Bellamy smashed his fist into the nearest tree with such force that leaves fell to the floor all around him. Again and again he punched the tree in pure frustration, cursing and swearing.

"Bellamy stop. Bellamy!" Clarke shouted, dropping her pack to the ground.

They were in the middle of the forest, close to grounder territory. It was quiet, not even the birds dared to sing. There was a heaviness in the air, a thickness that Clarke had not felt since leaving The Ark. Bellamy pressed his head against his arm, resting on the trunk. Clarke could see the sweat dripping down his neck and dampening his shirt. His breathing was labored and breath short.

"Bellamy?" she took a careful step forwards. She watched as his muscles visibly tensed. His shirt strained at his shