend, if you enjoy a certain activity because other spider members enjoy it, if you like a certain food, or how missions have gone, etc. It is always something different. You respond to her questions as you work. You are fast and efficient.

You never miss a week, and you are never late as you have made it a habit to show up at the same time. Except this week that is. You started your period and this month is kicking your butt with excruciating cramps and lower back pain. You barely make it to your home after patrolling your city, sliding into bed in pain.

You dig through your nightstand, looking for the specific medicine you take to take care of this even if it makes you extremely drowsy and dizzy. You take it and lie down, hoping it will help right away as you groan in pain. You lie in bed, clutching your stomach. The medicine definitely makes you drowsy and dizzy, but it doesn’t seem to help much with the pain. You pass out a few times but wake up again, the pain too much.

You’re so out of it that you don’t notice the time. You don’t remember the day. You don’t notice the sun out behind your closed blinds. You don’t hear a multidimensional portal open in your small apartment living room. You don’t register the heavy footsteps that move through your apartment. Your eyes are closed, hands clutching your stomach, soft groans escaping your lips. You don’t see the large shadow moving through your room until the last second.

“Go away,” you say weakly, thinking someone has broken into your home.

Despite your pain, despite feeling drowsy and dizzy, your mind still has the time to find this funny. The one day you feel like absolute crap is the day someone decides to break into your apartment. And you’re Spider-Woman! How ironic, you think. Let them take whatever they want, you think, as long as they don’t hurt you.

However, you are surprised when you feel a warm and heavy hand pressed to your forehead.

“No fever,” the voice says stating it as a fact.

You continue to clutch your stomach, eyes closed. Unbeknownst to you as you lay in bed in and out of it, a man is in your apartment. His height towers over you in bed.

Miguel O’Hara is in your apartment… Checking on you. He stares down at you as you lay in bed. He sees you clutching your stomach and as he observes carefully, he sees no injury. There is no sight of blood either. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. You are clearly in pain but why? He turns to your nightstand, noticing the bottle of pills. He inspects it. Painkillers…

His eyebrows furrow further as he realizes what it could be. He walks to your bathroom to confirm. His suspicion is confirmed when he takes a look at your garbage can, spotting the plastic wraps of feminine products. His suspicion is further confirmed when he sees a pack of feminine products on the counter, ready for easy access.

“Coño,” he says quietly as he realizes his suspicion is true.

He walks out of your bathroom, looking at your shape in the bed. You are still clutching your stomach and soft groans escape from your lips ever so often. Miguel remembers the days he used to take care of his wife before everything collapsed. It was a long time since he had even thought about doing that for a woman, but his mind started remembering everything he did to ease his wife’s pain each month. He stood there, thinking before he walked out of your bedroom and into the one room that was the kitchen, the living room, and dining room all at once… New York apartments, Miguel thought, as he took in your apartment.

You were organized and clean, but that didn’t surprise Miguel. You did organize the lab each week with such ease despite Lyla peppering you with questions the entire time. Your apartment was warm with its colors. It gave the impression of someone happy and warm. Miguel noticed a bookshelf in the part of the apartment that plays the living room. It is filled with so many books that you have some stacked horizontally over the vertical ones. An avid reader, Miguel thinks before he heads to your kitchen.

It is clean for the most part except for a plate and a cup. Miguel searches through your kitchen, looking for something specific. He returns to your room, looking through your drawers looking for something else. A few minutes later, he returns to your bedroom. You lay still. Seems that you have passed out at last. With ease, Miguel slides some homemade socks with warm rice under your sweatshirt. He places one on your stomach and the other one on your back.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips, letting Miguel know his idea was somewhat successful despite it being homemade. He gives you one more look before heading out to your living room.

He doesn’t even know why he came. All he knows is that you didn’t show up to organize the lab like you did each week. You didn’t show up to the morning meeting either. Jessica hadn’t heard from you in hours and there was no activity from your gizmo.

A few hours later, you wake up from your slumber. You yawn and stretch your body gently. You lay in bed for a few seconds, realizing your pain is gone. Now you just feel the exhaustion that comes from having a period. You sit up in bed slowly, feeling something on your stomach. You look down. Your sweatshirt is tucked into your shorts on both sides. You untuck it and two socks filled with something slide out. You furrow your eyebrows as you lift them up to inspect closer. You bring them to your nose.

“Rice…” you say, recognizing the specific scent of rice. Your eyebrows furrow but you shrug. You don’t even remember getting up to make these, but you thank yourself for doing it despite being out of it. You get up from bed slowly and check the time. It’s already evening. You decide to take a shower to ease your muscles.

Your shower is hot. You fill the bathroom with fog, but it doesn’t matter. It makes you feel like a million bucks when you get into fresh clothes, all shower and fresh. You head out of your bedroom to get something to drink and that’s when you see it. The lamps in the living room are on, there is music playing from your record player. You look confused as you step out further.

“Mierda,” you hear an annoyed male voice, causing you to jump a little.

You turn to the voice, located in the kitchen and find…

“Miguel?” you say slowly but with confusion as you find him with his back to you.

He stands in front of one of your kitchen cabinets, holding it open. There’s a screwdriver in his hand. He turns around at your voice.

“Y/N… You’re awake,” he says turning fully around now.

You take him in. He’s in his suit as always. You’ve wondered many times if he ever just dresses in casual clothes since he’s always in his suit. He stands tall, of course, and you can’t help but think how he makes your already small kitchen look ten times smaller than it is with him standing there. You rub your eyes, making sure this isn’t just some hallucination.

“Um- you are here,” you say looking at him again.

Miguel nods, turning back around to the cabinet. You watch as he uses the screwdriver. You remember then. Your loose cabinet that has been a pain in the butt for months now. You look around the place. There were some dishes in your sink, or at least you remember there being some but now they’re gone. You notice the trash was taken out. Clean dishes were put away. And to your surprise, there’s food on the stove. There’s also a sweet scent lingering in the air that you cannot pinpoint right now.  

“You feel better?” Miguel asks, with his back still to you as he finishes fixing the cabinet.

“Yes. A lot better, actually…” you say as you cross your arms across your chest, finding this situation so strange.

Miguel turns around to face you now. He looks at you before looking down at the screwdriver in his hand. The screwdriver looks like a toy in his hand, you notice.

“Yeah, well…” Miguel starts, looking up at you again. “Jessica was worried about you. She said you didn’t report to the meeting we had this morning. She asked if you had gone to my lab to organize it and when I told her no, she grew worried something had happened to you since she also noticed no activity from your gizmo. She wanted to come herself and check on you, but the baby kept her busy today. She asked me to come in and check for her.”

I nod, realizing that makes perfect sense. Jessica has grown fond of you after all, you just never realized she was that fond of you.

“Well, thank you for checking in on me for her. I’ll be sure to thank her tomorrow,” you say looking around the kitchen again.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Miguel says, putting the screwdriver down on the counter. It looks normal sized again. You raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t like it when people thank for her… caring. If you want to thank her, just get her a coffee and tell her you appreciate her mentorship,” Miguel explains, resting his hands on his hips.

You nod slowly, maybe it was better to just thank her for everything instead of just this act. You sigh.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, scratching your neck softly. “Did she also tell you to fix my cabinet, or did that just bother you so much?”

Miguel’s face remains void of any expression. You wanted to ask about the homemade socks with rice since it became apparent to you that you weren’t responsible for them, but you kept your mouth shut.

“I was looking for – rice when I noticed your loose cabinet and other messed up things around here. You have a shitty landlord or something?” he asks, looking around.

You shrug. “Yeah, but the rent is good.”

“You’re not exactly strapped for cash, are you?”

You shake your head. It was true. You had some money. You could afford to move somewhere else where the landlords were better but…

“Why are you still here then?” Miguel asks.

His question is laced with interest, and you can’t help but think about how this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him since… meeting each other. And even then, that conversation was probably about three minutes long. You avert your gaze from him, looking at the wall nearest to you. Your eyes land on a single picture amongst many.

You lost your Peter three years ago, just like many of your spider colleagues. Losing him has been the hardest thing you have ever experienced. You have been punched till the air was knocked out of you, you have laid in ruble with buildings crushed over you, and you have been on the verge of death many times, but nothing has ever nor will ever compare to the pain and grief of losing Peter.

As you look at the picture of Peter and you, the one you took the first day you moved into this apartment, you think about all the memories in this apartment. It was all the two of you could afford back then but you two loved it. It was your place. It was the first time you were living together, and it didn’t matter much that it was a little rundown. You guys just wanted a place to live together. You two made it what it is now. A warm and happy place where you two could come home after a long day of work. You spent hours thinking of how to decorate it. Choosing the right and most affordable couch, choosing the wallpaper, choosing where the furniture went.

In the end, it had turned into a beautiful apartment. It was a haven for the two of you but what mattered the most was that you shared it with him, your Peter. You sigh, feeling overwhelmed by the loss again. You had moved on, of course. You had to. How else would you live otherwise? And you had promised Peter you would. Your mind is overwhelmed by the sudden memories as he laid in your arms. He had been crushed by ruble during an attack by a villain, his body was weak, his eyes glistened as they looked at you. You remember caressing his face and hair. He loved it when you did that. He always said it was the perfect way to soothe his nerves. The perfect way to get him to relax and nap after a stressful day.

Your own eyes were filled with tears as you saw it. The way his life was slowly leaving his body. What hurt a million times more, if it was even possible to hurt that much, was that you knew he knew. He knew that was it. There was no turning back. There was no miracle. There was no secret medicine or miracle serum that could make him get up and walk away from this unscathed. That was it.

You held him in your arms, rubble all around you. He looked at your eyes, his own hazy, as you caressed his face and hair. He gave you a gentle smile as he reassured you, he was okay.

“You will move on, right, baby?” he asked you, his voice indicating how little time there was left. “You have to… You must promise me you will. This city depends on you.”

You nodded your head and unable to hold them back any longer, your tears spilled down your face. You remember how some of your tears had landed on his pale yet still beautiful face.

“You must promise me, out loud, darling. Please,” he said, struggling more to get his words out.

“I promise. I promise I will try my best…” you said, and he had nodded. He looked satisfied with your response.

“You must continue – you are my hero. You always have been. And you are the love of my life, darling… I only wish we had more time. That I had more time to make you happier… To make you, my wife. Please – promise me you will be open to other loves,” he had gasped out.

You shook your head. That was impossible. How could you fall for someone else when Peter was the love of your life? Peter, noticing your reluctance, lifted his hand weakly to your face. Despite everything, he was still trying to comfort you. You felt something in you break further. He wiped your tears and gave you a weak yet comforting smile.

“Please promise me you will allow yourself to love again… If there is someone out there that makes you feel like that, please promise me you won’t shut them out. Please, love, promise me,” he said, looking at your eyes and cleaning your tears away.

His voice was weaker, and you noticed his chest was beginning to rise slower and slower. The time was running out…

“I promise I will. I will open my heart if someone comes along but I promise I will never stop loving you, Peter,” you had answered, trying to make him happy in his last minutes. He smiled at you, sweetly, and thanked you. You held him close to you, breathing in his scent. You tried to hold on to his warmth desperately. You clung to him, like you could defend him from Death herself. Like you could defy her this one time.

You cried your soul out as his heartbeat ceased to beat. You cried out as his body became limped in your arms. You cried as his chest stopped moving. You cried, cried, and cried as you held him close to you like your tears and grip could bring him back.

You cursed Death.

You often worried about hurting Peter if something happened to you. You never counted on Peter being the one who left too soon.

You inhale shakily. Your vision has become blurred with tears as you continue to stare at the picture on the wall. You turn around, remembering that Miguel is there. You wipe your tears discreetly. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to force it down. Otherwise, the moment you speak, your tears will flow. You clear your throat.

“It doesn’t really bother me – and besides, I spend a lot of time out,” you finally say, sounding somewhat normal now. Though the ache is there, deep in your chest. It’s like someone stabbed you in the heart with a wooden stick and left a small piece of it stuck. It always hurts, it always aches.

Miguel doesn’t reply as you turn back around, feeling more in control of yourself. However, you can see something in his eyes. Perhaps understanding? You guessed he probably knew to some extent what had happened to you. It was a canon event for all spider-people. To lose someone.

“Have you eaten anything?” Miguel asks suddenly, dropping the apartment conversation probably for your own sake.

You shake your head. It was hours since you had eaten something. Since yesterday, really.

“There’s some food here. Let me…” he says trailing off, turning around to get a plate from a cabinet. You can’t help but feel a little surprised at how fast he learned his way around the kitchen. Then again, it’s not that large you realize. You approach the kitchen island and take a seat on one of the two island chairs as Miguel turns around with a plate of pasta. Your eyebrows raise in surprise. It is one of your comfort foods. Miguel slides it over to you, gently. A fork is already on it, ready for you.

You slide the plate closer, the scent of it making your stomach growl instantly. You’re definitely hungry.

“Thank you,” you say before you dig in. You can’t help but smile with satisfaction. It is amazing. “This is really good.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything, just watches you. You eat some more, feeling a bit self-conscious as you feel his gaze on you, but you ignore it. Or try to.

“So, are you a really great cook or is pasta one of the few things you can cook?” you ask, slowing down on your eating, trying to fill in the silence.

Miguel shrugs. “My mother taught me how to cook when I was a teenager. It stuck.”

You nod, still eating. “Great skill to have, really… It helped me and –“ you pause, realizing you were about to mention Peter. You swallow. “It helped Peter and I when we were in college,” you finish, looking down at your plate.

A hint of a smile forms on your face as you remember Peter and you cooking for the week over the weekends. You guys lived separately but shared groceries to help each other out. It saved you guys a lot of time and money and brought the two of you closer.

“It is a great skill to have,” Miguel agrees quietly as you continue to eat, looking down at your plate.

You nod silently as you finish eating. You look up at Miguel, he’s looking down at the counter. His hands are flat against the counter, and he looks lost in his own thoughts. You can’t help but take this time to look at him. The sight of him in your kitchen is really something. You think about how great he is at these things like looking after a woman when they’re on their period or cooking. You want to facepalm yourself as you realize it’s obvious he would be good at these things. He did have a wife and daughter at one point, you remind yourself. You look down at your plate.

“Oh, I made this for you, too,” Miguel says at last, breaking the silence.

You look up curiously, wondering what else he had made. He turns around towards the stove and you watch carefully as he retrieves a mug from one of the cabinets. Again, you feel surprised seeing how he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for. It disappears from your view in front of him and you hear him pour something. He turns around again, holding one of your mugs. Whatever it is, is hot as you can see steam from the top. He sets the mug down on the counter and slides it over to you. Again, his movements are gentle. You lean forward and reach for it.

“Careful. It’s hot,” he warns, as you pull the mug towards you gently.

The scent fills your nostrils quickly and you recognize the sweet scent that met you earlier when you exited your bedroom. You look up at him.

“Canelita,” you say, grinning.

Miguel nods. “Growing up, my mom said it helped with cramps. It used to help my…” he trails off.

You nod. “Yeah, my grandma used to say that, too.” You pause as you inhale the sweetness of cinnamon. “Thank you…” you reply, with sincerity, still meeting his eyes.

Miguel only nods. You drink the warm liquid, enjoying the warmth that spreads down your throat, chest, and finally your stomach. As it settles in your stomach, you feel warm and cozy.

Miguel clears his throat then and looks down at his gizmo. “Well – I should get going. I have some things to catch up on,” he says turning his attention back to you.

You nod as you place the mug on the counter gently and get up. He walks out of the kitchen portion and heads to the middle of the room. He starts clicking on his gizmo, presumably starting a multidimensional portal. You walk towards him, leaving some distance, of course. He looks up at you as the portal appears in the middle of your apartment behind him.

You clear your throat. “Hey – I just wanted to say thank you… For everything. I know Jessica asked you to check up on me, but you did much more than that. I truly appreciate it,” you say, hoping that you’re fully expressing how grateful you are.

You can’t help but think about how you’d probably still be in bed right now. Miguel nods.

“It’s no problem…” Miguel replies, though he looks like he wants to say more. You watch, waiting but he just stares back with little emotion until he nods at you and turns around. He starts walking into the portal. The bright lights coming from the portal create shadows in your apartment. You watch wordlessly until he looks behind his shoulder. “Don’t forget – don’t mention it to Jessica. She can be weird about being thanked sometimes.”

You nod. “I won’t bring it up, no worries. Thank you again. Enjoy your night!” you call out and he just nods before he disappears into the portal. The portal disappears a few seconds after him, taking away its shadows with it.

You sigh as you stand there for a few more seconds before taking a seat again on the counter island. You drink more canelita, still cherishing the warm feeling. You look at the stove. Everything is in containers and there’s no sight of dirty pans, pots, or utensils.

“Cooked and washed the dishes…” you say to yourself before taking a sip again.

Your attention turns to the cabinet you found him fixing earlier. You get up and walk towards it. You open it with no issue. You think about all the little nicks this kitchen has. Like the drawer that doesn’t come out fully or the other cabinet door that makes a noise every time you open it. Curiosity gets the best of you because before you know it, you are pulling said drawer. Your lips part in surprise as the drawer fully slides out without issues. You check the other cabinet door. No sound.

You sigh as you look around, your eyes landing on the containers. One of them is full of leftover pasta and the other one contains the canelita. Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear your gizmo go off. You turn in the direction it came from, trying to remember where you left it last night. You are usually very careful with it but last night you barely made it through the door.

You find the gizmo on the console table in the living room section of your apartment. You realize there are a few messages from your colleagues like Hobie, Miles, Ben, and Jessica. You quickly reply to the first three who asked about your whereabouts before you move to Jessica’s. You realize she sent multiple messages all ranging from asking how your last mission went to why you weren’t answering to asking if you were okay. The last one makes you stop. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you read it.

“Okay… You haven’t replied to any of my messages. Do I need to send someone to check on you? You’ve been MIA all day. Let me know you’re okay!!”

You look up towards where the portal was opened just minutes ago. You shake your head and reply to Jessica, notifying her about what happened. You leave out Miguel though. You put away your gizmo in its usual spot and look around your apartment, thinking. The lamps in the living room section are still on, the record player has stopped playing, however.

“Hm.”

--------------------------------------------- Translation for italicized words: Coño - fuck (it varies by country) Mierda - Shit Canelita - a tea made out of cinnamon sticks

Next Part

A/N: Might do part two. If it matters, I listened to "Nonviolent Communication" from the ATSV album as inspiration. Such a lovely song for Miguel, I think.

I love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

[iamalasagnagirl]

Pls, pls, pls I need more WLW book recommendations!!!

Adults, YA, spicy, soft, I don’t care. I just need wlw books because I want to switch from fanfics only to actual books as well

Okay, here we are, enjoy :)

Bright Falls Series by Ashley Herring Blake: 1. Delilah Green Doesn't Care -> Delilah Green swore she would never go back to Bright Falls - nothing is there for her except memories of a lonely childhood - but when Delilah's stepsister pressures her into photographing her wedding with a guilt trip and a large check, Delilah finds herself back in Bright Falls once more. She plans to breeze in and out, but then she sees Claire Sutherland, one of Astrid's stuck-up besties, and decides that maybe there's some fun (and a little retribution) to be had, after all. 2. Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail -> For Astrid Parker failure is unacceptable. When Pru Everwood asks her to be the designer for the Everwood Inn's renovation, which will be featured on a hugely popular home makeover show, Astrid is thrilled. However, Astrid never planned on Jordan Everwood, Pru's granddaughter and the lead carpenter for the renovation, who despises every modern design decision Astrid makes. Is she going to pursue the life that she's expected to lead or the one that she really wants? 3. Iris Kelly doesn't date -> Everyone around Iris Kelly is in love and she’s happy for all of them, truly. Iris doesn’t want any of that—dating, love, romance. She’ll stick to her commitment-free hookups. There’s only one problem—Iris is a romance author facing an imminent deadline for her second book, and she’s completely out of ideas. Perfectly happy to ignore her problems as per usual, Iris goes to a bar and meets a sexy stranger, Stefania, and a night of dancing and making out turns into the worst one-night stand Iris has had in her life. To get her mind off everything, Iris tries out for the lead role in a local play, a queer retelling of Much Ado About Nothing, but comes face-to-face with Stefania, whose real name turns out to be Stevie. Desperate to save face in front of her friends, Stevie asks Iris to play along as her girlfriend. Iris is shocked, but when she realizes the arrangement might provide her with some much-needed romantic content for her book, she agrees. As the two women play the part of a happy couple, lines start to blur.

Falls from grace by Ruby Landers -> Savannah Grace and her band were huge stars in Nashville. Now enlists Noah Lyman - an indie musician - to help her break out of country music and make a name for herself for once and for all. They have to spend the winter in Savannah secluded vacation home in the woods of Vermont, and Noah brings along his best friend Brynn Marshall and pretend she’s his wife? After all, what could possibly go wrong?

The secret of you and me by Melissa Lenhardt -> Nora hasn’t looked back. Not since she fled Texas to start a new life. Now she can live—and love—however she wants. The only problem is that she also left behind the one woman she can’t forget. Now tragedy calls her back home to confront her past—and reconcile her future.

Books by Haley Cass: - Those Who Wait and the follow-up Forever and A Day -> Spencer Sutton, the daughter of a congressman, and Charlotte Thompson, New York City’s youngest deputy mayor, meet on SapphicSpark, a women-seeking-women dating app. Sutton isn’t built for casual, and Charlotte needs to keep a low profile as the race heats up. In spite of that, a friendship blossoms as Charlotte helps Sutton navigate the dating world. - Down to A Science -> Ellie Beckett is a scientific genius finishing a Ph.D. at MIT, sitting on her stool at her favorite bar, putting the final touches on her thesis - her life is predictable and comfortable enough, until the night Mia Sharpe walks in to play pool with some friends and things are never the same again. and On the same Page -> Riley Beckett met Gianna Mäkinen their first year at Boston University, and it changed everything for the both of them. She knows Gianna doesn't do romance or relationships, and she knows nothing could ever come between them. But when a holiday party mix-up sets in motion a domino effect of changes, Riley has to question everything she thought she knew about their relationship. What, exactly, does Gianna mean to her after all? - In the Long Run -> Taylor Vandenberg is busy running a successful travel blog. Brooke Watson and Taylor’s younger brother have been best friends for the majority of their lives. It means that even if Taylor isn’t physically present, she’s always been a part of Brooke’s most monumental life experiences. When Taylor lands back in Faircombe for an extended stay, it leads to more run-ins than Brooke would like. And more feelings than either may want to admit. - When You Least Expect It & Better Than Expected (I haven't had a chance to read them yet, but I have seen them recommended a lot)

If tomorrow doesn't come by Jen St. Jude -> On the morning Avery Byrne plans to end her life, the world discovers there are only nine days left to live: an asteroid is headed for Earth, and no one can stop it. As time runs out and secrets slowly come to light, Avery fights her way home to save the girl she has been in love with her whole life. But can Avery also learn to save herself and find hope again in the tomorrows she has left?

Kiss her once for me by Alison Cochrun -> Ellie had a Christmas Eve meet-cute with a woman at a bookstore that led her to fall in love over the course of a single night. The next year, Andrew, the shop’s landlord where Ellie works, proposes a shocking, drunken plan: a marriage of convenience that will benefit both of them. They make a plan to spend the holidays together at his family cabin to keep up the ruse. But when Andrew introduces his new fiancée to his sister, Ellie is shocked to discover is the mysterious woman she fell for over the year before.

6 times we almost kissed (and one time we did) by Tess Sharpe -> Penny and Tate keep almost kissing. It’s just this confusing thing that keeps happening. You know, from time to time. For basically their entire teenaged existence.  They’ve never talked about it. They’ve always ignored it in the aftermath. But now they’re living across the hall from each other. And some things—like their kisses—can’t be almosts forever. 

Nottingham: the true story of Robin Hood by Anna Burke -> (A retelling of Robin Hood's story with a Female Robin and wlw couples) After a fateful hunting accident sends her on the run from the law, Robyn finds herself deep in the heart of Sherwood Forest. All she really wants to do is provide for her family and stay out of trouble, but when the Sheriff of Nottingham levies the largest tax in the history of England, she’s forced to take matters into her own hands. Relying on the help of her band of merry women and the Sheriff’s intriguing—and off limits—daughter, Marian, Robyn must find a way to pull off the biggest heist Sherwood has ever seen.

Forget me not by Alyson Derrick -> Stevie has a terrible fall. And when she comes to, she can remember nothing of the last two years—not California, not coming to terms with her sexuality, not even her girlfriend Nora. Suddenly, Stevie finds herself in a life she doesn’t quite understand. And Nora finds herself…forgotten.

It goes like this by Miel Moreland -> Eva, Celeste, Gina, and Steph used to play in world-famous queer pop band called Moonlight Overthrow. But after a sudden falling out leads to the dissolution of the teens' band, their friendship, and Eva and Celeste's starry-eyed romance, nothing is the same. Until a storm devastates their hometown, bringing the four ex-best-friends back together. As they prepare for one last show, they'll discover whether growing up always means growing apart.

Dominion Series by J J Arias: 1. Losing Control  -> Talent agent Adriana Ortiz’s world is rocked when she’s thrust into the tumultuous orbit of Roxy, the raw, enigmatic pop rebel with a notorious edge and a guarded heart. Tasked with steering the wild Roxy on a whirlwind tour, Adriana boards Roxy’s opulent tour bus. The nights are filled with roaring crowds, but it’s the electric tension between Roxy and Adriana that sets the air on fire. A forbidden connection that threatens to consume them. Is the wild, unbridled Roxy worth the risk to Adriana’s career, or is she just another woman falling victim to Roxy’s charms? 2. Fighting for Control  -> Lola Barros is a rising talent agent burning with ambition. Carmen Vargas is a dedicated lawyer poised to conquer the legal field. Their shared high-rise is the only thing these two powerhouses have in common. After a trivial parking mishap snowballs onto a full-blown feud, Lola and Carmen are thrust into unconventional anger management sessions and their fiery rivalry gives way to smoldering desire. But yielding to desire isn't straightforward. Between the shadows of demanding careers and familial expectations, their love is tested. Can Lola and Carmen find a balance between ambition and affection? 3. Relinquishing Control  -> Natalia Flores rules her exclusive talent agency with an iron fist, brokering blockbuster deals while keeping everyone at arm’s length. But beneath the cold exterior lies a heart that yearns to be understood. Enter Professor Samantha Reyes—brilliant, fierce, and unwilling to let Natalia manipulate her way into the film rights to her book. Their encounters spark with tension and undeniable chemistry. In a world where control is everything, can two powerful women let go of their fears to find a love that’s worth the risk?

11:59 by Erica Lee -> TJ Edmonds has created a whole brand around not getting attached to other people. She has a best-selling novel and a popular phone app both dedicated to helping people stay detached from their significant others, so they don't get hurt. But the only reason she can move on so quickly now is because she still hasn't let go of someone from her past. It's easy to guard her heart when she no longer has it to give away. TJ texts Brooke everyday at 11:59 pm with no answers. What happens when, in a moment of weakness, this someone reaches out to TJ?

Price and Prejudice and the city by Rachel Lippincott -> Seventeen-year-old Audrey Cameron has lost her spark. After an embarrassing run-in with her ex-boyfriend, she’s told that she needs to get back out there and take risks. What she doesn't expect is to be transported to Regency England! Lucy Sinclair has her own problems when Audrey lands into her life, claiming to be from two hundred years in the future, it's a welcome distraction.

Never ever getting back together by Sophie Gonzales -> Maya and Skye are invited to star on the reality dating show Second-Chance Romance, to compete for their now famous ex-boyfriend's affections while the whole world watches. Skye wonders if she and Jordy can recapture the spark she knows they had, but Maya has other plans.

The art of us by KL Hughes -> Charlee and Alex fell in love at nineteen and dated for four years. Theirs was an enviable love — evergreen and growing. Unbreakable…Until it broke. Alex’s job now brings her back to Boston, after five years. When, by chance, they meet again, Charlee and Alex are swept up in a whirlwind of heart-rending history, tossed between past and present, and lovers old and new. Will their lingering connection be enough to convince them that some loves are meant to last? Or should the past remain in the past?

That secret something by Emily Wright -> Rebecca Lawson is off-limits. Jess knows this, but Rebecca has captured her heart for as long as she can remember. She’s sporty, tall and confident—all the things Jess is not—but most of all…she’s her best friend Lily’s sister. But when Jess and Rebecca are forced to spend time together the forbidden feelings intensify and sparks begin to fly. Amidst the chaos of raging bridezillas and other wedding disasters, can Jess resist temptation for the sake of her friendship?

The seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid  -> Aging and reclusive Hollywood movie icon Evelyn Hugo is finally ready to tell the truth about her glamorous and scandalous life. Summoned to Evelyn's luxurious apartment, Monique listens in fascination as the actress tells her story. From making her way to Los Angeles in the 1950s to her decision to leave show business in the '80s, and, of course, the seven husbands along the way

That summer feeling by Bridget Morrissey -> Turns out you're never too old for a summer camp romance. Or a change of heart. When a divorced woman attends a sleepaway camp for adults only, she reconnects with a man from her past - only to catch feelings for his sister instead.

Some of these are my absolute favourites, I've lost count of how many times I've read them. I cannot get enough of "the bright falls series", "One the same page", "Those who wait", "The secret of you and me" and the last entry "Falls From Grace". No matter how many times I read them. And sometimes I wish I could read them again, as if for the first time, if that makes sense. Anyway, I have a lot more titles. Let me know if you want them or not. Enjoy the reading

[from-memphis-with-love]

A Cowboy for Clementine - An Elvis Presley AU Cowboy Fanfic

Summary: Clementine looked to Elvis, her expression coolly determined. "If there's nothing else, I'll go unpack and change. See you at the barn."

With that, Elvis turned on his heel and strode off, spurs jingling. Clementine released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Lord, what had she gotten herself into? Wrangling cattle was one thing. Wrangling a surly cowboy with an itchy trigger finger and an apparent grudge was quite another. She had a feeling this Elvis Presley would prove as untamed as the land itself.

Word count: 26,000 (first four chapters)

Chapter 1

The stagecoach lurched and swayed as it wound its way through the rugged mountain pass. Inside, Clementine Olivetti gripped the worn leather seat, her knuckles white from the effort. She peered out the dust-caked window at the forbidding landscape rolling by—jagged peaks, skeletal trees, sun-baked earth. A far cry from the cobblestone streets and genteel townhouses of New York.

What am I doing out here? Clementine thought, not for the first time since beginning this journey west. Traveling across the country to take ownership of some rustic ranch she'd never laid eyes on, bequeathed by an uncle she barely knew. It was rash, reckless even. Very out of character for the practical, level-headed Clementine. A girl who always had a plan.

But perhaps that was precisely the point. To do something unexpected, impulsive for once. To break free from the comfortable confines of her predictable city life. There was a certain romantic notion to it all—a young woman striking out on her own to start anew in the untamed frontier. Like something out of the dime novels she and her best friend Bonnie used to giggle over late at night.

Bonnie Mae Blakely. Her vivacious partner in crime since childhood. The yin to Clementine's yang—bold where she was cautious, impetuous where she was measured. They had shared so many dreams and secrets over the years. When Clementine told her about the surprise inheritance, Bonnie had squealed and hugged her fiercely.

"Oh Clemmie, it's just like a storybook! A rugged ranch out west, waiting for a plucky heroine to make it her own. Promise you'll write and tell me every adventure! And maybe I'll even come visit once you're all settled." 

Clementine smiled at the memory, picturing Bonnie's pretty face alight with excitement. In truth, having her friend's unconditional support had given Clementine the courage to undertake this journey. To believe she could reinvent herself and start fresh, even without any family left to tether her to New York.

Her parents had passed on years ago and she had no siblings. Just an uncle out west she scarcely remembered from childhood. The letter from the lawyer informing her of Uncle Ned's death and his bequeathing of Windy Creek Ranch had come as a shock. Almost as much as his written words, which she now withdrew from her handbag to read once more:

"Dearest Clementine, 

If you are reading this, then I am gone and the Good Lord has finally called me home. I regret that I did not make more of an effort to be a presence in your life. But know that not a day went by that I did not think of you and wish for your happiness. 

I leave to you my most prized possession: the Windy Creek Ranch. Six hundred and forty acres of prime grazing land nestled in the heart of cattle country. It isn't much to look at, but it has potential. Like a rare gem in the rough just waiting to be polished. I built this spread from nothing, with just grit and determination. I know you have that same strength within you.

There is a small town close by called Crossroads. You'll be able to purchase any supplies there and the townsfolk are generally amiable. But be warned, there have been rumors lately of cattle rustlers and claim jumpers looking to prey on the local ranches. Trust your instincts and keep your wits about you.

I wish I could be there to guide you as you begin this new chapter. But I take comfort knowing the ranch is in capable hands. Take care of it and it will take care of you. Never forget, you are my niece. We are made of tougher stuff than most.

Yours, Uncle Ned"

Clementine folded up the letter, blinking back tears. She barely remembered Uncle Ned—a grizzled, wild-eyed man who would occasionally blow into town like a tumbleweed, his clothes smelling of leather and horses and endless sky. Her father's eldest brother. A dreamer. An adventurer. Everything her straight-laced father was not... and did not approve of. The brothers had a falling out when Clementine was just a girl and Ned rode off into the sunset, never to return. 

She used to envy his freedom, his daring. While her days were filled with needlework and piano lessons, she imagined Uncle Ned out there living a thrilling life. Herding cattle, exploring the wilderness, sitting around a campfire under a canopy of stars. It all seemed terribly romantic to her younger self.

But as she grew older, Clementine came to accept her lot. Became the obedient daughter, always striving to please, to fit the mold of a proper young lady, accepting decisions made for her and on her own behalf. She buried those yearnings for adventure deep down where they couldn't hurt her. Convinced herself that she was content with her sensible, uneventful existence. 

Until that letter arrived and reawakened something within her. A spark. A hunger for more that she could no longer ignore. It was high time Clementine Olivetti started living life on her own terms. Even if that meant venturing into the unknown wilds of cattle country to claim her unexpected inheritance—a ranch that would be hers and hers alone. The prospect both thrilled and terrified her.

The stagecoach hit a particularly deep rut, jolting Clementine from her musings. She clutched her carpet bag closer and said a silent prayer that her worldly possessions would survive the journey intact. 

As if reading her thoughts, the driver called out, "Almost there, miss! Crossroads is just up ahead."

Clementine's heart rate quickened. This was it. No turning back now. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and prepared to meet her destiny. Whatever that may be.

The stagecoach rumbled down the main thoroughfare of Crossroads, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. Clementine peered out at the rustic frontier town, all wooden storefronts and hitching posts. Rough-hewn men ambled down the street in dungarees and cowboy hats. Bonneted women swept front porches and corralled children. A distant clang rang out from the blacksmith and the mouthwatering scent of baking bread wafted on the breeze. Quaint yet industrious. A town where everyone knew everyone else's business and no secret stayed buried for long.

The coach rolled to a stop and the driver hopped down to assist Clementine. A few coins were plunked into his hand. She stepped out into the bright sunlight, stretching her travel-weary limbs. Her legs wobbled a bit, unaccustomed to solid ground after so many hours.

"Miss Olivetti?" a voice inquired. Clementine turned to see a short, wiry man hurrying toward her, his bald pate gleaming.

"Yes, I'm Clementine Olivetti," she replied. 

"Hezekiah Gruber, attorney at law," he said, pumping her hand enthusiastically. "We exchanged telegrams about your inheritance. My condolences for your loss."

"Thank you, Mr. Gruber. It was a shock to us all."

"Your uncle was one of a kind, that's for sure. Now then, I imagine you're eager to get out to the ranch and take possession. I won't keep you but let's get your signature on a few documents at my office to make it all official-like."

Clementine followed him down the creaking wooden sidewalk to the lawyer's storefront, noting the curious glances directed her way. She was used to it—a fashionable girl with a funny surname drew attention even back east. She could only imagine the gossip her arrival would stir up here.

"Here we are," said Gruber, ushering her into his cluttered office. "Won't take but a minute to get you squared away." 

He shuffled some papers on his desk and handed Clementine a pen. She dutifully signed her name on the dense lines of legalese, the gravity of the moment not lost on her. With a few strokes of ink, she was now the rightful owner of Windy Creek Ranch. Her future.

"It's all yours, Miss Olivetti," said Gruber, blotting the documents. "I'll file these with the deed office today. In the meantime, let's get you on your way to your new home. I'll have Jebediah bring 'round the rig."

"The rig?" asked Clementine, perplexed. 

"For your baggage. Unless you were planning to carry those trunks to the ranch yourself?" 

Clementine blushed. Of course. This wasn't New York where deliveries arrived directly at one's doorstep. What would Bonnie say if she could see her now, preparing to rattle off in a dusty wagon toward an uncertain future? Probably clap her hands in glee and tell her it was the start of a grand adventure, the kind they'd always dreamed of having.

"Much obliged, Mr. Gruber," Clementine managed, her smile bittersweet. "I'm afraid I have a lot to learn about life out here."

"You'll get the hang of it," he assured. "Now remember, if you run into any trouble out there at Windy Creek, you just send word. I've been looking out for the place since your uncle took ill. I'd hate to see it fall into the wrong hands."

Something in his tone gave Clementine pause. Was that a note of warning? But before she could inquire further, Gruber had ushered her out into the dazzling daylight where a rickety wagon waited. 

A grizzled old man sat hunched on the bench. He squinted at Clementine and gave a gap-toothed grin. "All aboard for Windy Creek Ranch!"

Trepidation pricked at her insides but Clementine forced a smile, determined to meet each new challenge with pluck and poise. She clambered up beside Jebediah, her trunk secured in the wagon bed.

"Much obliged," she told the driver. He clicked his tongue and snapped the reins. The mules lurched forward and they set off at a bone-rattling pace. Clementine gripped the sideboard, already regretting her choice of footwear. Perhaps button-up kid boots weren't the most practical for a cross-country trek.

The road out of town quickly turned to a rutted dirt track winding through a patchwork of ranches and farmsteads. Jebediah kept up a steady stream of chatter, pointing out local landmarks and the neighboring spreads.

As Crossroads receded behind them, the landscape opened up into a vista of endless grassland and rolling hills. Herds of cattle grazed in the distance, mere specks on the horizon. The air smelled of sage and leather and something else... of possibility. 

"That there's the Circle J, belonged to old Joe Abernathy nigh on forty years 'til he passed on last spring. His boys run it now. And over yonder's the Triple Cross—biggest outfit in the county, but too big for their britches if you ask me."

She thought again of the cryptic warning from Mr. Gruber. Claim jumpers and cattle rustlers, he'd said. The untamed frontier was full of dangers she knew nothing about. As if sensing her unease, Jebediah spoke up.

"Yep, Windy Creek is a right fine piece of property. Yer uncle was real proud of what he built out there. 'Course, ranch life ain't for the faint of heart. Takes grit and know-how to make a go of it."

"I'm a quick study," replied Clementine with more confidence than she felt. "And I'm not afraid of hard work."

"That's good 'cause there'll be plenty of it," said Jebediah with a dry chuckle. "Between the repairs and the brandin' and the drives, ranch folk earn ever' penny of their keep. And that's assumin' the weather cooperates and the rustlers keep their distance."

"I've heard tell of such threats," said Clementine carefully. "Have there been many incidents hereabouts?"

"More'n there oughta be," said Jebediah. "Buncha no-good varmints that'll stop at nothing to line their own pockets. Thievin' cattle, cuttin' fences, raidin' homesteads. Even murderin' folk that get in their way."

Clementine suppressed a shudder, trying not to let her imagination run away with grisly scenarios. If only Bonnie were here to bolster her courage with a saucy quip or two. Her friend had always been the brave one, ready to take on any challenge with a laugh and a toss of her auburn curls. But Bonnie was thousands of miles away, living her own life. This was Clementine's adventure now. Her dream to chase, for better or worse.

"Still, a body can't borrow trouble," continued Jebediah. "Windy Creek's got a solid crew of hands to help you protect what's yours."

Clementine nodded, somewhat reassured. She knew there would be cowhands and ranch staff to assist her, though Uncle Ned's letter had been scarce on specifics. No matter. She would learn everyone's roles and prove herself a capable mistress. How hard could it be?

The wagon crested a hill and suddenly the breathtaking expanse of Windy Creek Ranch stretched out before them—640 acres of pristine range, just like Uncle Ned had said, framed by distant blue mountains under an endless dome of sky. Clementine's heart swelled at the sight of the whitewashed ranch house, the red-roofed barn, the towering windmill spinning lazily in the breeze. Cattle dotted the pasture, fat and healthy. Chickens pecked in the dust and a pair of ranch hands paused in their work to regard the newcomers with frank curiosity. It was more beautiful than she'd dared imagine. Raw and wild and brimming with promise. And it was all hers.

Clementine drank it in, marveling that this was all a part of her uncle's spread. Her spread now. Doubt niggled at her again. What did a city girl know about running a cattle operation? About negotiating with cowhands and driving livestock to market? There was so much to learn, so much riding on her getting this right. She couldn't afford to fail, not when Uncle Ned had entrusted her with his legacy. 

As they rolled to a stop in the front yard, Clementine gathered her skirts, preparing to descend with as much dignity as possible given her ungainly boots and the long journey. But before her foot touched the running board, a rifle shot cracked the air. Clementine yelped as a bullet gouged a tree trunk mere inches from her hand.

Heart pounding, she whirled toward the source to see a tall, black-clad figure emerge from behind the water trough, his features obscured by a low-pulled Stetson. He racked the lever of his Winchester with fluid ease and took aim again.

"That's far enough," he growled, his voice rough as saddle leather. "This here's private property. State your business or hit the road."

"Don't shoot!" cried Clementine, throwing up her hands. "I'm... T-this is my ranch now. I've c-come to take possession."

The man lowered his rifle a fraction but kept it at the ready. "That so? Got any proof?"

With shaking fingers, Clementine fumbled to produce the deed from her handbag. "It's all here. Signed and notarized."

She held out the document but he made no move to take it, his stance unwavering. Clementine bristled at his rudeness. Of all the welcomes she'd imagined, being shot at by her own ranch hand was not one of them.

Jebediah, who had wisely taken cover, peeked out from behind the wagon bench. "Now Elvis, what's the big idea? This here's Miss Clementine, Old Ned’s niece and heir."

Elvis? Clementine looked again at her antagonist. Was he one of the hardworking ranch foreman Uncle Ned had spoken so highly of? He certainly hadn't mentioned the man's alarming propensity for gunplay.

"Never heard of her," said Elvis flatly. "And I ain't about to hand over the keys on the say-so of some pretty city gal. Could be anyone—a rustler scoutin' the place or worse. Ned never said nothin' 'bout no niece."

Clementine scowled at his dismissal. "Yes, well, I suspect there's quite a lot Uncle Ned neglected to mention all around. Starting with the presence of an armed squatter on my property!"

Elvis darkened at that but before he could retort, a hulking bear of a man in a sweat-stained union suit came lumbering out of the barn. 

"What's all the ruckus?" he called, scratching his fiery beard. "I heard shootin'." 

"Stay back, Red," ordered Elvis. "We got us a trespasser."

The big man squinted at Clementine and broke into a slow grin. "Well I'll be hogtied. If it ain't Miss Clementine in the flesh! Spittin' image of ol' Ned, ain't she? 'Specially 'round the eyes."

"You know her?" demanded Elvis.

"'Course I do! Ned's been braggin' on his pretty niece comin' to take over the place for weeks now. Clear 'fore he passed."

Red was a huge bear of a man with a shock of fiery hair and a bushy beard to match. Clementine thought he looked like he could lift a steer with one hand. He stepped forward, his face split by a friendly grin. "Pleased to meetcha, Miss Clementine. I'm Moses Redding, but everyone calls me Red on account of, well..." He gestured to his hair self-consciously.

Clementine couldn't help but return his smile. "A pleasure, Red. I look forward to working with you."

Realization dawned on Elvis' stony features. "Hellfire," he muttered. "Reckon that's my cue to start packin'."

"What on earth are you talking about?" said Clementine.

Elvis met her gaze, resigned. "Way I figure, a fine lady owner ain't gonna want the likes of me hangin' around. Know when I'm not wanted."

Comprehension clicked into place and Clementine gasped. Good lord, Uncle Ned hadn't just failed to mention a few cowhands. He'd neglected to tell her about the man living on the ranch itself! This Elvis character had obviously made himself quite at home in her absence, acting the lord of the manor. And now with her arrival, he assumed he was out of a job and a place to lay his head.

She ought to be livid at the presumption. Ought to send him packing that instant for his insolence and trigger-happy reception. But something in his defeated posture and faraway look stirred an inconvenient pang of sympathy in her breast. Curse her soft heart. As satisfying as it might be to give him his marching orders, the fact remained that Windy Creek was woefully shorthanded. She couldn't afford to lose a single man, especially not one who knew the spread top to bottom. Elvis had been Uncle Ned's right hand. It stood to reason he would be valuable in her transition to ownership, prickly attitude notwithstanding. 

Clementine drew herself up, mustering an air of unruffled authority. "That won't be necessary, Mr... Elvis, was it? I've no intention of displacing anyone, provided they pull their weight. If you've been a loyal employee to my uncle, I see no reason why that should change on my watch."

Surprise and something like relief flickered across Elvis' rugged features before he could school them into impassivity. "That so?"

"It is," said Clementine firmly. "I'll need all hands on deck to keep Windy Creek thriving. Starting with a thorough tour of the premises and a briefing on daily operations. As the new owner, I plan to take a very active role in management."

Elvis looked as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. He gave a curt nod. "Whatever you say, boss lady. Reckon we best start in the barn then. Red can see to your bags."

"Very well," she said crisply. "I'll change into suitable attire and meet you at the barn in half an hour."

Elvis looked mildly impressed by her ready acquiescence, but his expression quickly shuttered. "Suit yourself. But I should probably introduce you to the rest of the gang before you get too high on that horse of yours."

He turned and hollered over his shoulder. "Slim! Rusty! Get on over here!"

Two men materialized from various corners of the ranch yard, ambling over to join them on the porch. The first was a wiry old-timer with a weathered face and a wad of chaw bulging in his cheek. The second was a gangly youth who couldn't have been more than eighteen, all freckles and awkward limbs.

"Boys, this here is Miss Clementine Olivetti," Elvis announced. "Ned's niece and the new owner of Windy Creek. She aims to learn the ropes, so I expect you to show her the same respect you would've shown Ned. We clear?"

The men nodded, touching their hats respectfully. The old-timer spat a stream of tobacco juice and nodded curtly. "Slim Jackson. Been wranglin' beeves since before you was born, missy. You need any pointers, you just holler."

The young man ducked his head shyly, scuffing a boot in the dust. "Rusty Calhoun, miss. I'm real sorry about your uncle passing. He was a fine man and a heck of a boss."

"Thank you, Rusty. I hope I can live up to his example." Clementine turned back to Elvis, her expression coolly determined. "If there's nothing else, I'll go unpack and change. See you at the barn."

With that, Elvis turned on his heel and strode off, spurs jingling. Clementine released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Lord, what had she gotten herself into? Wrangling cattle was one thing. Wrangling a surly cowboy with an itchy trigger finger and an apparent grudge was quite another. She had a feeling Elvis would prove as untamed as the land itself.

But Clementine was no shrinking violet. She had not traveled hundreds of miles to be cowed by one ornery ranch hand, no matter how unsettling his smoky gaze or how broad his shoulders. She would meet this challenge as she intended to meet all others—with grace, gumption, and a stubborn refusal to back down.

*

Elvis looked Clementine up and down appraisingly as she approached.

"Well now, don't you clean up nice," he drawled. "Those dungarees suit you. Almost take the city polish off."

Clementine wasn't sure if it was meant as a compliment or an insult. Likely both, knowing this man. She tilted her chin and replied evenly, "I believe in dressing for the occasion. So, show me around the barn?"

Lifting her chin, Clementine marched after Elvis, determined to assert her authority and begin this new chapter on her own terms. Ranch life was already proving far more complicated and unpredictable than she'd bargained for. But she had to believe that with hard work, an open mind, and perhaps a bit of that famous Olivetti pluck, she would find her way.

She thought fleetingly of Bonnie, no doubt going about her day back in New York, blissfully unaware of the upheaval in her friend's life. What would she make of all this—the sprawling ranch, the motley crew of cowhands, the arrogant and mysterious Elvis? Clementine could almost hear Bonnie's laughter, could picture her delighted grin and twinkling green eyes.

"Oh Clemmie, it's better than any dime novel!" she would say. "Handsome cowboys, wild horses, wide open skies... and you, the unlikely heroine out to prove herself and tame them all! Just think of the adventures you'll have!"

The corners of Clementine's mouth twitched with an unbidden smile. Trust Bonnie to see the romance in even the most daunting of circumstances. Perhaps there was something to that unshakable optimism. With any luck, Clementine would live to write her friend a bushel of thrilling letters detailing her exploits as the mistress of Windy Creek Ranch.

Provided she survived her first day as Elvis' employer, of course. 

Clementine forced down a flutter of trepidation as she neared the looming barn door. Steeling her nerve, she stepped across the threshold into the cool shadow, the pungent scents of hay and horses and honest sweat enveloping her. Her heels sank into the earthen floor, the faint clucking of chickens and a few falling feathers drifting from the loft above.

Elvis stood at the far end of the aisle, backlit by a shaft of sunlight. He had one hip cocked against a stall door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her approach with an inscrutable expression. Clementine tried not to notice the way his chambray shirt pulled taut across his muscled torso or how his worn denims hugged his lean thighs. She had no business admiring the physical attributes of a subordinate, no matter how undeniably attractive.

He started further into the barn, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. "You alright there, princess? Need me to fetch you a fainting couch?"

Clementine glowered at him behind his back.

"Welcome to the heart of Windy Creek," he said as she drew near. "This here's where the magic happens."

Clementine arched a brow. "Magic?"

Elvis' mouth twitched, his eyes glinting with something suspiciously like amusement at her primness. "Figure of speech. I mean this is where we break the horses, mend the tack, store the feed. Pretty much everything that keeps the place runnin' starts and ends right here."

He pushed off the stall and gestured for her to follow. "C'mon, I'll show you the layout. Reckon you'll be spendin' a fair bit of time in here, seein' as how you're aimin' to be a hands-on boss and all."

Clementine chose to ignore the note of condescension in his tone and fell into step beside him. For the next half hour, Elvis led her through the barn and corrals, rattling off details about everything from the hay inventory to the farrier schedule to the breeding records of the small remuda. His taciturn demeanor thawed by degrees as he spoke of Windy Creek's prize bloodlines and the foals he hoped to see come spring. It was clear this ranch was more than a job to him; it was his life's work, his pride and joy.

Despite herself, Clementine found she was hanging on his every word, absorbing the intricacies of a world so different from her own. The easy confidence with which Elvis navigated this domain, the surety of purpose in his every move, was oddly compelling. She could see why Uncle Ned had trusted him implicitly.

As they circled back to the main barn, Elvis nodded to a large fenced pasture dotted with grazing cattle. "That there's the heart of the herd. 'Bout 300 head of prime Hereford. The real moneymakers. They'll be your bread and butter once we drive 'em to market come fall."

Clementine shaded her eyes against the glare, marveling at the sea of dun backs and lowing faces. Never in her life had she been responsible for so many living creatures. The weight of it settled on her shoulders like a tangible thing.

"And you're certain we have enough hands to see them safely to market?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "I won't pretend to be an expert, but it seems an awful lot of ground to cover with just the few men I've seen so far."

"We're a lean crew but we're solid," said Elvis. "Me, Red, a couple fellas who drift through as needed. Ain't never lost a steer yet and don't aim to start now." He cut her a sidelong glance. "Course, an extra pair of hands come drive time is always welcome. You any good with a horse?"

Clementine's cheeks warmed at the challenge in his eyes. "I'm a fair rider," she said, lifting her chin. She had ridden in Central Park quite a few times when she was younger. "Though I'll admit it's been a while since I've sat anything beyond a sedate little mare on a bridle path." 

"Ain't nothin' sedate about the mounts we raise here," said Elvis with a slow grin that did funny things to her insides. "But I reckon we could find you a steady cow pony, get you back in the saddle."

"I'd like that," said Clementine, pulse quickening at the thought of flying across the open range with the wind in her hair. Yearning for speed and freedom and a taste of the untamed life that had always been denied her.

Something shifted in Elvis' gaze, his eyes darkening as they dipped briefly to her mouth. "Bet you would."

The air between them thickened, charged with a sudden crackling tension that raised the hairs on Clementine's nape. For a long, suspended moment, neither of them moved. Clementine hardly dared breathe, caught in the snare of Elvis' penetrating stare. What was happening? Why did it feel as if the very ground had tilted beneath her feet?

Then Elvis blinked and the spell was broken. He took a measured step back, features shuttering. "Best we get you settled in the house," he said brusquely. "Red's probably fixin' to break down the door wonderin' where we got to." 

Clementine swallowed, her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. "Of course," she managed. "After you."

They walked in silence back to the ranch house, a palpable charge still shimmering in the scant space between their bodies. Clementine's mind raced as she tried to make sense of the strange, heated little moment in the barn. Surely it was just a trick of the light, an odd fluke of exhaustion and overwrought nerves. There could be no other explanation for the way her skin had flushed and her stomach fluttered under Elvis' intent gaze.

She was just tired, that was all. Tired and overwhelmed and in desperate need of a bath and a good night's sleep in a proper bed. Everything would seem much more manageable in the clear light of morning. Including a certain confounding cowboy who seemed to swing between hostility and allure at the drop of a hat.

By the time they reached the house, Clementine had convinced herself she had imagined the whole unsettling interlude. Elvis deposited her on the front porch with a perfunctory nod and a promise to have one of the hands bring up a hip bath and hot water. Then he was gone, striding off towards the corrals with that swagger that drew entirely too much of her attention.

Clementine pushed through the door, resolved to put the perplexing man out of her head for the time being. She had more pressing concerns, like acquainting herself with her new living quarters and trying to impose some order on the chaos of this abrupt upheaval.

But as she climbed the creaking stairs to the second floor, dusty carpetbag in hand, she couldn't shake the feeling that her true adventure was only just beginning. That Elvis and Windy Creek Ranch might wind up changing her life in ways she had never dared dream.

With a flutter of nervous anticipation, Clementine stepped across the threshold of her new bedroom, ready to embrace whatever challenges and surprises lay ahead. She could only hope she proved equal to them.

As Clementine explored her new bedchamber, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the rustic charm that surrounded her. The room was simply furnished with a sturdy oak bed, a weathered dresser, and a washstand bearing a chipped porcelain basin. Faded calico curtains fluttered at the open window, letting in a breeze that carried the scent of lavender and distant pine.

It was a far cry from her cozy apartment back home, with its gas lamps and indoor plumbing and nosy neighbors just a thin wall away. But there was something undeniably appealing about this rough-hewn space, with its sense of history and hard-won comfort. She could almost imagine Uncle Ned sitting on the edge of this very bed, pulling off his boots after a long day in the saddle.

A lump rose in Clementine's throat as she thought of her uncle, of the legacy he had entrusted to her. She still couldn't quite believe he was gone, that she would never again hear his booming laugh or see the twinkle in his eye as he regaled her with tales of the wild west. He had been a larger-than-life figure, a beacon of adventure in her otherwise orderly world.

And now he had given her the greatest adventure of all. A chance to build something of her own, to carve out a place for herself in this untamed land. It was a daunting prospect, but also an exhilarating one. For the first time in her life, Clementine felt truly free. Free to make her own choices, to chase her own dreams, to become the woman she had always longed to be.

Oh, there would be challenges aplenty. She was under no illusions about that. Running a ranch was backbreaking work, and she had no experience with any of it. She would have to learn everything from scratch, would have to earn the respect of the men who worked for her. Men like Elvis, who seemed determined to undermine her at every turn.

Clementine's mouth tightened as she thought of the infuriating cowboy. He had made it abundantly clear that he thought she was in over her head, that a city girl like her had no business trying to run a cattle operation. Well, she would just have to prove him wrong. She would work twice as hard as anyone else, would study and practice until she knew this ranch inside out. She would show Elvis and everyone else that Clementine Olivetti was more than just a pretty face in a fancy dress.

With renewed determination, she set about unpacking her trunk. She carefully hung up the simple frocks and sturdy boots she had brought for work, then tucked away the few more fashionable items she couldn't bear to leave behind. Her fingers lingered on a photograph of her parents on their wedding day, their faces alight with joy and promise. She placed it gently on the dresser.

A knock at the door startled Clementine from her reverie. "Come in," she called, smoothing her skirts self-consciously.

The door swung open to reveal a plump, motherly woman with greying hair and a flour-dusted apron. She bobbed a curtsy, her lined face creasing into a warm smile.

"Beggin' your pardon, miss, but I thought you might be ready for some supper. It's been a long day for you, I reckon."

Clementine's stomach rumbled at the mention of food. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, too nervous to do more than nibble on the journey. "That would be wonderful, thank you. Mrs...?"

"Jameson, miss. Ida Jameson. I've been cookin' and cleanin' for Windy Creek nigh on twenty years now. Ever since Mr. Ned hired me on after my dear Henry passed."

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Jameson," said Clementine sincerely. "I hope you'll be patient with me as I learn my way around. This is all quite new to me."

"Oh, don't you fret none. We'll get you settled in right quick. Ain't nothin' to runnin' a house once you get the hang of it." Mrs. Jameson's eyes twinkled with kindly amusement. "And don't mind that Elvis none. His bark's worse than his bite. He's just used to havin' things his own way."

Clementine felt her cheeks heat at the mention of the exasperating foreman. Did her consternation show so plainly on her face? "I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Jameson."

"You do that, miss. Now, let's get you fed afore you faint dead away. I've got a nice beef stew on the simmer and fresh bread just out of the oven."

Clementine's mouth watered at the thought. Suddenly ravenous, she followed Mrs. Jameson down to the kitchen, the delectable scents wafting up the stairs making her stomach growl audibly.

The kitchen was a large, homey space, dominated by a massive cast iron stove and a long wooden table that could easily seat a dozen. Bunches of drying herbs hung from the rafters, jars of preserves lined the shelves, and a motley collection of skillets and kettles dangled from hooks on the walls. It was a far cry from the convenient, modern kitchens Clementine was accustomed to, but there was a cozy charm to it that put her instantly at ease.

Mrs. Jameson bustled about, ladling steaming stew into a blue willow bowl and cutting a thick slice of crusty bread. She set the meal in front of Clementine with a flourish, then poured a tall glass of cool, creamy milk from a stoneware pitcher.

"There you are. Eat up now, and don't be shy about askin' for seconds. Lord knows there's plenty to go around."

Clementine breathed in the savory aroma, her eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. She couldn't remember the last time a simple meal had looked so enticing. Murmuring her thanks, she dug in with gusto, the rich flavors exploding on her tongue.

For a few blissful minutes, there was no sound but the clink of Clementine's spoon against the bowl and the occasional appreciative hum as she savored each mouthful. Mrs. Jameson puttered about, wiping down counters and setting a pot of coffee to brew, a small, satisfied smile on her face as she watched her new mistress eat.

But the peaceful moment was shattered by the sudden bang of the screen door flying open. Elvis strode into the kitchen, his spurs jingling and his hat pulled low over his brow. He drew up short at the sight of Clementine, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly.

"Mrs. J, we got any of that stew left? I'm powerful hungry after wranglin' that new string of horses all afternoon."

"Sit yourself down, Mr. Elvis, and I'll fetch you a bowl," said Mrs. Jameson placidly, seemingly impervious to the sudden tension in the room.

Elvis hesitated, his gaze flicking between Clementine and the empty chair across from her. For a moment, she thought he might make some excuse and flee, but then he shrugged and sank down onto the bench, his long legs stretching out beneath the table.

Clementine kept her eyes fixed on her bowl, her appetite suddenly deserting her. She could feel Elvis watching her, could sense the coiled energy radiating off him like heat from a stove. It made her skin prickle and her heart thump erratically in her chest.

Mrs. Jameson set a heaping bowl in front of Elvis, then tactfully withdrew, muttering something about needing to tend to the laundry. Clementine silently cursed the woman for abandoning her, even as she understood the impulse. The air between her and Elvis was thick with a strange, charged energy that made it hard to breathe, let alone carry on a normal conversation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Clementine pushed a chunk of potato around her bowl, acutely aware of Elvis' every move as he tore off a hunk of bread and sopped up the rich gravy. She could hear the soft, wet sounds of his chewing, could catch the faint scent of horse and leather and sweat that clung to his skin.

It was all suddenly too much. Too intimate, too unnerving. Clementine pushed back from the table, nearly upending her milk glass in her haste. "Please excuse me," she mumbled, not meeting Elvis' eyes. "It's been a long day and I'm quite exhausted."

She fled the kitchen before he could respond, her cheeks burning and her pulse pounding in her ears. She didn't slow down until she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom, the door slamming shut behind her with a satisfying bang.

Clementine leaned back against the solid oak, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. What on earth was wrong with her? She had never been one to let a man fluster her, had prided herself on her poise and composure in even the most trying of circumstances. But something about Elvis made her feel off-balance, unsettled in a way she couldn't quite define.

It was more than just his rough manners and challenging attitude. There was a rawness to him, a sense of barely leashed power that sent a thrill down her spine even as it set her nerves on edge. When he looked at her, she felt stripped bare, as if he could see straight through her proper facade to the wild, yearning heart beneath.

It was terrifying. And if Clementine was being honest with herself, it was also strangely exhilarating. All her life, she had played by the rules, had done what was expected of her. She had been the dutiful daughter, the demure debutante, the efficient employee. But here, in this rugged land so far from everything she had ever known, she could feel those old constraints falling away. Here, she could be anyone she wanted to be, could chase dreams she had never dared voice aloud.

Even if those dreams involved a certain brooding, impossible cowboy with eyes the color of a stormy sky.

Clementine pushed off the door, shaking her head at her own foolishness. She was being ridiculous. Elvis was just a man, no different from any other. A bit rougher around the edges, mayhap, but certainly not worth losing her head over. She had more important things to worry about, like learning to run this ranch and proving herself worthy of her uncle's trust.

With a resolute nod, Clementine began to undress for bed, her fingers deftly unfastening the long row of buttons down the back of her bodice. She slipped the heavy garment off, sighing with relief as the cool air hit her sweat-dampened skin. She reached for her nightgown, a simple cotton shift that fell to her ankles in soft folds.

But as she lifted the garment over her head, a sudden gust of wind from the open window sent the curtains billowing inward, the fabric brushing against her bare skin like a lover's caress. Clementine shivered, gooseflesh rising on her arms and legs. For a moment, she imagined it was Elvis' hands on her, his callused fingers tracing the curve of her spine, the hollow of her throat, the swell of her breast...

With a gasp, Clementine wrenched the nightgown down, her face flaming with mortification. Good heavens, what was she thinking? She must be more tired than she realized, to let her mind wander down such inappropriate paths. Elvis was her employee, nothing more. To allow herself to entertain such lurid fantasies was not only foolish, but dangerous.

Flustered and out of sorts, Clementine crawled beneath the patchwork quilt, the bed creaking beneath her weight. She thumped the pillow a bit harder than necessary, then lay back with a huff, staring up at the shadowy rafters above.

Sleep. That was what she needed. A good night's rest to clear her head and settle her nerves. Tomorrow would be a new day, full of challenges and opportunities. She would rise with the sun, would throw herself into the work of the ranch with all the energy and determination she possessed. And if her thoughts should happen to stray to a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed cowboy, well... she would just have to deal with that when the time came.

With a sigh, Clementine closed her eyes, willing her racing mind to quiet. But even as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life was about to change in ways she had never dared imagine. That Elvis and Windy Creek Ranch would test her in ways she had never been tested before.

And that maybe, just maybe, she was ready for the challenge.

Chapter 2

The shrill crow of a rooster jolted Clementine from a dreamless sleep. She sat up with a start, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then memory came flooding back - the long journey west, the startling confrontation with Elvis, the strange, charged moment in the kitchen the night before.

Clementine groaned, flopping back against the pillows. She had hoped that a good night's sleep would clear her head, would settle the unsettling flutter in her stomach whenever she thought of the taciturn cowboy. But if anything, the light of day only made her confusion and trepidation worse.

How was she supposed to face him this morning, after fleeing from him like a frightened rabbit? He must think her a complete fool, a silly city girl who couldn't handle the slightest hint of rough manners. And what must the other ranch hands think, seeing their new boss so easily flustered by their foreman?

Clementine set her jaw, a spark of determination igniting in her chest. No. She refused to let Elvis or anyone else rattle her. She was Clementine Olivetti, mistress of Windy Creek Ranch. She had faced far greater challenges than one surly cowboy, and she would face this one with the same grit and grace that had gotten her this far.

With a resolute nod, Clementine threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She winced as her feet hit the cold floorboards, the chill of the early morning air raising gooseflesh on her arms. Shivering, she hurried to the washstand and poured a measure of tepid water from the pitcher into the basin. She splashed her face and neck, the bracing coolness helping to chase away the last vestiges of sleep.

As she toweled off, Clementine caught sight of herself in the small, spotty mirror hanging above the washstand. Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and a bit wan. The long journey and the stress of the previous day had taken their toll - there were shadows beneath her eyes and a pinched look to her mouth. But there was also a new resolve in the set of her chin, a glint of steel in her gaze.

She was not the same woman who had left New York. The old Clementine would have balked at the idea of manual labor, would have blanched at the thought of getting her hands dirty. But the new Clementine, the Clementine who had crossed a continent to claim her inheritance, was ready to roll up her sleeves and get to work.

With that thought firmly in mind, Clementine set about dressing for the day ahead. She chose a simple frock of sturdy blue calico, the skirt full enough to allow for ease of movement. Over it, she layered a crisp white apron, the bib protecting her bodice from any stray bits of dirt or debris. She pulled her hair back into a practical bun at the nape of her neck, then topped the ensemble with a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her face from the sun.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Clementine felt a surge of satisfaction. She looked like a woman who meant business, a woman ready to take on whatever challenges the day might bring. With a nod of approval, she turned away from the glass and made her way downstairs.

The kitchen was already a hive of activity when Clementine entered. Mrs. Jameson stood at the stove, stirring a pot of bubbling oatmeal with one hand while flipping pancakes with the other. The air was thick with the scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee, making Clementine's stomach rumble in anticipation.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jameson," she said, taking a seat at the long wooden table. "That smells heavenly."

"Mornin', Miss Clementine," the housekeeper replied, casting a smile over her shoulder. "I hope you slept well. I know the first night in a new place can be a bit unsettlin'."

"I slept just fine, thank you," Clementine lied, not wanting to admit to the restless thoughts that had kept her tossing and turning half the night. "Is there anything I can do to help with breakfast?"

Mrs. Jameson looked scandalized at the very idea. "Heavens no, miss! You just sit right there and let me take care of everything. It's my job to make sure you're well-fed and rested, not the other way around."

Clementine opened her mouth to protest, but the housekeeper cut her off with a stern look. "I mean it, miss. You've got enough on your plate as it is, learnin' the ropes of runnin' this ranch. Leave the cookin' and cleanin' to me."

Chastened, Clementine sat back in her chair, feeling a bit useless. She was used to being busy from sunup to sundown, to having a full day's work ahead of her. The idea of sitting idle while others bustled about made her itch with restlessness.

But before she could dwell on it too long, the kitchen door swung open and Elvis strode in, his spurs jingling with each step. Clementine's heart gave a traitorous leap at the sight of him, her skin prickling with awareness as his gaze landed on her.

"Mornin', Mrs. J," he said, tipping his hat to the housekeeper. Then, almost as an afterthought, "Miss Clementine."

"Good morning, Elvis," Clementine replied, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I trust you slept well?"

Elvis shrugged, hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. "Well enough. Got a full day ahead, so I reckon I'll sleep when I'm dead." His blue eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement, or might have been challenge. "You ready to get your hands dirty, boss lady?"

Clementine lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "I am. Just tell me where to start."

Elvis' mouth twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile. "Reckon we'll start with the chickens. Gotta collect the eggs and feed the birds 'fore we do anything else."

Clementine's nose wrinkled at the thought of mucking about in a chicken coop, but she nodded gamely. "Lead the way, then."

Elvis cocked a brow, looking almost impressed by her easy acquiescence. He jerked his chin toward the door, then strode out into the morning sunlight without a backward glance.

Clementine hurried to follow, her heart hammering with a mix of nerves and excitement. This was it - her first real test as mistress of Windy Creek. She could only hope she was up to the challenge.

The chicken coop was a ramshackle affair, all weathered wood and rusting wire. It stood at the edge of the yard, a few dozen scrawny birds pecking and scratching at the dirt around its base. They scattered as Elvis approached, clucking and flapping in agitation.

"Little bastards," Elvis muttered, kicking at a particularly bold rooster who dared to dart across his path. "More trouble than they're worth, most days."

Clementine eyed the birds warily, keeping a safe distance as Elvis unlatched the coop door and ducked inside. She could hear him moving about, the soft cluck and coo of the hens as he gathered their eggs. A moment later, he emerged, a basket hooked over one arm.

"Here," he said, thrusting the basket into Clementine's hands. "Hold this while I scatter the feed."

Clementine took the basket gingerly, peering down at the warm, speckled eggs nestled in the straw. They were still faintly damp from the hens' nests, and they gave off a rich, earthy scent that made her think of new life and green growing things.

As Elvis scattered handfuls of cracked corn across the yard, the chickens swarmed around his feet, pecking and jostling for position. Clementine watched in fascination as they darted and fluttered, their beady eyes bright with greed. She had never seen anything so vibrantly alive, so utterly unconcerned with human affairs.

"They're quite something, aren't they?" she murmured, almost to herself.

Elvis glanced up at her, surprised. "What, the chickens? I suppose so. Never gave 'em much thought, to be honest. Just another chore to be done."

Clementine shook her head, a small smile playing about her lips. "There's a lesson in that, I think. They don't worry about yesterday or tomorrow. They just live in the moment, taking what they need and letting the rest go."

Elvis straightened, dusting his hands off on his chaps. He regarded her with a new intensity, as if seeing her for the first time. "Ain't you just full of surprises, Miss Clementine."

Clementine felt a flush creep up her neck at his words, at the way his gaze seemed to linger on her face. She ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by the eggs in her basket.

"We should get these inside," she said briskly, turning back toward the house. "Mrs. Jameson will be wanting them for breakfast."

She could feel Elvis' eyes on her back as she walked away, could sense the weight of his regard like a physical touch. It made her skin tingle and her stomach flutter, made her feel alive in a way she never had before.

But she couldn't let herself dwell on it. Couldn't let herself get distracted by the way he made her feel. She had a ranch to run, a legacy to uphold. And she would do it with or without Elvis' approval.

With a determined set to her shoulders, Clementine marched up the porch steps and into the kitchen, ready to face whatever the day might bring. And if her thoughts kept straying to a pair of piercing blue eyes and a crooked, knowing smile, well...that was nobody's business but her own.

As the morning wore on, Clementine found herself thrown headlong into the daily rhythms of ranch life. After breakfast, Elvis put her to work mucking out stalls in the barn, a task that left her sweaty and aching but oddly satisfied. There was something soothing about the repetitive motions, the earthy scent of hay and horse, the soft whickers and snuffles of the animals as she worked.

Next came a lesson in saddling a horse, Elvis' hands guiding her through the intricacies of cinches and stirrups. Clementine tried not to think about how close he stood, how the heat of his body seemed to seep into her skin through the layers of her dress. She focused instead on the task at hand, on the supple leather beneath her fingers and the solid weight of the saddle as she hefted it onto the horse's back.

By the time the sun reached its zenith, Clementine was sore and sweat-streaked but buzzing with a sense of accomplishment. She had never worked so hard in her life, had never pushed herself to such physical limits. But there was a deep satisfaction in it, a pride in knowing that she was capable of more than she had ever imagined.

As they made their way back to the house for dinner, Elvis fell into step beside her, his long legs easily matching her shorter strides. Clementine glanced up at him, surprised to find a glint of approval in his eyes.

"You did good today," he said gruffly, as if the words pained him. "Reckon you might just have what it takes to make a go of this place after all."

Clementine felt a warm glow of pleasure at his praise, even as she bristled at the note of surprise in his voice. "Did you doubt it?" she asked archly.

Elvis' mouth twitched, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Let's just say I had my reservations. But you're full of surprises, Miss Clementine. Reckon I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you."

There was something in the way he said it, a hint of challenge and something else, something that made Clementine's pulse skip and her skin tingle. She met his gaze squarely, refusing to back down.

"I suppose you will," she said, her voice steady even as her heart raced. "But I intend to keep an eye on you as well. We're in this together, Elvis. Whether you like it or not."

For a moment, Elvis just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

"Reckon we are," he said, his voice low and rough. "Reckon we are."

And with that, he turned and strode off toward the barn, leaving Clementine to watch him go, her heart hammering in her chest and a new determination burning in her veins.

*

One morning, Elvis gathered the ranch hands for the afternoon's work—a cattle drive to the south pasture to check on the herd and survey the fence lines. Clementine insisted on going along, despite Elvis' skeptical look and Slim’s poorly concealed grin.

Elvis gestured to a small bay mare tethered nearby. "That there is Nutmeg. She's gentle as a lamb and sure-footed on any terrain. Figured she'd suit a greenhorn like you."

Clementine eyed the saddle and tack warily. She knew she was badly out of practice. But she'd be damned if she let Elvis see her falter.

"Lovely," she said brightly, untying Nutmeg's reins and leading her out into the sunlight.

Now came the tricky part. How in blazes did one mount a horse unassisted whilst wearing trousers? Clementine's mind raced as she tried to recall the particulars. There had been talk of a mounting block or some sort of assistance from a groom...

Before she could make a bigger fool of herself, a large, work-roughened hand appeared in her peripheral vision.

"Allow me," Elvis murmured, his breath tickling her ear. 

Clementine stiffened but managed a jerky nod, steeling herself as he gripped her waist and practically tossed her into the saddle as if she weighed nothing at all. Good lord, the man was strong as an ox!

"There now," Elvis said, sounding faintly amused. "Snug as a bug. Let's hit the trail."

He swung aboard his own horse, Rising Sun, with effortless grace and set off at a brisk trot, leaving Clementine scrambling to gather her reins and urge Nutmeg to follow. The mare fell into step readily enough, but the motion of the saddle had Clementine lurching and sliding like a sack of potatoes. She clung to the horn for dear life, her teeth rattling and her hat threatening to fly off with every jolting stride.

“You alright there, city slicker?” Elvis offered with a smirk. 

Clementine scowled at him, her face flushed with exertion and embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you. It's just been a while since I've ridden."

"I can see that. You're bouncin' around up there like a flea on a hot griddle." Red, Slim, and Rusty chuckled. 

Clementine's temper flared. "Well, forgive me for not being born in the saddle like some people. We can't all be insolent, arrogant cowboys!"

Elvis' eyes narrowed, his smile fading. "Careful now, missy. That insolent, arrogant cowboy is the only thing standing between you and a long walk back to the house. Might want to mind your manners."

“Aw hell, Elvis, leave the little lady alone,” Slim attempted to diffuse the budding argument.

Clementine knew she should back down, should swallow her pride and apologize. But something about this man just rubbed her the wrong way, stirring up a reckless, contrary streak she didn't even know she possessed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said sweetly to herself, not expecting anyone to hear her. "I thought I was the boss around here. My mistake."

Elvis' jaw clenched, his hand tightening on the reins. "Boss or not, out here you're just another greenhorn. And greenshorns who don't listen to good sense often end up buzzard bait. So you can either stow that snippy attitude and let me teach you a thing or two, or you can take your chances on your own. What'll it be?"

Red, Slim, and Rusty slowed their horses down, holding their breath and waiting for her answer. Clementine glared at Elvis, her pride warring with her common sense. As much as it galled her to admit it, Elvis was right. She was out of her depth out here and antagonizing her only guide was foolish at best, deadly at worst.

"Fine," she bit out. "Teach away, oh wise one. I am your humble student."

Elvis snorted, shaking his head. "You sure don't make it easy, do you? Alright, first things first—loosen up on them reins. You're holding 'em like you expect Nutmeg to bolt any second. She ain't going nowhere, trust me."

Clementine forced her white-knuckled grip to relax, letting out a shaky breath as the mare flicked an ear back curiously.

"Good. Now, stand up in them stirrups a bit. Let your knees absorb the motion 'stead of your backside. And keep your heels down for balance."

Clementine did as instructed, wobbling precariously for a moment before finding a rhythm. To her surprise, the ride smoothed out considerably, Nutmeg's rocking gait almost pleasant now that she wasn't being jounced to pieces.

"Well, would you look at that," Elvis drawled. "She can be taught. Keep that up and we might make a passable rider out of you yet, Miss Clementine."

Clementine felt an absurd flush of pleasure at his gruff approval. Honestly, what did she care what this uncouth lout thought of her? Still, perhaps it wouldn't kill her to bend a little, to put aside her wounded pride in service of the greater goal. She needed Elvis' cooperation if she hoped to make a go of this venture. Catching more flies with honey and all that.

Red’s mare caught up to hers, and he gently squeezed Clementine’s arm. “Don’t pay old Elvis no mind. He’s always a little ornery in the morning.” 

The four of them rode on in relatively companionable silence, the raw beauty of the landscape stealing Clementine's breath. Towering buttes and mesas rose up from the sun-baked earth, their banded layers glowing red and gold in the slanting light. Gnarled junipers dotted the hillsides, providing scant shade for the cacti and scrub brush that clung tenaciously to the rocky soil. In the distance, a band of wild mustangs kicked up dust as they fled across the flats, tails streaming behind them like banners.

It was a harsh, unforgiving land, but stunning in its austerity. Clementine tried to imagine her uncle Ned riding these same trails, his weather-beaten face creased in a smile as he surveyed his domain. She may not have known him well, but she sensed a kindred spirit—someone drawn to challenge and adventure, to pitting themselves against an untamed wilderness and emerging the victor.

Well, here I am, Uncle Ned, she thought. Following in your boot prints at last. I just hope I'm up to the task.

Lost in thought, Clementine scarcely noticed when Rusty reined in his horse at the crest of a rise, his keen gaze scanning the horizon.

"There," he said, pointing to a distant smudge of brown against the green and gold. "The herd's just over that next ridge. About three hundred head of prime Hereford, Ned's pride and joy. Let's ease up on 'em slow and quiet-like. Don't want to spook 'em into a stampede."

They approached the grazing cattle cautiously, Clementine's heart thudding with anticipation. Her first real look at her newfound livelihood. What would Ned have thought, seeing her astride a ranch horse, ready to take the reins of his empire? Would he be proud or appalled? Amused or aghast?

"You sure you're up for this, Miss Clementine?" Red asked, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Ridin' herd ain't no picnic, 'specially for a greenhorn."

Clementine lifted her chin, giving him a cool smile. "I'm tougher than I look, Mr. Redding. And I'm a quick study. I'll be just fine."

The cattle regarded the riders placidly, chewing their cud and swishing their tails at the flies. Up close, they were even more enormous than Clementine had imagined, their heavy bodies and wickedly curved horns dwarfing the horses. She felt a flicker of unease, remembering tales of cowpokes gored and trampled by unruly steers.

As if sensing her trepidation, Elvis murmured, "Easy now. They're more scared of you than you are of them. These are good, docile beasts, well-used to human handling. Just keep your movements slow and predictable and you'll be fine."

Clementine nodded jerkily, fighting the urge to wheel Nutmeg around and gallop in the opposite direction. She trusted Elvis' expertise, even if she didn't particularly like or respect the man himself. He'd kept this herd thriving for five years—that had to count for something.

They meandered through the milling cattle, Elvis pointing out choice specimens and explaining the finer points of branding, breeding, and husbandry. Clementine did her best to absorb the onslaught of information, her head fairly spinning with talk of bloodlines and feed supplements and market prices.

One thing was becoming crystal clear. She was hopelessly out of her depth when it came to the day-to-day realities of running a ranch. Short of a miracle or divine intervention, Windy Creek would be bankrupt and in ruins within a month under her ignorant guidance.

Clementine's throat tightened with despair at the thought of failing her uncle, of losing this land that meant so much to him. And what of the people who depended on Windy Creek for their livelihood? Red and Slim and Rusty and the other hands she had yet to meet—how could she face them if her incompetence cost them their jobs, their homes?

No, it was unthinkable. She needed help, loath as she was to admit it. She needed Elvis.

Clementine was just working up the nerve to broach the subject when the quiet afternoon exploded into chaos. One moment the cattle were grazing peacefully, the next they were bellowing in alarm, eyes rolling and hooves churning the earth. The cause of their distress soon became apparent—a pair of snarling, yipping coyotes had burst from the underbrush, harrying the herd's flanks in search of an easy meal.

"Damnation!" Elvis swore, spurring his mount towards the threat. "Slim! Red! Rusty! Get after 'em 'fore they scatter the herd!"

Clementine watched in amazement as the cowhands sprung into immediate action, whooping and hollering as they rode to head off the predators. Red in particular was a sight to behold, his enormous frame dwarfing his horse as he thundered after a fleeing coyote, his lasso whirling overhead.

In the midst of the pandemonium, Clementine lost sight of Elvis. She reined in Nutmeg, heart in her throat as she scanned the milling herd for any sign of him. Panic clawed at her insides as horrible visions flashed through her mind—Elvis thrown from the saddle, trampled beneath a hundred hooves, bleeding and broken on the unforgiving ground...

A flash of movement caught her eye and Clementine shrieked in alarm, instinctively wrenching Nutmeg to the side. Too late, she realized her mistake as a coyote darted from the brush directly underfoot, spooking the mare into a wild, twisting buck.

Clementine felt herself slipping, her tenuous grip on the saddle horn failing as Nutmeg crow-hopped and whirled beneath her. She had one instant of sickening clarity, the knowledge that this was going to hurt, before the ground rushed up to meet her with stunning force.

The impact drove the air from her lungs in a whoosh, black spots crowding the edges of her vision. Dimly, she registered the thud of approaching hoofbeats, the bawl of frightened cattle, someone shouting her name with increasing urgency.

"Clementine! Clementine, goddammit, answer me!"

Rough hands seized her shoulders, rolling her onto her back. Clementine blinked up at Elvis' ashen face, his blue eyes wide with fear.

"I'm... alright," she croaked, wincing at the stabbing pain in her ribs. "Just had the wind knocked out of me."

"You're hurt," Elvis said roughly, his fingers coming away from her temple sticky with red. "What the hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that? You're lucky you didn't break your damn fool neck!"

"I was thinking that I didn't particularly want to be some coyote's dinner," Clementine snapped, struggling to sit up. "What was I supposed to do, let it take a chunk out of Nutmeg?"

"Better the horse than you!" Elvis shot back. "Christ almighty, do you have any idea what it would've done to me if you'd been killed on my watch? On your first day here?"

There was something raw and desperate in his voice, an emotion Clementine couldn't quite name. She stared at him, struck speechless by the intensity of his reaction.

Before she could formulate a response, the sound of pounding hooves announced the return of the other cowhands. Red reined up hard beside them, his ruddy face creased with concern.

"Miss Clementine! You okay? We saw you take that spill and feared the worst!"

"I'm fine, Red," Clementine assured him, accepting Elvis' hand up with as much dignity as she could muster. "Just a little tumble. No permanent damage."

Rusty looked skeptical, eyeing the bloody gash on her forehead. "That's gonna need some doctorin'. We best get you back to the house and have Juanita take a look."

"I said I'm fine," Clementine insisted, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over her. "There's no need to fuss."

Elvis made a wordless sound of frustration, scooping her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour. "Stubborn woman! You're gettin' patched up and that's final. Rusty, ride back to the ranch and tell Juanita to put the kettle on and set up a place on the porch.”

"Yessir, boss!" Rusty wheeled his horse and took off at a gallop, stirring up a cloud of dust.

"Slim, you get this heard settled and head on back when you can. Red, you lead Nutmeg back. I'm takin' Miss Accident-Prone here home before she finds more trouble to get into."

Elvis plunked Clementine onto his saddle and swung up behind her, caging her in with his long arms. She opened her mouth to protest the indignity of it all, but a stern look from those flinty blue eyes had her subsiding into sullen silence.

The ride back to the house seemed to take an eternity, every jolt and jostle sending fresh sparks of pain through Clementine's battered body. She could feel the heat of Elvis' chest at her back, the tickle of his breath ruffling her hair. It was unsettling, being in such close proximity to him. Like trying to relax with a loaded gun at your temple.

By the time they reached the ranch yard, Clementine's head was throbbing and her stomach was churning alarmingly. Black spots swarmed her vision as Elvis lifted her down from the saddle, his hands exceedingly gentle for all their strength.

"Easy there, darlin'. I got you."

Clementine leaned into him, too woozy to protest the endearment. He smelled of leather and sweat and something uniquely male, a scent that made her pulse flutter in a way that had nothing to do with her injuries.

She was only vaguely aware of being carried up the porch steps and settled onto a low cot, clucking female voices buzzing around her like concerned hens. Cool hands smoothed her brow, a damp cloth dabbing at the sticky mess at her hairline. The sting of alcohol made her hiss, flinching away.

"Hush, child," crooned Juanita, the middle-aged Mexican woman who served as the ranch’s de facto doctor-slash-veterinarian. "This will clean the cut, keep it from putrefaction. Drink this now, for the dolor de cabeza."

A cup was pressed to Clementine's lips, bitter tea laced with something sharper, medicinal. She gulped it obediently, desperate for anything to dull the relentless pounding behind her eyes.

Gradually, blessedly, the pain receded to a distant ache, her limbs growing heavy with languor. Clementine felt herself sinking into the downy embrace of the cot, the muted sounds of the ranch fading to a distant hum. Just before oblivion claimed her, she thought she felt the calloused touch of a hand smoothing her hair, the gruff timbre of a voice rumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "rest now, wildcat."

But it was probably just a dream, a product of her exhausted, concussed brain. Elvis Presley would never be so tender, so solicitous. Not to her. Not in a million years.

*

Clementine slept, and did not dream at all.

She awoke slowly, surfacing from the depths of unconsciousness like a diver ascending sunlit waters. Her head felt muzzy, her mouth dry as cotton, but the pain had faded to a faint, distant throb. Blinking gummy eyes, she struggled to focus on her surroundings.

She was lying on the cot on the front porch, a patchwork quilt tucked around her legs. The sun was setting in a blaze of orange and pink, the long shadows of the outbuildings stretching across the yard like grasping fingers. Somewhere nearby, a lone cicada buzzed in the cooling air, a herald of the approaching dusk.

"Well now, look who's back among the living."

Clementine turned her head, wincing at the twinge in her neck. Elvis was seated in a rocking chair a few feet away, his long legs stretched out before him and his hat tipped low over his eyes. He looked relaxed, indolent even, but Clementine could sense the coiled energy beneath the languid facade, the watchful tension of a predator at rest.

"What happened?" she croaked, struggling to sit up. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours," Elvis replied, leaning forward to hand her a tin cup of water. "You took a pretty good knock to the head when that mare bucked you off. Juanita cleaned you up and dosed you with one of her concoctions. Said you'd be right as rain after some rest."

Clementine sipped the water, frowning as memory returned in fits and starts. The coyote, Nutmeg's panicked thrashing, the sickening weightlessness as she flew through the air...

"The cattle!" she exclaimed, slopping water down her front in her agitation. "Did they scatter? Was anyone hurt?"

Elvis shook his head, a faint smile playing about his lips. "Nah, we got 'em rounded up and settled quick enough. And other than a few bumps and bruises, everyone came through just fine. Except for you, a'course. Damn foolish stunt you pulled out there."

Clementine bristled at the censure in his tone, even as a tiny part of her acknowledged the truth of it. "I was just reacting on instinct. I didn't want Nutmeg to get hurt."

"And I didn't want you to get dead," Elvis retorted, a sudden edge to his voice. "Do you have any idea how close you came to dying today? How it felt to see you layin' there in the dirt, bleedin' and still as a corpse? Christ, Clementine, you 'bout stopped my heart."

Clementine stared at him, caught off-guard by the admission.

She flushed, both at the scolding and the backhanded compliment. "Yes, well, I suppose I've learned my lesson about playing the hero. Ranch work is a sight more dangerous than minding a shop or keeping accounts."

To her surprise, Elvis chuckled. "Reckon that's true enough. But you showed some real grit out there today, greenhorn or no. Not many city gals would have stuck it out like you did."

His praise, grudging as it was, warmed Clementine down to her toes. She ducked her head to hide her pleased smile, suddenly very aware of his nearness, of the way his knee brushed her hip through the quilt.

"I guess I'm tougher than I look," she said, aiming for nonchalance.

"Guess you are," Elvis agreed. Something in his tone made Clementine look up, her breath catching at the intensity in his blue eyes. For a long, charged moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them fairly crackling with an unnamed tension.

Then Elvis blinked and looked away, clearing his throat gruffly. "Best you get some more rest," he said, rising from the rocker. "I'll have Ida bring you up some supper later. Holler if you need anything."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Clementine alone with her whirling thoughts. She lay back against the pillows, her heart racing and her skin tingling where his gaze had lingered. What on earth had just happened? One minute Elvis was his usual gruff, scolding self, the next he was looking at her like... like...

Like a man looks at a woman he desires, a traitorous voice whispered in her head. Clementine shook the thought away, scandalised. Surely she was imagining things, seeing more than was there. She and Elvis were like oil and water, always rubbing each other the wrong way. He tolerated her for the sake of the ranch, nothing more. The idea that he might feel something deeper, something tender and passionate and real... it was impossible.

Wasn't it?

Clementine groaned and turned her face into the pillow, suddenly exhausted. Her head ached abominably, and her heart felt like a bird beating its wings against the cage of her ribs. She needed sleep, needed time to sort through the jumble of her emotions and the strange, unsettling effect Elvis Presley seemed to have on her good sense.

But even as she drifted off into a fitful doze, Clementine couldn't shake the memory of his eyes on hers, intense and searching and full of something that looked achingly like longing. It haunted her dreams, that look—a promise, a challenge, a invitation to something thrilling and terrifying and utterly forbidden.

Something Clementine knew she shouldn't want... but lord help her, she did.

She wanted it with every fiber of her being.

*

Over the next few days, as Clementine recovered from her injuries, she had ample time to reflect on her growing feelings for Elvis. It was maddening, the way he seemed to invade her every waking thought. She would be in the middle of some mundane task—shelling peas with Ida in the kitchen, or mending a torn shirt in her room—and suddenly his face would swim before her mind's eye, those piercing blue eyes and that crooked, knowing smile making her stomach flutter and her cheeks heat.

It was ridiculous. It was inappropriate. It was... inevitable, if Clementine was being honest with herself. From the moment she'd first laid eyes on Elvis, standing tall and proud on the porch of Windy Creek Ranch, she had felt the pull of him. The attraction, the fascination, the infuriating urge to crack that stony facade and see the man beneath.

But it was more than just physical allure. As the days turned into weeks and Clementine settled into her new life at the ranch, she began to see glimmers of the real Elvis: the loyal friend, the tireless worker, the unexpected jokester. Oh, he could be maddening, with his gruffness and his stubborn pride. But he could also be unexpectedly kind, unbelievably patient, and downright entertaining when the mood struck him.

Like the time he'd caught her trying to sneak a peek at his guitar, the one he kept propped in a corner of the bunkhouse. She'd been sure he would scold her for snooping, or worse, laugh at her clumsy attempts to pluck out a tune. But instead, he'd just shaken his head and smiled that crooked smile of his, then sat down beside her and showed her how to hold the instrument, his callused fingers guiding hers over the strings until she could pick out a passable melody.

Or the night he'd found her crying in the hayloft, homesick and overwhelmed and halfway convinced she'd made a terrible mistake in coming to Windy Creek. He hadn't said a word, just sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, letting her sob into his shirt until she was spent. Then he'd tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes, his own gaze fierce and tender all at once.

"You're doing just fine, Clementine," he'd said, his voice low and rough. "You're right where you're meant to be."

It was moments like those that made Clementine's heart ache with a longing she couldn't quite name. A yearning for something more than friendship, more than partnership. 

Something that felt suspiciously like affection.

But it was impossible. She and Elvis were too different, too stubborn and set in their ways. They would drive each other mad within a year, Clementine was sure of it. And even if by some miracle they could make a go of it, there was still the ranch to consider. Windy Creek needed her, needed Elvis. They couldn't afford any distractions or entanglements.

No, it was better to put such foolish notions out of her head. To focus on her duties and her goals, and let her heart's desire remain just that—a secret, wistful dream.

But oh, how she dreamed.

As the weeks passed and Clementine grew stronger, she threw herself into life at Windy Creek with renewed determination. She rose with the sun each morning, joining Mrs. Jameson in the kitchen for a hearty breakfast before heading out to tackle the day's chores. She rode herd with the cattle, mended fences with Red and the boys, even tried her hand at roping and branding.

She still felt hopelessly out of her depth at times, but she was learning fast. And she had Elvis to thank for that. He was a patient teacher, though a demanding one. He pushed her hard, expecting nothing less than her very best effort. But he was also quick with a word of praise when she got something right, or a steadying hand when she faltered.

Slowly but surely, Clementine could feel herself changing. Growing tougher, more resilient. The blisters on her palms turned to calluses, the ache in her muscles to a pleasant sort of soreness. And though her prim city dresses were a thing of the past, she found she didn't miss them all that much. There was a freedom in denim and calico, a practicality that suited her new life.

She knew she still had a long way to go before she could truly call herself a rancher. But for the first time since arriving at Windy Creek, Clementine felt like she might actually belong here. Like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And if her gaze still strayed to Elvis more often than it should, if her heart still raced at his nearness and her skin tingled at his touch... well. That was her secret to keep. Her cross to bear.

But lord, what a sweet burden it was.

*

One evening a few months later, as the sun dipped low on the horizon and painted the sky in shades of gold and pink, Clementine found herself alone with Elvis on a bluff overlooking the ranch. She'd gone up there to get away from the noise and bustle of the house for a while, to let the peace of the prairie soak into her bones and ease the remnants of the day's tension.

She hadn't expected Elvis to follow her. But then, he seemed to have a knack for turning up wherever she was. A coincidence, she told herself each time. Just a quirk of ranch life, two people whose paths were bound to cross often. It didn't mean anything.

But as Elvis came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing hers as they looked out over the rolling expanse of Windy Creek, Clementine felt that old familiar flutter in her chest. The hitch in her breath, the skip of her pulse.

It meant something. It had to.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the wind rustling through the grass, the distant lowing of the cattle in the pasture. Clementine breathed it in, let it fill her lungs and settle in her bones. This place, this land. It was a part of her now, as vital as her own beating heart.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, almost to herself.

Elvis hummed in agreement, his gaze never leaving the horizon. "Never get tired of this view. No matter how many times I see it."

Clementine glanced at him, struck by the wondering note in his voice. "You really love this place, don't you?"

Elvis nodded slowly. "It's in my blood. Has been since I was old enough to sit a horse. Used to dream about having a spread like this, a place to call my own." He paused, his jaw working as if wrestling with some inner debate. Then, quietly, "Never thought I'd find someone to share it with, though."

Clementine's heart stumbled, then began to race. Surely he didn't mean... no. He couldn't have. 

They rode home in silence. 

Chapter 3

The sun beat down on Clementine's back as she rode across the pasture, her eyes scanning the herd for any signs of trouble. It had been just over a year since she'd arrived at Windy Creek Ranch, and in that time, she'd learned more about cattle and cowboying than she'd ever thought possible.

She'd also learned a thing or two about herself. Like the fact that she was stronger than she'd ever given herself credit for, and that the wide-open spaces of the West felt more like home than the bustling streets of New York ever had.

As she turned her horse back towards the ranch house, Clementine couldn't help but smile. Despite the long days and the hard work, she'd never been happier. She had a purpose here, a place where she belonged.

She had Elvis. 

Of course, he was as quiet as ever. Truly, the strong and silent type. But somewhere along the way, through all the disagreements and teasing, a comfortable companionship had grown between them, and Clementine was grateful. 

She dismounted in front of the house, handing the reins off to one of the ranch hands. "Take good care of him, Johnny," she said, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder. "He worked hard today."

Johnny grinned, his freckled face beaming with pride. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Clementine. I'll give him a good rubdown and some extra oats."

Clementine nodded, grateful for the enthusiasm and dedication of her crew. Over time, the workers at the ranch had become like her family. In addition to Red, Slim, and Rusty, there was Johnny, the eager young newcomer; Hank, the grizzled old-timer who'd been working the ranch since before Clementine was born; Juanita, the no-nonsense veterinarian who kept the animals healthy and her affable husband Gerónimo; Ida, the motherly housekeeper and cook whose fried chicken was legendary around these parts; and a handful of other steady, reliable hands.

She made her way into the house, sighing with relief as the cool shade enveloped her. She had just taken off her gloves and settled down at her desk to go over the day's receipts when a letter caught her eye. It was postmarked from New York.

Clementine smiled as she unfolded the pages, eager for news from home. But before she could read more than a few lines, the door burst open and Elvis strode in, his face grim.

"We got trouble," he said without preamble. "Rustlers hit the Falling Tree Acres last night. They're missing a dozen head."

Clementine's blood ran cold. Rustlers. The scourge of the open range, the nightmare of every rancher west of the Mississippi. She had heard the stories, had listened to the ranch hands swap tales of cattle thefts and midnight raids. But she had never thought it would happen here, in their peaceful valley.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Elvis nodded grimly. "They found tracks this morning, out by their western pasture. Looks like the bastards cut the fence and drove off a dozen head in the night. Took ‘em 'til now to make sure there weren't no stragglers."

Clementine sank back into her chair, her knees suddenly weak. A dozen head. It didn't sound like much, but she knew that every animal counted, that even a small loss could be devastating to any ranch. 

“What’ll they do?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice. "What if the rustlers come here?"

Elvis sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Ain't gonna be easy. These rustlers, they're smart. They know how to cover their tracks, how to disappear into the wilderness like ghosts. We could spend weeks chasin' 'em and never see hide nor hair."

Clementine's heart sank even further. Something had to be done, but... weeks of fruitless searching, of neglecting the ranch and the rest of the herd? They couldn't afford it, not now. Not when they were just starting to find their footing. Then again, they needed to do something about it—prevent any losses before they happened.

But then, a sudden thought struck her. A memory of something her uncle had said, long ago, when she was just a girl. Something about the importance of neighbors, of community, of banding together in times of trouble.

"What about the other ranchers?" she asked, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Surely we're not the only ones who have been hit by these rustlers. What if we joined forces, pooled our resources and manpower?"

Elvis looked at her in surprise, as if the idea had never occurred to him. "You mean, like a meeting?"

She took a deep breath, her mind already racing. "Yes," she said, standing up from her desk. "Let's get the word out. I want every rancher in the valley here tonight. We need to figure out a plan."

Elvis nodded, his jaw tight. "I'll send Rusty and Johnny to spread the news. You want me to ride over to Big Sky, let them know?"

Clementine hesitated, remembering the last time she'd seen Nathaniel Hawthorne. The man had been cold and dismissive, making it clear that he didn't think much of a woman running a ranch. But Big Sky was one of the largest spreads in the area, and they needed all the help they could get.

"No," she said finally. "I'll go myself. It's time Nathaniel and I had a little chat."

Elvis's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. "Alright then. I'll hold down the fort here, make sure everything's ready for tonight."

Clementine nodded, grateful for his support. She knew that Elvis had his doubts about her plan, but he trusted her enough to follow her lead. It meant more to her than she could say.

She rode hard for Big Sky, her thoughts churning as she tried to come up with a way to convince Nathaniel Hawthorne to join their cause. The man was as stubborn as a mule, and twice as mean. But if they had any hope of stopping the rustlers, they needed Big Sky on their side.

When she arrived at the ranch, she was surprised to be greeted not by Nathaniel, but by his son Aaron. The young man was a few years older than Clementine, with sharp hazel eyes and a no-nonsense air about him.

"Miss Olivetti," Aaron said, his tone cool but polite. "I'm afraid my father is indisposed at the moment. What can I do for you?"

Clementine dismounted, dusting off her hands on her skirt. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure she meant it. "I've come to talk to him about the rustler problem. We're calling a meeting tonight, and I was hoping Big Sky would be represented."

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, and Clementine got the sense that she was being sized up. "I see," the young man said finally. "Well, I can't speak for my father, but I'll be there. Big Sky takes the rustler threat very seriously."

She rode back to Windy Creek feeling accomplished, like they might just have a chance against the rustlers after all. But as the sun began to set and the ranchers began to arrive, Clementine felt her confidence waver.

The main room of the ranch house was crowded, the air thick with tension and the murmur of voices. Clementine looked around at the gathered men, recognizing most of the faces. There was Jake McAllister from the Circle B, his weathered face set in a scowl. Tom Hawkins from the Rocking H, his fingers drumming an agitated beat on his thigh. Hank Brewster from the Lazy J, his shoulders slumped with weariness. Of course, Jake Dawson from Falling Tree Acres was there, too, hopping mad. And a half-dozen others, all looking to her for answers.

Her own men were there as well—Red and Slim and Rusty, their expressions grim. And a few more she'd come to rely on over the past year: Jeb Thompson, a grizzled hand who could coax a calf from the orneriest of heifers; young Billy Turner, eager to prove himself; and Lyle Davis, quiet and steady, with a gift for gentling horses.

But there was one face Clementine didn't recognize—a woman, standing slightly apart from the rest. She was tall and slim, with honey-blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. When Elvis saw her, he stiffened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

"Katie," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Didn't expect to see you here."

The woman—Katie—smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Desperate times, Elvis. My father and Aaron sent me in their stead." Aaron Hawthorne. Katie was Aaron’s brother, and Nathaniel’s daughter. 

There was a story there, Clementine could tell. A history between Elvis and this Katie Hawthorne. But now was not the time to dwell on it. They had bigger problems to deal with.

As if on cue, Tom Hawkins spoke up, his voice tight with anger. "We all know why we're here. These rustlers are bleeding us dry, and something needs to be done about it. But I think we ought to wait and see." A murmur went around the room, heads shaking and fists clenching.

"And what good would hunkering down do?" demanded Sam Johnson, his fists clenched at his sides. "They'd just pick us off one by one, like lambs to the slaughter. No, we need to take the fight to them, hit them hard and fast before they can hit us again."

"Are you out of your mind?" Hank Brewster's voice cut through the din like a knife. "You're talking about going up against armed men, men who won't hesitate to put a bullet in your back. It's suicide, plain and simple."

"I say we let the law handle it," said Hank Brewster, his tone weary. "It's their job, ain't it?"

Jake McAllister snorted. "The law? You mean Sheriff Hodges? That old drunk couldn't find his own ass with both hands and a map. We'd be better off hiring a pack of coyotes to guard the henhouse."

A ripple of uneasy laughter went through the room. Clementine frowned, her patience wearing thin. They were getting nowhere with this bickering. Soon, the men all erupted into argument, voices rising and tempers flaring. Clementine looked from one angry face to another, her heart sinking. This was exactly what she'd been afraid of—that the ranchers would be too divided, too set in their ways to find common ground.

"We have to do something," she said, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "We can't just sit back and watch everything we've worked for be taken away."

"And what do you suggest, Miss Olivetti?" Katie asked, her tone faintly mocking. "That our men go out there, guns blazing, and get themselves killed?"

Clementine opened her mouth to retort, but Elvis beat her to it, his deep voice cutting through the din like a knife.

"Seems to me," he said slowly, "that we don't have much choice in the matter. Either we take the fight to the rustlers, or we sit back and watch everything we've worked for get stolen out from under us. I don't know about y'all, but I ain't too keen on the second option."

A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional cough or shuffle of feet. Clementine could see the indecision on every face, the warring impulses of self-preservation and solidarity.

But then, slowly, heads began to nod. Shoulders straightened, jaws set with determination. "The man's right," Jake McAllister said grudgingly. "We can't just sit back and let them pick us off one by one. We have to stand together, or we'll all fall alone."

There were murmurs of agreement from around the room, a sense of purpose beginning to take hold. Clementine felt a surge of pride and gratitude, her eyes seeking out Elvis's across the sea of faces. He met her gaze steadily, something warm and reassuring in the blue depths.

"Alright then," Elvis said, his voice ringing out with confidence. "Let's get to planning. We'll need every able-bodied man who can ride and shoot. We'll track the rustlers to their hideout, and we'll make sure they never trouble us again."

The meeting broke up soon after that, the ranchers dispersing to make their preparations for the evening. As she was lighting a candle, Clementine caught a glimpse of Katie Hawthorne deep in conversation with Elvis, their heads bent close together as they spoke in low, urgent tones.

Something twisted in Clementine's gut at the sight, a flare of jealousy that she didn't quite understand. But she pushed it down, focusing instead on the task ahead. There would be time to worry about Katie Hawthorne later. 

*

Later that evening, Clementine found herself wandering the quiet halls of the ranch house, her mind too full of worries to settle. She was just about to open the cupboard when she heard a noise from the living room, a soft clink of glass on wood.

Curious, she padded over to the doorway, peering into the dimly lit room. Elvis sat at the table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him and a troubled expression on his face. He looked up as she entered, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Clementine,” he said, his voice rough. “What are you doing up?”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious in her nightgown and robe. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

Elvis nodded, his gaze dropping to the glass in his hand. "I know the feeling," he said, taking a swig of whiskey. 

Clementine's heart clenched at the weariness in his voice, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. "You don't have to go tonight, you know," she said softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "The other men can handle it. You've done enough already, Elvis. More than enough."

He looked up at her then, something fierce and determined in his eyes. "Ain’t no way," he said, his voice low and intense. "I promised your uncle I'd look after this place, Clem. I ain't about to break that promise now."

Clementine felt a rush of warmth at his words, a flutter of something deeper and more complicated than gratitude. But she tamped it down, focusing instead on the danger ahead.

"It's going to be risky," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "I don't want you getting hurt on my account, Elvis. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

He covered her hand with his own, his skin warm and rough against hers. "Good thing I ain't planning on gettin’ hurt, then," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, it’s just a search party. We ain’t gonna do no shooting tonight. We’re just gonna track the rustlers, that’s all.”

Clementine laughed, the tension draining out of her in a rush. "Well, I suppose I can live with that," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Just promise me you'll be careful out there, alright?"

"I promise," Elvis said, his voice solemn. "And you promise me, Clementine. You’ll be waiting when I get back?"

She nodded, her throat suddenly tight. "I promise," she whispered, meaning it with every fiber of her being.

They sat like that for a long moment, hands clasped and eyes locked, the silence stretching out between them like a promise of its own. And then Elvis cleared his throat, releasing her hand and standing up from the table.

"Best get some rest," he said, his voice gruff. "Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Clementine stood as well, her heart racing as she followed him to the door. "Goodnight, Elvis," she said softly, her hand on the knob. "And thank you. For everything."

He paused, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair back from her face. "Anytime, Clem," he murmured, his eyes soft. "Anytime at all."

And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Clementine alone with her thoughts and the pounding of her own heart.

*

The ranch house was quiet that night, the usual bustle and chatter replaced by a tense, watchful silence. Clementine wandered the halls like a ghost, her mind spinning and her heart aching.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that some disaster was looming just beyond the horizon. And she couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right choice, staying behind while her men out to face the danger alone.

She found herself in the kitchen just as dawn was breaking, staring blankly at the coffeepot as it burbled and hissed on the stove. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there, or why she'd come. All she knew was that she needed something, anything, to take her mind off the worry and the fear.

And then, like a miracle, Elvis appeared in the doorway. He looked haggard and worn, his face lined with exhaustion and his eyes shadowed with some dark emotion. But he was alive, and whole, and Clementine felt her heart leap with relief.

"You're back," she breathed, stepping forward to meet him. "What happened out there? Did you find them?"

Elvis shook his head, his jaw tight. "No. We rode hard all night, followed their trail as far as we could. But they're clever bastards, know how to cover their tracks. We lost the scent somewhere around Coyote Creek, and by then it was too dark to go on."

Clementine's heart sank, disappointment and frustration welling up in her throat. "So what now?" she asked, her voice small. "What do we do?"

Elvis sighed, running a hand over his face. "We start again the day after tomorrow, at first light. Keep searching until we find them, or until we can't search no more."

He looked at her then, his eyes dark and intense. "I need you to be strong, Clementine. I need you to keep this place running, keep the men in line. Can you do that for me?"

Clementine swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat. "Of course," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'll do whatever needs to be done, Elvis. You know that."

He nodded, something like pride flickering in his gaze. And then, to her surprise, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

Clementine stiffened for a moment, unused to such displays of affection from the taciturn cowboy. But then she melted into him, her hands fisting in the back of his shirt and her face pressing into the warm, solid strength of his chest.

"I'm scared, Elvis," she whispered, the words muffled against his skin. 

He tightened his hold on her, his chin resting on the top of her head. "I know, darlin'. I'm scared too. But we can't let that fear control us, you hear me? We gotta be strong, for each other and for this ranch."

Clementine nodded, drawing in a shuddering breath. And then, before she could lose her nerve, she tilted her head back and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was quick and chaste, a gentle exploration that made her heart race and her blood sing. Elvis made a low, desperate sound in the back of his throat but before things could go any further, he tore himself away, his breath coming hard and fast. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’ta done that." he said, his voice rough with wanting. "We can’t. I ain’t gonna take advantage of you.Not when we both don't know what tomorrow might bring."

“I—you’re right.” Clementine knew it, even as her body screamed in protest. She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off the chill of his absence. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't know what came over me. It's just... the thought of losing you..."

"Shh." Elvis placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. 

"Don't talk like that. We're gonna make it through this, you and me. And when we do, we'll have all the time in the world to figure out what this is between us."

Clementine nodded. 

He leaned in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead. "But for now, we gotta focus on the task at hand. We gotta be strong for the ranch. Can you do that for me, Clem?"

She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. "I can. I will."

He smiled then, a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made her heart skip a beat. "That's my girl. Now, let's get some rest. We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

*

The first rays of the sun were just beginning to paint the sky in shades of pink and gold when Clementine stepped out onto the porch, a rifle slung over her shoulder, two pistols at her hip, and a steely glint in her eye.

The ranchers were already gathered in the yard, checking their tack and loading their saddlebags with grim determination. Elvis stood at the center of the group, his black hat pulled low over his brow as he issued last-minute orders and instructions, saddling his mount quickly and efficiently.

He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening in surprise and something like consternation. "What do you think you're doing? I thought I told you to stay put," he demanded, striding over to block her path. "You ain't comin' with us, Clementine. It's too dangerous."

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "The hell I'm not," she said, her voice ringing with conviction. "This is my ranch, Elvis. My land, my cattle, my responsibility. My men. And I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and let someone else fight my battles for me."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I know what you're going to say," she said. "That I'm just a woman, that I don't know how to handle a gun or ride with a posse. But you're wrong, Elvis. I've been learning this past year. I can shoot as straight as any man here, and ride twice as quick."

Red’s face split into a big, knowing smile. Elvis elbowed him, and his ruddy companion stood ramrod straight. She saw the flicker of surprise in Elvis’ eyes, too, the grudging respect that warred with his instinctive need to protect her. But she wasn't about to back down, not now, not when so much was at stake.

"I'm coming with you," she said, her voice low and intense. "And that's final. You can either accept it, or you can try to stop me. But either way, I'll be riding out of here at your side, come hell or high water."

For a long, tense moment, Elvis just stared at her, his jaw working as if he were chewing on a particularly tough piece of rawhide. Then, slowly, he nodded, his eyes glinting with something that might have been pride, or exasperation, or a little bit of both.

"Alright, then," he said gruffly. "But you stay close to me, you hear? And if I give you an order, you follow it, no questions asked."

They rode out in a thunder of hoofbeats, the sun high overhead and the wind whipping at their faces. Clementine could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the thrill of the hunt mingling with a cold, creeping fear. She knew that they were riding into danger, that there was no telling what they might face out there on the open range.

But she also knew that she was not alone, that she had Elvis and the others by her side, ready to fight for what was theirs, and that knowledge gave her the courage to keep riding.

They rode for hours, following the rustlers' trail across the rugged terrain. The sun beat down on them, the heat shimmering off the rocks and the scrubby brush. Clementine could feel the sweat trickling down her back, the dust caking her face and hair. But she hardly noticed, her mind focused on the task at hand, on the need to find the stolen cattle and bring the thieves to justice.

It was nearly sundown when they finally caught sight of the rustlers' camp, a thin plume of smoke rising from a hidden canyon up ahead. Elvis called a halt, his hand raised in warning.

"We'll have to go in on foot from here," he said, his voice low and tense. "Can't risk them hearing us coming."

Clementine nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it, the moment of truth. She slid from her saddle, her legs stiff and sore from hours of riding. She checked her rifle, making sure it was loaded and ready, then fell in behind Elvis as he led the way toward the canyon.

They crept through the underbrush, the only sound the crunch of their boots against the dry leaves and twigs. Clementine could feel the tension in the air, the sense of impending danger. She knew that the rustlers would be armed, that they would fight to keep their stolen herd. But she also knew that they were outnumbered, that the posse had the element of surprise on their side.

As they neared the edge of the canyon, Elvis held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. He peered over the edge, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene below.

"They're down there, alright," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Looks like they've got the cattle penned up in that box canyon. I count six men, maybe seven."

Clementine swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Six men. Six armed, desperate men who would stop at nothing to keep what they had stolen. She knew that the odds were in their favor, that they had the rustlers outnumbered and outgunned. But she also knew that anything could happen in the heat of battle, that there was no guarantee that they would all make it out alive.

She looked at Elvis, saw the grim determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw. And she knew that he was thinking the same thing, that he was weighing the risks and the rewards, the need to protect their own against the danger of the unknown.

"What's the plan?" she asked, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart.

Elvis took a deep breath, his gaze still fixed on the canyon below. "We'll split up, come at 'em from both sides. Jake, you take half the men and circle around to the north. Tom, you take the other half and come in from the south. Clementine, you're with Jake. I’ll go straight down the middle, try to draw their fire and give the others a chance to get in close."

Clementine felt a sudden, sharp fear at his words, a sense of dread that she couldn't quite shake. She knew that Elvis was putting himself in the greatest danger, that he was using himself as a distraction to give the others a chance. And she knew that she couldn't let him do it alone.

"I'm coming with you," she said, her voice brooking no argument.

Elvis looked at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "Clementine, I don't think—"

"I'm not asking, Elvis," she said, cutting him off. "I’m coming."

For a moment, Elvis just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, a flicker of something like pride in his eyes.

"Alright then," he said, his voice gruff. "Let's do this."

They made their way down the steep slope of the canyon, the loose shale and gravel sliding beneath their feet. Clementine could hear the low murmur of voices from the camp below, the soft lowing of the penned-up cattle. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her palms slick with sweat on the grip of her rifle.

As they neared the bottom of the canyon, Elvis held up a hand, signaling for her to stop. He peered around the edge of a boulder, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"Alright," he said, his voice low and tense. "On my signal, we move in. You stay close to me, you hear? And if things start to go south, you get the hell out of there and don't look back."

Clementine nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She knew that he was trying to protect her, that he was willing to lay down his life to keep her safe. And she knew that she couldn't let that happen, that she would fight to her last breath to keep him alive.

Elvis took a deep breath, his hand tightening on the grip of his pistol. Then, with a nod to Clementine, he stepped out from behind the boulder, his voice ringing out across the canyon.

"Drop your weapons and let the cattle go!" he shouted, his pistol leveled at the nearest rustler. "You're surrounded and outnumbered. There's no way out!"

For a moment, there was silence, the only sound the low moan of the wind through the canyon. Then, with a shout of defiance, the rustlers opened fire, their bullets whizzing past Clementine's head and shattering the rock at her feet.

She dropped to the ground, her heart pounding in her chest. Beside her, Elvis was returning fire, his pistol barking in the still air. She could hear the shouts and curses of the rustlers, the panicked bellowing of the cattle as they milled about in their makeshift pen.

Clementine leveled her rifle, her hands steady and her aim true. She squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times, watching with grim satisfaction as the rustlers fell, clutching at their wounds.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something that made her blood run cold. Elvis, locked in hand-to-hand combat with one of the rustlers, his gun lying forgotten on the ground.

The man was huge, easily a head taller than Elvis and twice as broad. He had a knife in his hand, the blade glinting wickedly in the sun, and a feral grin on his face as he bore down on the smaller man.

Clementine didn't hesitate. She got up from her position, charging towards the two men with a shout of fury. She leaped, tackling the rustler around the waist and sending them both tumbling to the ground.

They grappled in the dirt, the man's knife slashing at the air as Clementine tried to wrestle it from his grip. She could hear Elvis shouting her name, could feel the impact of bodies hitting the ground all around her as the battle raged on.

And then, with a final, desperate twist, she wrenched the knife free. The man lunged for her, his eyes wild with rage and desperation, but Clementine was faster. She plunged the blade into his chest, feeling the sickening give of flesh and bone.

The rustler's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in a silent scream. And then he was falling, his body hitting the ground with a dull, final thud.

Clementine staggered to her feet, her breath coming in great, heaving gasps. She looked around wildly, taking in the scene of carnage and chaos.

All around her, the canyon exploded into chaos. The posse had burst from cover, guns blazing as they bore down on the rustlers. She could hear shouts and screams, could smell the acrid tang of gunpowder on the air. Bullets whizzed past her head, kicking up puffs of dust at her feet. 

It seemed to go on forever, that nightmarish battle in the heart of the canyon. But in reality, it was over in a matter of minutes. The rustlers, outnumbered and outgunned, threw down their weapons and surrendered, their hands raised in supplication.

Clementine sagged with relief, her knees suddenly weak. She looked around, taking in the scene of carnage—the bodies sprawled on the ground, the wounded men groaning in pain, the cattle milling about in confusion.

And then her gaze fell on Elvis, and her heart stopped.

He was lying on the ground, his face pale and his eyes closed. There was a spreading stain of red on his shirt, a wound in his chest that pulsed with each labored breath.

"No," Clementine whispered, stumbling forward on numb, leaden feet. "No, no, no."

She fell to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as she pressed them to the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood. Elvis's eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.

"Don't you dare," she said fiercely, her tears falling hot and fast on his face. "Don't you dare leave me, Elvis Presley. Not now, not like this."

*

"Somebody help me!" Clementine shouted, her voice raw with desperation. "Please, he's hurt, we need to get him back to the ranch!"

The others crowded around, their faces grim as they took in the sight of their fallen comrade. Tom Hawkins knelt down on Elvis' other side, his fingers searching for a pulse.

"He's alive," he said, his voice tight. "But he's lost a lot of blood. We need to get him back to Windy Creek, and fast."

Clementine nodded, her vision blurring with tears. 

“Put him on White Lightning!” Rusty cried, “Clem’s horse is the fastest.” She watched as the men lifted Elvis onto the back of her horse, his head lolling limply against his chest. She wanted to go to him, to gather him into her arms and will the life back into his broken body. But she knew that she couldn't, that she had to be strong now, for him and for herself.

"I'll go with you," said Jake, swinging up into his own saddle. "Red and Tom, you, round up the herd and head on back. The rest of you, tie the rustler up. We'll meet you there."

The ride back to the ranch was a blur, a nightmare of dust and sweat and clenching fear and Elvis’ limp form cradled against her chest as she urged White Lightning onward. She could feel his blood soaking through her shirt, could hear the rattling wheeze of his breath in her ear. 

But she refused to give up hope, refused to let the fear and the despair take hold. Elvis was a fighter, a survivor. He would make it through this. He had to.

They reached the ranch just as the sun was setting, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold. Clementine leapt from the saddle, shouting for Juanita and the ranch hands as she half-carried, half-dragged Elvis inside.

"Help him!" she demanded, her voice tight with fear. 

Mrs. Jameson hurried over, her face creased with worry. "They took him straight up to his room, miss. Juanita's with him now, doing what she can to stop the bleeding. But he's in a bad way, I won't lie to you."

The next few hours passed in a haze of activity and dread, the ticking of the clock on the mantel the only sound in the silent house. Juanita worked tirelessly, cleaning and stitching and bandaging, her face set in grim determination.

*

It had been hours, and Clementine had no news. "I need to go to him, Ida" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to be with him."

The housekeeper nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. "Of course, miss. You go on up. I'll see to the hands and the stock."

Clementine managed a grateful nod, then turned and fled into the house, her heart pounding and her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She took the stairs two at a time.

She burst into Elvis' room without knocking, her eyes wide and wild as she scanned the dimly lit space. He was lying on the bed, his shirt torn open to reveal the ugly, seeping wound in his chest. Juanita was bent over him, her hands bloody as she worked to staunch the flow.

"How is he?" Clementine asked, her voice thin and reedy to her own ears. "Will he... will he live?"

Juanita looked up, her dark eyes unreadable. "I don't know, Clem. He's lost a lot of blood, and the bullet's still in there. I've done what I can to clean and bind the wound, but he needs a real doctor, and soon."

Clementine nodded, her throat too tight for words. She sank down onto the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out to brush the sweat-soaked hair back from Elvis' brow. He was burning with fever, his skin hot and dry beneath her palm.

"Oh, Elvis," she whispered, the endearment slipping out before she could stop it. "What have they done to you?"

She sent Red to fetch Doc Jamison from town, his saddlebags laden with all the medical supplies they could spare. And then there was nothing to do but wait, and pray, and hope against hope that Elvis would pull through.

The sun rose and set, the hours bleeding into days.

Clementine sat by Elvis's bedside, holding his hand and whispering words of encouragement. She barely slept, barely ate, her whole world narrowed down to the rise and fall of his chest, the fluttering of his eyelids, the faint pulse at his wrist.

And then, on the eighth day, a miracle. Elvis's fever broke, his breathing easing and his color returning. He opened his eyes, blinking up at Clementine with a weak, crooked smile.

"Hey there, darlin'," he rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Fancy meeting you here."

Clementine let out a sob, tears of relief and joy streaming down her face. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck and breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she whispered fiercely. "You hear me, Elvis Presley? Never again."

He chuckled softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured. "I promise."

*

The next morning, Clementine awoke to Elvis screaming in agony. Before long, Doc Jamison was at his bedside, procuring a large needle from his medicine bag and injecting it into the patient’s arm. Clementine watched with bated breath as Elvis slowly settled back into a comfortable sleep, floating in the twilight of morphine.

She sat at his bedside, keeping vigil, praying for him. At one point, he whispered something.

"Marry me," she thought she heard. "Be my wife, Clementine."

Chapter 4

Clementine sat at her desk, sorting through the mail that had arrived the previous week. Among the various bills and correspondence, one letter caught her eye. The familiar handwriting on the envelope made her heart skip a beat. It was from Bonnie.

With trembling fingers, Clementine opened the letter and began to read:

"My Dearest Clemmie,

I hope this letter finds you well and thriving in your new life at Windy Creek Ranch. I miss you terribly, and the city feels empty without your laughter and companionship.

I have exciting news! I've decided to take a break from the hustle and bustle of New York and come visit you at the ranch. I long to see the beautiful landscapes you've described and meet the intriguing characters you've mentioned in your letters.

Expect me to arrive within the fortnight. I cannot wait to embrace you and hear all about your adventures.

Your loving friend, Bonnie"

Clementine clutched the letter to her chest, a wide grin spreading across her face. The prospect of having Bonnie at the ranch filled her with joy and excitement. She couldn't wait to show her best friend around and introduce her to everyone, especially Elvis.

Elvis. The thought of him made Clementine’s smile falter.

Since his injury, their relationship had been somewhat strained. She had been tending to him diligently, changing his bandages and ensuring he was comfortable. However, every time she tried to bring up his morphine-induced mumblings, Elvis would change the subject or feign exhaustion. It was starting to worry her. 

A knock at the door startled Clementine from her thoughts. 

"Come in," she called, setting the letter aside.

To her surprise, Katie Hawthorne stepped into the room, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed and her blue eyes sparkling. She looked stunning in a sage green day dress that complemented her fair complexion.

"Good morning, Clementine," she greeted, her voice polite but cool. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Clementine forced a smile, trying to ignore the twinge of unease that Katie's presence always seemed to evoke. "Not at all, Katie. What brings you here?"

Katie walked over to the desk, her posture poised and confident. "I was hoping to visit Elvis. I heard he's recovering well, and I thought he might appreciate a familiar face."

Clementine's stomach churned at the thought of Katie spending time alone with Elvis. She knew there was a history between them, but the details remained a mystery. "I'm sure he would appreciate that," she managed to say, her voice even. "He's in his room, resting."

With a nod and a polite smile, Katie left the room, leaving Clementine alone with her thoughts. Unable to concentrate on her work, Clementine decided to take a walk around the ranch to clear her head.

As she stepped outside, the warm sun and gentle breeze greeted her. The sound of laughter caught her attention, and she spotted Red and Slim engaged in a lively conversation near the stables.

"Miss Clementine!" Red called out, waving her over. 

Clementine made her way over to them, eager for a distraction. "You're just in time. Slim here was about to share a story about the time he singlehandedly fought off a pack of coyotes."

Slim grinned, puffing out his chest. "It's true! I was out on the range, minding my own business, when suddenly..."

But as Slim launched into his tale, Clementine found herself only half-listening. Her mind wandered to the conversation she had overheard earlier between Katie and Elvis. She had been passing by Elvis' room when she heard their voices, low and intense.

"Elvis, I know things ended badly between us," Katie had said, her tone sincere. "But I want you to know that I still care about you. I always have."

"Look, I appreciate you coming to see me, but things are different now," Elvis had replied, his voice firm but not unkind. 

Katie had scoffed. “I know you don't mean that—”

“Katie, I’m not the same man I was back then.”

"I know that, Elvis. And I respect it. I just... I don't want us to be strangers. We have too much history for that."

There was a pause, and Clementine could picture Elvis considering her words. "You're right. We can be friends, Katie. But that's all we can be."

Clementine hurried away before she could hear Katie's response, her heart racing and her mind reeling. What exactly had happened between them? And why did the thought of them together make her feel so unsettled?

Feigning a stomachache, Clementine gently extracted herself from Slim and Red and started back for the house.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Ida approach until the older woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Miss Clementine, you look troubled," Ida said, her kind eyes filled with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Clementine sighed, offering Ida a weak smile. "I'm fine, Ida. Just a lot on my mind, I suppose."

Ida nodded, understanding dawning on her face. "It's about Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie, isn't it?"

Clementine's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

Ida chuckled softly. "I've been around long enough to notice things, Miss Clementine. And I can see the way you look at Mr. Elvis, and the way Miss Katie looks at him too. Frankly, I’d look at him that way too if I were younger,” she chuckled.

Clementine felt her cheeks heat up. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ida."

The housekeeper smiled knowingly. "It's alright, Miss Clementine. You don't have to pretend with me. I know it's not my place to gossip, but I feel like you should know the truth about Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie."

Curiosity got the better of Clementine, and she found herself leaning in closer. "What truth, Ida?"

Ida glanced around to make sure they were alone before lowering her voice. "Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie were engaged to be married once, years ago. They were young and in love, or so they thought. But then Miss Katie got it into her head that she wanted to see the world, experience life beyond the ranch. She left Mr. Elvis behind without so much as a goodbye, broke his heart into a million pieces." She sighed, shaking her head. "It was a terrible thing to see."

Clementine's heart sank. "I had no idea," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Ida patted her hand reassuringly. "Mr. Elvis was never the same after that. He threw himself into his work, closed himself off from the world. But then you came along, Miss Clementine. I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he smiles when you're around. You've brought light back into his life."

Clementine felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "But what about Katie? She's beautiful, and wealthy, and she knows this life. How can I compete with that?"

"Miss Clementine, you listen to me. You are a smart, strong, and kind-hearted young woman. You have brought so much good to this ranch, and to the people who live and work here. Don't you ever doubt your worth."

Clementine nodded, blinking back her tears.

The housekeeper smiled warmly. "Now, why don't you go and check on Mr. Elvis? I'm sure he could use some company."

Taking a deep breath, Clementine squared her shoulders and made her way back upstairs. She waled down the hall to Elvis' room, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but hesitated when she heard voices coming from inside.

"... and do you remember that night by the creek? The stars were so bright, and you held me so close. I felt like I could stay in your arms forever." Katie's voice was soft, tinged with nostalgia.

“Sure do.” Elvis’ deep chuckle reverberated through Clementine’s bones.

"Hold still," Katie's voice was soft, almost tender. "This poultice will help with the pain."

There was a moment of silence, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Elvis. "Ouch! Careful, Katie."

"Don't be such a baby," Katie chided, her tone playful. "You've had worse."

Then, a sigh.

"Katie, we can't keep doing this. I told you things are different now." Elvis sounded tired, his voice strained.

"Are they? When I'm with you, it feels just like old times. We sure had something special, didn’t we, Elvis? Don't you miss it?"

Clementine's stomach churned as she imagined Katie sitting close to him, her hands gentle on his skin. She knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but she couldn't seem to make herself move.

There was a long pause, and then Elvis spoke, his words hesitant. "I... I don't know, Katie. It's been so long. I’m not the same man I was before."

Katie's voice turned pleading. "But you could be. We could be happy again, Elvis. Just like we used to. If you just give me a chance—"

Another pause, heavy with unspoken words. "I can't make any promises, Katie. But... I won't deny that being with you brings back a lot of memories. Good ones."

Clementine's heart raced, her palms sweating as she listened to their exchange. Did Elvis still have feelings for Katie? Was she just a temporary distraction, a way to forget his past heartbreak?

“Why, Elvis? Why can’t you make any promises? Is it... because of her?” Katie asked, Katie asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. "The city girl who's come to play at being a rancher?"

"Don't do that, Katie."

Katie scoffed, the sound sharp and brittle. "Oh, Elvis. Can't you see? She doesn't belong here. She's not one of us. Sooner or later, she'll realize that and go running back to her fancy city life. And where will that leave you?" She got up, dusting herself off. "Sometimes, you're a damned fool, Elvis Presley."

Clementine backed away from the door, her mind reeling. She couldn't bear to hear any more, couldn't face the possibility that Elvis might choose Katie over her. With a choked sob, she turned and fled down the stairs, out into the yard where she could breathe, where she could think.

Shaking her head, Clementine decided to focus on the one thing she could control—her work. She made her way downstairs and out to the barn, determined to throw herself into the daily chores and put all thoughts of Elvis and Katie out of her mind.

As she mucked out the stalls and fed the horses, Clementine found herself falling into a comfortable rhythm. The physical labor was soothing, allowing her to clear her head and focus on the task at hand. Before she knew it, she was hours deep into her tasks, the sun was setting, and it was time to head home. 

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't hear the sound of hoofbeats approaching the front yard until a familiar voice called out, "Clemmie!"

Clementine turned her head, her eyes widening in disbelief. There, sitting in a stagecoach, was Bonnie, her fiery red curls blowing in the breeze and her green eyes sparkling with mischief in the golden hour.

"Bonnie!" Clementine exclaimed, dropping her pitchfork and rushing forward to embrace her friend. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't arriving for another week!"

Bonnie laughed, hugging Clementine tightly. "I couldn't wait that long to see you, darling. I hopped on the first train out of New York and made my way here as fast as I could."

Clementine stepped back, taking in the sight of her best friend. Bonnie looked radiant, her cheeks flushed from the ride and her smile as wide as the sky. "I can't believe you're really here," Clementine said, shaking her head in amazement.

Bonnie grinned, linking her arm through Clementine's. "Well, believe it, darling. I'm here, and I'm ready for an adventure. Now, show me around this ranch of yours. I want to see everything!"

Clementine laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. With Bonnie by her side, everything seemed brighter, more manageable. She led her friend around the ranch, introducing her to the horses and the cattle, showing her the sprawling fields and the cozy bunkhouse.

As they walked, Clementine found herself pouring out her heart to Bonnie, telling her all about Elvis and Katie and the confusion she felt. Bonnie listened intently, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"It sounds to me like you're in love with this Elvis fellow," Bonnie said finally, her tone matter-of-fact.

Clementine sputtered, her cheeks turning crimson. "What? No! I mean, I care about him, of course, but love? That's ridiculous."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Is it? Clemmie, I've known you since we were in pigtails. I've never seen you this worked up over a man before. And from what you've told me, it sounds like he feels the same way about you."

Clementine wilted. "But this Katie… She's beautiful, and accomplished, and she understands this life in a way I never will."

Bonnie took Clementine's hands in hers, her green eyes fierce and determined. "Now you listen to me. You're smart, and strong, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. If this Elvis character can't see that, then he's a fool."

“Thanks, Bon. You always know just what to say. What would I ever do without you?”

“Shrivel up and die of sadness and boredom, most likely,” her best friend laughed. “Now, let's go find some trouble to get into. I've been cooped up on that train for far too long."

Clementine laughed, feeling a rush of affection for her friend. "I think I know just the thing. How do you feel about a little horseback riding?"

Bonnie's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Lead the way, darling. I'm ready for anything."

As they made their way to the stables, Clementine spotted Red and Slim leaning against the fence, deep in conversation. 

Red's eyes widened as he took in Bonnie's fiery red curls and sparkling green eyes. 

Bonnie smiled, holding out her hand. "I’m Bonnie, Clementine's friend from New York."

Red took her hand, holding it a beat longer than necessary. "New York, huh? What brings a city girl like you out to our humble ranch?"

Bonnie laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, you know. Adventure, excitement, the chance to see my best friend in the world."

Red grinned, leaning in closer. "Well, I can certainly promise you adventure and excitement, Miss Bonnie."

Slim rolled his eyes, elbowing Red in the ribs. "Ignore him, Miss Bonnie. He's all talk and no action."

Red chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I don't know about that, Miss Bonnie. I do my best to make all our guests feel welcome."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Is that so? Well, I guess I'll just have to see for myself."

As Bonnie and Red continued their flirtatious banter, Clementine felt her spirits lift. It was good to see her friend getting along so well with the ranch hands.

Suddenly, a shout rang out across the yard. "The fence is down! The cattle are escaping!"

Clementine's heart raced as she saw the herd of cattle stampeding through the broken fence. "We have to round them up!" she cried, running towards the stables.

Red and Slim were already saddling up their horses. "Miss Clementine, you take the north pasture," Red called out. "Slim and I will head south. Rusty, Billy, head east. We'll meet up at the old oak tree." He looked back at Bonnie. “You alright to stay here a spell?”

Bonnie nodded as Clementine swung herself up into the saddle, her face set with determination. 

They rode hard, the wind whipping through their hair as they chased down the errant cattle. It was a minor crisis, but it forced everyone to work together to resolve the issue. 

Finally, after several hours of hard work, they managed to herd the last of the cattle back into the pasture.

Exhausted but triumphant, Clementine, Red, and the rest of the ranch hands made their way back to the house for a very late dinner, where Bonnie was helping prepare a bountiful spread. 

As they entered the dining room, Clementine was surprised to see Katie sitting at the dining table.

"Katie!" Ida exclaimed, setting down a steaming pot of stew. "I'm so glad you could join us for dinner."

Katie smiled, her flaxen hair gleaming in the candlelight.  "Thank you for asking me to stay, Miss Ida. It's always a pleasure to share a meal with friends."

Clementine's stomach churned at the sight of Katie, memories of the woman’s earlier conversation with Elvis still fresh in her mind. She took a seat at the table, trying to ignore the way Katie's eyes seemed to be searching around the room. For him.

Bonnie leaned over to Clementine, her voice low. "So that's the famous Katie Hawthorne? I can see why she's got Elvis all twisted up."

Clementine sighed, nodding. "Yeah, they were going to get married until she up and left one day. They’ve got... history."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "I see."

As they sat down to eat, Clementine found herself seated across from Katie. The blonde gave her a polite smile, but there was a guardedness in her eyes that made Clementine uneasy.

"Clementine, I hear you had quite the adventure today," Katie said, her voice cool but not unkind. "I'm glad to see you're settling into ranch life so well."

Clementine forced a smile, determined to be civil. "Thank you, Katie. This year’s been a learning curve, but I'm enjoying the challenge."

Katie nodded, taking a sip of her water. "It's not an easy life, but it can be a rewarding one. If you're cut out for it."

Clementine bristled at the implication, but before she could respond, the door opened and Elvis stepped into the room. He was moving slowly, his face still pale, but there was a determined set to his jaw.

"Elvis!" Ida exclaimed, her face lighting up. "It's so good to see you up and about!"

"Elvis, darling, you're here," Katie purred, patting the seat beside her. "Come, sit with me. We have so much to catch up on."

Elvis hesitated, his gaze flickering to Clementine before he nodded and took the offered seat. Clementine felt a stab of jealousy, her appetite suddenly deserting her.

"Evening, everyone. Sorry I'm late."

He made his way to the table, his steps measured and careful. As he neared Katie, she reached out and touched his arm, a look of concern on her face. "Elvis, are you sure you should be out of bed? You're still recovering."

Elvis patted her hand. "I'm fine, Katie. Just a little sore, is all. Nothing a good meal and some good company can't fix."

He settled into the chair between Katie and Clementine, his leg brushing against Clem’s under the table. She felt a flush creep up her neck at the contact, her skin tingling where they touched. She forced herself to focus on her plate, not wanting to give away the effect he had on her.

As the meal progressed, Bonnie regaled them all with tales of her adventures in New York, her quick wit and easy charm winning over even the most taciturn of the ranch hands. Red, in particular, seemed taken with her, his eyes rarely straying from her face.

Even so, Clementine couldn’t focus on anything but the strange situation she found herself in. Even as she laughed and chatted with the others, Clementine could feel the weight of Katie's presence, assessing and calculating. It made her feel off-balance, unsure of her place in this world that Katie knew so well. Her stomach roiled. 

She couldn't help but notice the easy familiarity between Elvis and Katie, the way they laughed and reminisced about old times. It was clear they shared a deep bond, a history that Clementine could never hope to match.

"Do you remember old Samson's face when he caught us sneaking out of the barn that night?" Katie giggled, her hand resting on Elvis's arm.

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. "I thought he was gonna skin us alive. But you sweet-talked him out of it, as usual."

"What can I say? I've always been good at getting what I want." Katie's eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips curving into a seductive smile.

Clementine's heart sank as she watched their interaction, doubt gnawing at her insides. Did Elvis still harbor feelings for Katie? Was he considering rekindling their romance?

Bonnie, ever observant, leaned across the table to whisper in Clementine's ear. "Don't let her get to you, Clemmie. She's just trying to stake her claim."

Then, never one to let an awkward moment pass, Bonnie eased back into her chair with a mischievous grin. "So, Elvis, I hear you’re quite the foreman," she said, her voice carrying across the table. "Tell me, what's a handsome cowboy like you doing running a ranch all by your lonesome?"

Elvis choked on his stew, his eyes widening in surprise. The other ranch hands snickered, their faces red with barely suppressed laughter. “Nice to meet you too, Bonnie.”

“No, really! Do pray tell,”Bonnie grinned.

"Well, I... uh..." Elvis cleared his throat, clearly taken aback by Bonnie's forwardness. "I'm not running it alone, y’know. I have a whole team of hardworking folks helping me out."

Bonnie nodded, her expression serious. "Of course, of course. But still, it must get lonely out here sometimes. Don't you ever wish for a little companionship?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Clementine kicked Bonnie under the table, her face flushing with embarrassment. But Bonnie just laughed, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on the usually unflappable Elvis.

As the dinner wore on, Bonnie kept up a steady stream of witty repartee, peppering Elvis with questions about life on the ranch and his plans for the future. The other ranch hands could barely contain their laughter, choking on their food as Bonnie's New York City directness clashed with Elvis's stoic cowboy demeanor.

At some point during the night, while everyone was in their sixth fit of laughter in a row, Bonnie cleared her throat and made an announcement. "I've been thinking," she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I'd like to stay at the ranch for a while longer, if that's alright with you, Clementine."

Red, who had been hanging on Bonnie's every word throughout the meal, sat up straighter in his chair. "That's great news, Miss Bonnie," he said, his voice eager. "I'd be more’n happy to show you around the ranch, if you'd like."

Bonnie smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "I'd like that very much, Red. Thank you."

Clementine nodded, forcing a smile. Her best friend in the world was always welcome. But even as everyone laughed around her, she felt melancholy. Doubts lingered, gnawing at her heart. Somewhere between the second and third course, she felt lightheaded. She stepped out onto the porch, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. The evening's events swirled through her mind—Bonnie's arrival, the weird tension at dinner, sitting next to Elvis and nearly jumping out of her skin when his knee touched hers... 

"Clem?" a familiar voice called out softly from behind her.

She turned to see him standing in the doorway, his handsome face illuminated by the warm glow of the lanterns. 

He came to me, she thought, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

"Y’know, I wasn't sure if you'd be joining us tonight, Elvis, what with you still on the mend and all."

He stepped out onto the porch, his spurs jingling with each movement. "Aw shucks, you know me. I never could resist a party. 'Specially not with that firecracker friend of yours lightin' things up."

Clementine laughed. "Bonnie sure is something, isn't she? Hope she didn't put you too much on the spot in there."

Elvis leaned against the railing beside her, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Nothin' I can't handle. Your girl's got a tongue quicker'n a rattler's strike, but she means well. Kinda reminds me of someone else I know." He shot her a wink.

"Wonder who that could be," Clementine teased, bumping his shoulder playfully with her own. She took a moment to really look at him, warmth blooming in her chest. The past weeks had been hard on him, but he was finally starting to look like his old self again—color in his cheeks, that familiar glint of mischief in his blue eyes.

"I'm real glad you're feeling better, Elvis. We were all so worried about you, you know."

He ducked his head, suddenly bashful. "Shucks, ain't no need for worryin'. Can't keep a stubborn ol' mule like me down for long."

"I have never met a mule half as stubborn as you, Elvis Presley," Clementine ribbed.

"You got me there," he conceded with a chuckle. Then his expression softened. "I never did thank ya proper, Clem. For takin' such good care of me when I was laid up. Ida told me how you were always there, changin' my bandages and makin' sure I took my medicine... I 'preciate it. More'n you know."

Clementine felt a sudden lump in her throat. "Of course, Elvis. There wasn't anywhere else I would've been. I couldn't have bared it if... if we'd lost you. Windy Creek just wouldn't be the same without you."

Elvis looked at her intently, something flickering in his gaze that made her heart skip. "That so?"

"It is," Clementine whispered, feeling pulled in by some invisible force between them.

Elvis reached out, tenderly brushing a stray curl behind her ear. His fingertips lingered on her cheek and Clementine's breath hitched. "Clem, I..."

Just then, the sound of raucous laughter erupted from inside the house, breaking the spell. Elvis dropped his hand and they both took an unconscious step back, the air suddenly thick with words unsaid.

Clementine cleared her throat, trying to calm the riot of butterflies in her stomach. "We should probably head back in soon. Wouldn't want Bonnie to commandeer the whole evening."

"Heaven forbid," Elvis agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking up. 

But neither of them actually moved. Clementine and Elvis lingered on the porch for a moment longer, not quite ready to rejoin the clamor inside. The night air was cool and sweet, the distant sounds of crickets and lowing cattle a soothing backdrop to their companionable silence.

Elvis fished in his pocket for a moment before withdrawing a battered harmonica. At Clementine's curious look, he just grinned and brought it to his full lips, blowing a few soft, experimental notes.

"Huh, I didn't know you played," Clementine said, pleasantly surprised.

Elvis shrugged, his eyes twinkling in the low light. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'. I'm a man of many talents."

"Is that so?" Clementine arched a brow, fighting back a smile. "And here I thought I had you all figured out. The strong, silent type with a heart of gold."

"Aw shucks, you'll make me blush," Elvis teased. He leaned back against the porch rail, cradling the harmonica loosely in his hands. "Nah, I ain't nothin' special. Just a cowpoke who likes a good tune now and then."

"I don't believe that for a second," Clementine said softly. "I think you're a lot more than you let on, Elvis Presley."

He looked at her then, something raw and unguarded in his gaze. "Maybe so. But I could say the same about you. When you first blew into town with your fancy city clothes and your high-falutin' ideas, I reckoned you wouldn't last a month out here."

Clementine huffed out a laugh. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Lemme finish," Elvis chided gently. "What I'm tryin' to say is you surprised me, Clem. You're tougher than you look. Stronger. You've taken to this life like you were born to it, and you ain't afraid to get your hands dirty or speak your mind. It's a rare thing, and I admire it. Admire... you."

Clementine felt a flush creep up her neck at his words, her heart suddenly racing. "I... I don't know what to say. Thank you, Elvis. That means a lot, coming from you."

He ducked his head, suddenly bashful. "Ain't nothin' but the truth. Windy Creek's lucky to have you."

"I think I'm the lucky one," Clementine said softly. "I never knew how much I needed this place, these people, until I found myself here. It's like... like I finally found where I belong." She laughed self-consciously. "Listen to me, getting all sentimental. Bonnie would never let me hear the end of it."

"Secret's safe with me," Elvis promised with a wink. "But I know what you mean. This ranch... it has a way of gettin' under your skin, makin' you feel like a part of somethin' bigger. It ain't always easy, but it's a good life. An honest one." He raised the harmonica to his lips again, blowing a few mournful notes that seemed to hang in the night air.

Clementine closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. When it faded away, she opened them again to find Elvis watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. "That was beautiful," she said honestly. "Will you teach me to play like that?"

Elvis's face split into a delighted grin. "You want to learn? Well alright then, c'mere." He beckoned her closer until they were standing side by side, shoulders almost brushing. He handed her the harmonica, arranging her fingers on the holes. "Now, purse your lips like you're gonna whistle, and blow real gentle-like."

Clementine did as instructed, letting out a breathy, off-key squeak. She dissolved into laughter. "I sound like a dying cow!"

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, that was good for a first try. You just gotta adjust your embouchure a little, like this—" 

“Embou-what?”

“Embouchure. What, you don’t speak Eye-talian?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s French.”

“Oh.” The two erupted into laughter, a deep belly ache that had them soon doubled over the porch railing and wiping tears from their eyes. 

“Your mouth position, silly girl. Look at me, teachin’ a fancy New York City girl something!” 

Clem playfully slapped him on the arm. “I am not fancy!” She bent her leg to show him her well-worn, mud-covered boot. “See?” 

Elvis laughed and brought his own hands up to cup hers, guiding the harmonica back to her mouth. This close, she could feel the heat of him, could catch the faint scent of leather and soap and something uniquely Elvis. It made her head swim pleasantly.

Under his careful tutelage, Clementine managed to produce a passable chord. She beamed up at him, giddy with the small success. "I did it!"

"Sure did," Elvis praised, his eyes warm and proud. "Stick with me, kid, and you'll be a regular vir-tu-o-so in no time. Or... is that another word I gotta teach ya?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

They stayed like that for a while, huddled together in the pool of lantern light, trading the harmonica back and forth as Elvis taught her a simple melody. It was a rare moment of peace, a stolen pocket of time where the rest of the world and all its troubles fell away. 

As the moon climbed higher in the star-strewn sky, Clementine finally straightened up with a sigh. "I suppose we really should head back in. Bonnie's liable to send out a search party if we stay out here much longer."

Elvis huffed out a laugh. "Lord have mercy. I don't think I'm ready for another interrogation quite yet." He hesitated for a beat, then reached out to take Clementine's hand in his. "Clem, I... I just wanted to say..."

But before he could finish the thought, the porch door banged open and Bonnie's vibrant red head poked out. "There you are! I was starting to think you two had run off together." Her green eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in their linked hands and close proximity.

Clementine felt a blush stain her cheeks and she stepped back self-consciously, dropping Elvis's hand. "Bonnie! We were just... Elvis was showing me how to play the harmonica."

"Uh huh," Bonnie teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "Well, hell, don't let me interrupt. I just came to tell you that apparently Ida's famous peach pie is being served, and if you don't get in there soon, Slim's liable to eat the whole thing himself."

"We'll be right there," Clementine promised. Bonnie flashed them a knowing grin and a jaunty salute before disappearing back inside, leaving them alone once more.

Clementine turned back to Elvis, an apology on her lips, but he just shook his head with a rueful smile. "Never a dull moment with that one around, is there?"

"Welcome to my world," Clementine said dryly. "I love that girl to pieces, but subtlety's never been her strong suit."

"Seems to me she's just lookin' out for her best friend," Elvis mused. "Can't fault her for that. You're lucky to have someone who cares about you so much. Hell, we all care about you."

For a suspended moment, they just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken longing. Elvis's gaze dropped to her mouth, his thumbs sweeping over the delicate arch of her cheekbones. Clementine's lips parted on a shallow inhale, her body thrumming with anticipation.

But before either of them could close that final distance, a sudden crash sounded from inside the house, followed by a peal of laughter and Red's booming voice calling out an apology.

The spell was broken. Elvis released her and stepped back, clearing his throat roughly. "We should, uh... we should probably get in there. Before they tear the place down around Miss Ida's ears."

"Right," Clementine agreed, trying to calm the riot of her pulse. "We wouldn't want that."

Elvis held out his arm to her, a small, crooked smile on his lips. "Shall we, boss lady?"

As the evening wound down, Katie stood up, smoothing her skirts. "Well, I should be getting back to Big Sky. Early morning tomorrow." She turned to Elvis, a soft smile on her face. "Walk me out?"

Elvis hesitated, glancing at Clementine. But then he nodded, pushing back his chair. "Of course."

Clementine watched them go, her heart sinking. She knew it was foolish to read too much into a simple gesture of courtesy. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, that Katie's return had stirred up old feelings best left buried.

Bonnie, sensing her friend's distress, reached over to squeeze her hand. "Don't worry, Clemmie. He'll come around. He just needs time to sort through his feelings."

Clementine nodded, trying to take comfort in her friend's words. But the doubt lingered, a small, insistent voice in the back of her mind.

“Yeah, well, maybe by then I’ll already have moved on.”

*

Clementine sat at the card table, trying to focus on the game of poker in front of her. But her attention kept drifting to the table across the room, where Elvis and Katie sat huddled together, laughing and whispering like old friends.

She couldn't help but compare their easy intimacy to the tender moment she and Elvis had shared on the porch just a few nights ago. The way he had looked at her, the gentle brush of his fingers against her cheek... it had felt so real, so meaningful.

But now, watching him with Katie, Clementine couldn't help but wonder if she had been reading too much into it. If the connection she thought they shared was nothing more than wishful thinking on her part.

"Clemmie? It's your turn, darling." Bonnie's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and Clementine blinked, realizing she had been staring off into space.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She studied her cards, trying to remember what game they were even playing. Across from her, Red and Lyle exchanged knowing glances, their eyes flickering between her and the other table.

Clementine felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and frustration. Was she really so transparent? Did everyone on the ranch know about her foolish, unrequited feelings for Elvis?

She was just about to make a halfhearted bet when the door to the bunkhouse swung open and Ida bustled in, a letter clutched in her hand.

"Miss Clementine, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I completely forgot to give you this earlier. It arrived with the afternoon post." She held out the envelope, her face creased with a smile.

Clementine took the letter, recognizing Joseph's familiar handwriting. She had been corresponding with her old friend for weeks, sharing stories about life on the ranch and seeking his advice when things with Elvis got complicated. It had become a comforting routine, a way to stay connected to her old life while embracing her new one.

She opened the envelope, expecting to find another friendly, chatty letter full of news from home and words of encouragement. But as her eyes scanned the first few lines, Clementine felt her stomach drop.

"Oh no," she muttered under her breath. "Oh no, no, no. I’ve really made a mess now."

"Clemmie? What is it? What's wrong?" Bonnie leaned in close, her voice low and concerned.

Clementine looked up, her face pale. "It's Joseph. He's... he's coming to Windy Creek. Says he's booked a ticket and everything."

Bonnie's eyes widened. "Joseph? As in, your Joseph?"

Clementine nodded miserably. "I've been writing to him, just as a friend. I never thought he'd actually come out here. Oh, Bonnie, what am I going to do?"

Bonnie reached out, squeezing Clementine's hand. "Don't panic, Clemmie. We'll figure this out. It's not like you invited him, right?"

Clementine shook her head. "No, of course not. But... what if Elvis finds out? What if he thinks..." She trailed off, her gaze drifting back to the other table where Elvis and Katie sat, still deep in conversation.

Bonnie followed her gaze, her expression thoughtful. Even she had to admit it: "Clementine, honey, I don't think you have anything to worry about on that front. Elvis is clearly still hung up on Little Miss Perfect over there."

Clementine sighed, her heart sinking. Bonnie was right. Elvis had made his feelings for Katie abundantly clear. What right did she have to be upset about Joseph's visit when Elvis was practically fawning over his ex-fiancée right in front of her?

Still, the thought of her former beau showing up unannounced, stirring up old memories and complications... it was enough to make Clementine's head spin.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "Okay," she said, more to herself than to Bonnie. "Okay. I can handle this. It's just a friendly visit from an old friend, right? No big deal."

Bonnie nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Exactly. And who knows? Maybe a little competition is just what Mr. Stubborn over there needs to pull his head out of his rear and realize what he's got right in front of him."

Clementine couldn't help but laugh at that, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Trust Bonnie to find the silver lining in even the most awkward of situations.

Across the room, Elvis glanced over at the sound of Clementine's laughter, his brow furrowing slightly. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, that the letter Ida had delivered had upset Clementine in some way.

But before he could dwell on it further, Katie was leaning in close again, her hair brushing against his cheek as she whispered something in his ear. Elvis forced a smile, trying to focus on the conversation at hand, but Katie’s perfume smelled so good.

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[justinewt]

To Choose Who Lives And Who Dies - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Thirty-One

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

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Summary: Bellamy and Michelle had made a choice that sealed the fate of hundreds of their people, only making possible for 100 of them to survive inside Alpha station, but Clarke chose to keep their people in the dark, doing the exact same thing Jaha had done on the Ark. Everyone worked hard on fixing the ship, unaware that most of them wouldn't survive the radiation coming their way. Raven, Clarke and Bellamy argued over this for days and when they found Jaha trying to leave camp with the rover, they confront him, and he claims he has a lead - a way to ensure the salvation of all 500 of them, but is it another one of his whims that will cost people's lives? As were Mount Weather and Alie?

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: The 100 season 4 spoilers (episode 3 "The Four Horsemen"), title from a quote from the book Storm Siren by Mary Weber, angst, heart to heart, grief

Everyone was working hard to get the ship ready for the radiation, the black rain and everything that was yet to come their way. They made a choice when they decided to free their people from the Azgedan and they were now over 500 people in Arkadia, all while the ship, even fully fixed and prepared, would only sustain a little over a hundred people, as Raven said. Michelle wasn’t the only one to now realize that for the sake of a few, they comdemned 400 of their people and Clarke didn’t tell any of them, to use their hope as fuel for their determination to get the ship ready. Raven was mad about it and Michelle did feel responsible for it because she chose to make this choice, with Bellamy. He wasn’t the only one to blame. When the others had all voted, they looked at each other knowing they would follow whatever choice the other made and Michelle wanted to help them, and he did too. She wondered, if she had chosen the opposite, to bring back the hydrogenator, if he would have followed her call. He most likely would have, to be honest, but she didn’t. And neither did he.

“Two meals a day for people working as hard as ours, we won’t make any friends.” Bellamy said as they walked into the room. Raven was standing on the last step of a ladder, her back to them, blowtorch in hand as she repaired the structure of the ship. Clarke was pushing a full cart in front of her.

“Well, if there’s one thing our people understand, it’s rationing.” Clarke declared. It was true, with what they had to do on the Ark, it would make sense for them to understand the urgency of the situation. Michelle helped as they put away the plastic pockets of vacuum-packed food on the shelves. “Besides, once we close those doors, it’ll be one meal for the next 5 years.”

“Try one meal every other day.” Raven lifted her protective mask and turned towards them. She stepped down from the ladder and took it off. She was very much, and understandably, still bitter regarding their choice about the hydro generator, and the fact Clarke chose to lie to everyone. “Hunting parties are coming back with less and less. Thanks to your friend Niylah, we’re preserving more meat than ever, but it’s still not enough. Without a way to make water, growing our own protein like we did on the ark is not an option.” She stuffed her mask in Bellamy’s hand as she spoke. “Remember that when we’re starving.”

“I won’t be starving because I won’t be inside.” Michelle instantly looked up at him, frowning. Thoughts raced through her head, and she parted her lips, but she said nothing.

“Yes, you will.” Clarke was about as confused and as against it as she was. Michelle subtly shook her head – no, she wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself to make up for the decision he made. She made it with him. If he stayed outside the ship, she would too, and she quickly realized, as she thought about it, that her father would never let her die but if she stayed alive, Bellamy had to stay alive as well, otherwise how was she supposed to just go on with her life after basically letting him kill himself. It would be just like when she almost lost her father. She would never have been able to go on with her life. There were only three people whose deaths would destroy her – her father, Clarke, and Bellamy. When Clarke was away, she survived thanks to her father, and the thought that Clarke was alive.

“Does that mean you made the list?” Raven enquired.

“No. What about drinking water?”

“Clarke, don’t change the subject. We need to know who’s gonna be on the inside of these doors when the radiation comes.” Bellamy and Michelle were both watching them talk from the corner of their eyes as they kept on putting away the food, but she would have a chat with Bellamy later.

“We don’t need to know now.” The conversation was cut short when a voice came over the PA system. Sick people were at the camp’s gate. The four of them rushed outside and at the gate, the guards were holding a bunch of grounders at gunpoint, warning them not to come any closer. Bellamy, Clarke, Michelle and Raven broke through the small crowd and the line of guards to see what this was about. They recognized one of the grounders, Nyko, as he put a little girl on the ground. Two others were bent forward, on their knees, coughing. Michelle squinted her eyes, looking at the woman. Her long, dark red hair reminded her of someone else’s and as Clarke slowly walked up to them, she realized it was Luna.  

“What if it’s a grounder attack like they did with Murphy?” Miller wondered, wary. Michelle shook her head.

“No, that’s not it. Bellamy, look, it’s Luna.” She patted his arm with the back of her fingers and pointed at the woman. He wasn’t sure as they couldn’t see her face, but she recognized her hair and was convinced it was the grounder from the oil rig, though her hair was less voluminous than it was then, and dirtier. She and Bellamy followed Clarke as she walked up to them.

“What happened to them?” She asked.

“The sickness. We lost more than 40 on the way.” The woman she thought was Luna coughed, lifting her head slightly and Bellamy finally saw it was actually her.

“Luna?”

“See? I knew it was her.” Luna looked up at them, weakly. She looked beyond exhausted and drained of all her energy. She exchanged a gaze with Michelle, probably wondering how she recognized her, but she then looked at Clarke.

“Please, don’t turn us away because of what I did to you.” Clarke didn’t say anything, turning to her friends next to her. Abby then arrived, joining them outside the gate. She put a cloth over her mouth and nose, just in case, but quickly took it off and got to her knees to take a close look at the little girl in Nyko’s arms. Clarke kneeled beside her while the others watched.

“Mom, what is this?”

“Fever, lesions, vomiting. It’s ARS.”

“What’s ARS?” Bellamy asked, really speaking for all of them as none, aside from Clarke maybe, knew what she was talking about.

“Acute radiation sickness.” He, Raven and Michelle all exchanged a glance as Clarke stood up.

“When did the symptoms start?”

“I’m not sure. Right before the fish started dying.” Luna said.

“The fishs are dying?” Raven spoke. If animals were dying, this meant less food for everyone.

“Floating on the sea to the horizon in every direction.” Nyko added.

“It’s not contagious. Let’s get them to Medbay. Come on.” Abby helped them up and Raven went with her and the grounders. Clarke went next to Bellamy and Michelle, who had kneeled next to a young woman lying on the ground.

“It’s already here.” Neither of them said anything else to Clarke’s statement. It was grave enough. What Alie had warned them about, the nuclear power plants melting and the radiation and everything coming, was already there. It it had hit the oil rig out on the ocean, it was but a short flight for land. Michelle immidietaly thought of her father still in Polis and pulled her eyebrows closer in worry, staring at the ground, hoping he would come back to Arkadia before it reached the city. 

In Medbay, the sick grounders were getting worse, barely moving from their beds. Clarke was further in the room, with her mother and Jackson, discussing their state and possible treatments. Bellamy and Michelle walked in, looking around. She winced in disgust at the sight of Luna vomiting black blood into a bucket and frowned worriedly as she reached for a cloth and approached to give it to her once she was done. It was quite painful to see her like this. It didn’t matter that they weren’t close to her. Michelle felt Bellamy standing just a few inches behind her and his hand gently finding her shoulder.

“You think I deserve this for refusing the flame?”

“No.” Michelle replied, a mere second after Luna spoke. “No one deserves to suffer.”

“Besides, this would’ve happened anyway.” Bellamy added. Clarke came to see them.

“This is all that’s left of my people. Can you save them?”

“We’ll do everything we can. You have my word.” They took a few steps away when she coughed again, to talk, just the three of them. “Tell me something good.”

“Raven’s looking for us.” He walked back to the door, his hand sliding down as he let go of Michelle’s arm and they left the infirmary to go find Raven. She brought them to the computer screens and one of them showed a map, with dashed lines linking the rig to Arkadia and Polis.

“So, Luna’s rig is here, and if the fish in these waters are dying, well basically we’re screwed.”

“I don’t understand. Alie said we had 6 months.” Hands on his hips, he looked at the screen with a subtle frown.

“We don’t.”

“Well, then how long do we have?” Clarke wondered.

“It’s hard to say. Radiation is dispersed by jet stream and carried by ocean currents, so it’s not an exact science, but the leading indicators are small species die-offs — fish, insects. Based on the new data, I’d say we have… Two months of survivability…” Clarke looked defeated as she turned her head towards Bellamy and Michelle, and they seemed just as stunned. “Maybe less.”

“The ark won’t be ready.” He said quietly, shaking his head.

“It’ll be close. If we triple the man hours and work round the clock, we should be able to achieve a hard seal before the black rain comes. We just have to decide who gets to live here.”

“Raven, we’re not talking about the list again.”

Michelle sighed, “We have to talk about it.”

“Yes. Michelle’s right, Clarke. We are running out of time. We have to make a plan for the day we close the doors, drill for it, make sure only the survivors have guns, agree on protocols for dealing with the people who are pissed off they’re not chosen. You asked me to be in charge of rationing, and I’m doing it, but choosing who gets to live or die is your speciality.” As she was about to respond, the sound of the Rover’s engine reached their ears and she turned around, glancing over her shoulder. As Raven then added, no one was scheduled to take the rover. They walked briskly in the corridors and exited through the hangar’s doors. The SUV was right outside. Jaha was inside. Bellamy knocked on the driver’s side door, ordering the old chancellor to get out of the vehicle and opened the door.

“I need to make a run.”

Raven took a step forward, “All supply go through me, and you shouldn’t be working on the patch to sector 5?” Bellamy gave a nod to the side motioning for him to get out. Jaha stepped out of the rover and the door was slammed behine him.

“A patch for a ship that can only save a hundred people? Why are you surprised? I am an engineer. We have no way to generate water. The harder number is 400. Can you really sentence 400 more of our own people to death?”

“We don’t have a choice.” She exclaimed. They glanced over their shoulders at the people working nearby. They were looking at them after hearing her raise her voice at Jaha and quickly looked away.

“What if you do? What if I told you there might be a fallout shelter less than a day’s drive from here – a fallout shelter built to sustain thousands?”

“What if it’s like Mount weather or your fucking city of light? Both were your ideas, and they were terrible ideas – hundreds died.” Michelle spoke crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at Jaha.

“We’ve been through the chancellor’s file anyway. All the bunkers you considered for the hundred were listed as compromised or unviable, and now Mount Weather is too.” His eyes went from Michelle to Raven.

“Those were government bunkers.” He turned back around and opened the driver’s side door but instead of it being to get back into the vehicle, he handed something to Clarke. A notepad showing an article.

“A doomsday cult?” Bellamy read as Clarke swiped right to look at the other articles on there.

“That’s right – the second dawn.”

“They built a bunker?” She took her eyes off the small screen.

“Their whole theology was based on riding out the end of the world.

“And why didn’t you consider it?” Raven enquired. Michelle listened and looked at the notepad as Clarke read and swiped. There were lots of articles on this.

“We couldn’t prove it existed.”

“So why are you considering it now?” Bellamy wasn’t the only one of them to be doubtful of his intentions with this new plan of his. They were all distrustful of him after all that happened because of him.

“Because before now, we didn’t need it.”

“You found it, didn’t you?” He looked around before answering Clarke.

“We can’t be sure unless we check it out.” And on that he wasn’t wrong, and Michelle looked to the side, annoyed, her arms crossed in the same fashion as Raven’s. Both were reluctant to listen to the man. Michelle even more so. He did put her in solitary confinement when all she ever did ‘wrong’ was being Clarke’s best friend and knowing something she shouldn’t have known and for that she was then as much of a danger as Clarke was. And she was a pretty defiant teenager back on the ark. It was a known fact that she often talked back to her mom and though she wasn’t the kid she used to be anymore, she still heavily disliked Jaha and if he happened to be in a life-or-death kind of situation, she already knew she would let him die. While she was thinking, she heard Raven and Clarke argue. Raven wasn’t about to let Jaha take the rover.

“We need that rover for hauling pieces of a 3-ton patch we’re build—” She was cut off mid-sentence.

“Yeah, but if he’s right, we don’t need a patch.”

“Can I talk to you guys for a second?” They stepped aside to speak in private, out of Jaha’s earshot. “Can you, Michelle, please remind Clarke what happened the last time Jaha went looking for salvation, as you’ve already mentioned, in case Clarke wasn’t listening?”

Michelle sighed through her nose, letting her arms fall to her side, glancing at Jaha from the corner of her eyes, not so sure anymore of what to say, though she perfectly knew what Raven was referring to – what she had said about the city of light killing hundreds of people because of Jaha’s whim. She didn’t say anything this time and Bellamy spoke in her stead.

“Raven, if that bunker is real, we can save a lot more than a hundred people.”

“If it’s not, we’ve lost another day.”

“Hey, look. If it’s not, I’ll make the list… Okay?”

She sighed, glaring at the three of them, “Do what you want. I’ve got a ship to seal.” They watched her leave before turning to Jaha. This time, Michelle was the one glaring while Bellamy took his place in the driver’s seat, and they sat in the back and drove out of camp. Clarke was in the passenger seat at the front with Bellamy and Michelle was especially unhappy to have to sit across from Jaha, her arms crossed as she leaned back. Clarke watched the video linked on an article and the voice of a man doing a presentation on a stage rose from the notepad.

“The end is coming, and it’s coming soon.”

“He gave this speech two weeks before the bombs.” Jaha said. Michelle slightly lifted her head to look over the seat and Clarke’s shoulder at the screen, the man speaking was the founder of this Second dawn thing, shoulder-length hair and a beard, he kind of reminded her of how her father looked with his beard and hair too, but in black.

“The world is dark and getting darker all the time. Everything we once trusted has turned on us — government, religion. Even technology has become a weapon in their hands used to poison our minds. I know you’re in pain. I know you’re afraid, but it doesn’t have to be like this. There is a way out of the darkness. I can show it to you. You can be saved. Join us, and together, when the horsemen come, from the ashes, we will rise.”

Clarke handed it back to him, “Please tell me you have more than this.”

“In the two years before the bombs, Cadogan sold off most of the second dawn’s real estate holdings, generating tens of millions of dollars, but there was one thing he didn’t sell.” Michelle had seen him swipe a couple times across the pad’s screen before giving it back to Clarke to show her something else. Michelle leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. “I found this in his autobiography. His father built a bunker there to save his family. I think Cadogan used the church’s money to expand it.”

“Grew up there. Maybe he kept it for sentimental value.” Bellamy figured.

Jaha quietly chuckled through his nose, “Hmm. His father beat him almost daily in that house. He hated living there.”

“Why keep it if you’re liquidating everything else?” Clarke wondered.

“Because that bunker is there. I can feel it.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s there. Doesn’t mean we can use it. It was a century ago. And we’ve been on the ground for almost half a year – if there were survivors like in Mount weather we would’ve known by now.”

“Maybe not survivors, but the bunker is there.”

She shot up her eyebrows, rolling her eyes, and repeated herself under her breath, “doesn’t mean we can survive there.”

“She’s not wrong. And the guy sounds like a religious fanatic to me.” Bellamy spoke.

“Maybe, or maybe he was just a leader willing to do whatever it took to save his people.”

“Like you, you mean?” Michelle chuckled but she wasn’t smiling, not even a smirk. She was glaring at him, slouching back, in the shadow of Clarke’s seat, arms still crossed, gripping tighly on each other. He locked eyes with her. She wasn’t one to speak much or initiate conflicts, but she couldn’t help but speak her mind and try to get into an argument with him though she knew beforehand that he would keep his composure easily and anger her. She felt as though she was 15 or 16 again and getting back at her mom for something she said or not wanting to tell her about her dad yet again. There were only few people whom she held a grudge against, and Jaha was the only one still alive. She had forgiven her mother months ago, same with her father and Pike was dead and she couldn’t care less about him. But Jaha was still annoying her with his presence. He let out another of his chuckles and she frowned.

“You hate me. I understand.” Her frown went from one of anger to one of confusion and she squinted her eyes, wondering what made him think he could understand her one bit. But his tone of voice aggravated her. He sounded as though she was still the kid he had locked up.

“Don’t patronize me, Jaha.” She gritted her teeth, clenching her jaw. Neither Bellamy nor Clarke said anything for now, looking at them through the rearview mirror. “Your mistake is that you think you understand. But you’re right – I do hate you.”

“I am sorry.”

“Well, you’ve got a lot of things to be sorry for.” She wasn’t buying it and wouldn’t accept his apology even if it were genuine and sincere. She wouldn’t accept any apology from him because she didn’t care about him and his words were of no value to her. She didn’t like him on the Ark, and she despised him on the ground. She never respected him, and he was smart enough to know it.

“I know.” He nodded, glancing at his hands joined at his knees as he leaned forward. “I want to apologize for a lot of things.”

“Save your breath.” She looked away, losing interest in talking to him. He began with apologizing for how the city of light events turned out and she pursed her lips, staring at the car’s back door. “You forced my dad to take the chip.” He was about to say something, and she knew he would find an excuse for himself, so she continued. “It was your choice to do what you did – your choice to take the chip. I saw his hands. You tortured him to make him take the chip.

“I am sorry, Michelle.” She finally crossed his gaze again. Her eyes were shining slightly, gradually getting teary as she spoke through her gritted teeth, trying to contain herself.

“I almost killed my dad, because he was under Alie’s control and almost— almost killed Bellamy. I picked up a fucking metal bar and almost bashed my father’s head in.” Her nostrils flared and she swallowed harshly. “You saw how Octavia stabbed Pike, at the end? If my dad was dead, I would have killed you too. My mother’s gone – I couldn’t have lost him too.” Her voice got quieter as she looked away. “It's not even been 5 months since I found out he’s my father.”

“Callie didn’t want you to know.” She instantly turned her face back to him. Her facial features were no longer so tense.

“You knew?” She asked, almost whispering.

“Most of us – at the council – did. Those close to your mother. But it was her choice not to tell you that Marcus was your father. It was obvious to us.”

“I’m aware that Abby knew but— the whole council?”

“Yes.” He finally admitted and Michelle’s facial expression was now overtaken by the shock. She had no idea that over a dozen people knew that Kane was her father the whole time, and that none of them ever cared enough to tell her when all she had ever wanted, ever since she was a kid, was to know her father. It was the cause of so much tension and so many disputes with her mother when she was a teenager. It could have all been avoided if she hadn’t been lied to her whole life. She wouldn’t have been too mad if Abby had been the only one to know – she was her mother’s best friend after all – but finding out that almost every single adult around her knew. She was so stunned she didn’t even know how to react to this. She shook her head, her arms uncrossing. She asked herself a question she had already asked herself before – if Kane actually knew or not. She didn’t exactly remember what Abby said to this. Maybe he knew but didn’t want to face it, or rather couldn’t face it. Or he really didn’t. Either way, she had forgiven him anything he might have done wrong, and they worked on their relationship and as she thought about this, she realized that their relationship got so good and close-knitted because he was alive, allowing them to talk things through.

And she also came to the realization that she had lied to herself – she hadn’t fully forgiven her mother and she was one of the dead people she still held somewhat of a grudge against, and she hated herself because it would always be this way because her mother was dead and they could never discuss all this face to face, and it was eating at her. She hated herself for not being able to just let it go and forgive her mother, because she loved her so much. She hadn’t realized that as she got lost in her thoughts, the rover had gotten silent. Her lips quivered and she squinted her eyes as tears flooded them. He spoke again and she glared at him through her tears and told him to shut up, eventually raising her voice at him and storming out of the moving car. She heard Bellamy swear and call out to her as she hopped off through the backdoor, almost losing her balance as she landed on the ground and she walked away with a brisk step, wiping the tears that had rolled down her cheeks and trying to keep the rest of them from falling. She could hear that the car had stopped behind her and though she walked quickly, Bellamy reached her even quicker, jogging towards her. He had called her names quite a few times, but she hadn’t responded. It wasn’t that she deliberately wanted to ignore him, but she just couldn’t respond.

“I can walk back.” She insisted. He grabbed her arms and drew her into a tight hug as she broke into tears. She tried to apologize for wasting their time with this, but he dismissed it and she cried, resting her cheek against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him, her hands gripping onto his jacket like claws. What she had just found out had made her feel like everyone around her had been taking her for a fool for her entire life and she felt disabused. He rubbed her back to comfort her and gently cradled her head, bringing strands of hair behind her ear. In this moment there was only one other thing that she wanted most. Her voice was shaking, broken with sobs, “I want to see my dad.”

“I know.” He felt for her, but unfortunately, he couldn’t really say anything else, because he couldn’t assure her that she would seem him soon. All he could do was support her as he did in this moment. They returned to the rover a minute later. Clarke was standing outside the vehicle, by the passenger’s door and she came up to them, giving a compassionate look to her childhood best friend.

“Ignore Jaha, okay? Take my seat. I’ll go in the back.” She walked around the car while Michelle took her place in the passenger seat, arms crossed as she slumped in the seat, bringing her legs to her chest and letting her knee lean against the door. Bellamy got in as Jaha quietly apologized again and he told him off.

“Shut up, Jaha. You’ve talked enough.” Michelle didn’t even look at him from the corner of her eyes. She stared straight ahead of her through the windshield and Bellamy started the car again. They drove through the thick forest until night fell, a few hours later. Jaha turned on a flashlight and if not for the spotlights at the front of the car, it would be totally pitch-black outside. They could barely see anything anyway. He stopped the rover, and they got out, sweeping the area with their flashligths.

“Cadogan learned how to survive from his father.” Jaha said. “They hunted in these woods.” He held up the tablet, lining up the pitcute of the house and trees with the background. “This is it.”

“Well, if anyone’s entitled to a lucky break, we are.” Bellamy declared.

“You hear that?” They all looked at him, not hearing anything and it was exactly what he wanted them to hear. There were no insects. Except he had no idea what it actually meant and he immidietaly saw the way the three of them looked at each other with worry. “What?”

“Luna said the fish were dying.” Clarke told him.

“What are the things that eat the fish and bugs gonna eat now?” Bellamy wondered.

“What happened to us deserving a lucky break?” They kept on walking. “So, what are we looking for?”

“The bunker would have been at the lowest point.”

“Anything structural. Be careful.” They gave Bellamy a nod and began searching the area. Michelle was following Clarke, and she glanced over her shoulder, stopping in her tracks for a second when she saw Jaha talking to Bellamy. She wondered what he might be telling him now but then Clarke’s voice got her attention and made her turn her head back to her, stepping over the fern’s leaves as she walked over to her. She had found something. Jaha and Bellamy joined them quickly. The latter advised them to stay behind him as they climbed down the stairs. Plants had grown over the entrance, and he cleared the way as he went down. The inside was insalubrious, roots growing all over the walls and spider webs absolutely everywhere – webs so big they were hanging from one wall to another like curtains. Bellamy broke them apart with his hand. At the back, they found a skeleton sat against the wall with thick spider webs covering him. Bellamy kneeled in front of it to take a closer look and grabbed something from its hand. What looked like a sort of large coin with the second dawn symbol and motto written around it.

“From the ashes, we will rise.” He stood up, glancing at the skeleton with a sigh. “Not this guy.”

Jaha turned the coin around and Roman numerals were written on the back. “The 11th seal. Their faith was based on 12 seals. Followers could level up by unlocking them one at a time. Only those who reached level 12 could achieve salvation.

“Huh. Maybe that’s why they didn’t let him in.” Clarke figured as she looked around, seeing a lichen covered bunker door behind them. Jaha was quite happy to see the bunker did exist. “What if they’re still in there?”

Bellamy knocked loudly on the door. “Hey! Is anyone there?”

“It’s still sealed.” Jaha concluded after looking along the door. But there were no locks or handles. There was no way they could unseal the door. The former chancellor than told them why it was – the door was designed to be opened from the inside.

“Or from the outside, by somebody with a rover.” They pulled a cable from the car all the way to the door and Bellamy started the vehicle. The cable tightened and he kept going. They all watched carefully to see if something happened. They heard metal creak, and something came flying out, hitting a tree and falling to the ground, barely avoiding the car. They had no idea if it worked or if something went wrong so they went down there again to see it for themselves. The bunker’s door was in fact open but Michelle was pretty pessimistic. She thought that, now that they forced the door open, it wouldn’t be livable anyway. And that was if the inside wasn’t as insalubrious as the first room. The room was plunged in the dark, and silence. Bellamy lit up a flare and held it high in front of him, the red incandescent light allowing them to see. The bunker was like an immense cave, spreading out before them. Hundreds of bodies were lying there. It wasn’t sealed. They all died from the bombs’ radiation, thinking they would survive.

“This won’t save anyone.” Bellamy concluded gravely. The trio glanced at each other. Michelle wasn’t so surprised, but it was still a great disappointment. They followed Jaha all the way there and again, he had been wrong and on top of that, she found out she had been lied to even more than she already knew. It had gotten her wondering if anyone ever took her seriously before.

When they returned to Arkadia, it was the middle of the night, but people were still up and going, working around the camp. They went to a room to talk privately after this failure of an outing and Bellamy and Michelle fell asleep on the couch, his arms wrapped around her as she lied on side, her face resting on his chest, blotti entre les coussins et le corps de Bellamy. They had gone to sleep, leaving Clarke to think about and work on the list of the 100 people that would have the right to be inside Alpha station when the radiation came. Michelle lifted her head when she felt Bellamy wake up and move. They looked at each other tenderly and sat up, noticing Clarke crying at the desk. She crossed their gazes as they stood up and approached and looked back to the sheet of paper in front of her.

“If we’re on the list, you’re on that list.”

“Bellamy, I can’t.” She cried.

“Write it down.” He insisted, speaking for the both of them. “Write it down, or I will.” He took the matter into his own hands when she shook her head, unable to bring herself to write her own name as the last of the list. He grabbed the pen and wrote it in her stead.  Michelle walked past him, putting a comforting hand on Clarke’s shoulder. She put her hand on top of it.

“So what now?” She asked with a shrug.

“Now we put it away, and hope we never have to use it.”

“You still have hope?”

“We still breathing?” The corner of his lips rose in a faint smirk. His hand joined the two girls’ and Clarke rested her cheeks against them, taking a deep, shaky breath. Michelle then told her to get some sleep, she gave them a nod, and the two left, headed towards their room. It ended up being a quite emotional and tough day for all of them. When she would be reunited with her father, Michelle would ask if whether he really had no idea, she was his child, or if he did, and chose not to say anything, and how he actually felt about her the whole time because she knew how she felt about him – she didn’t like him and she let him know anytime she could. It was immature of her, but she was a child, and she knew her father wouldn’t hold it against her, ever. She really wanted to have this talk with him again. There were still things he had to tell her.

[To be continued…]  

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Published (08/13/2024) by Andrea

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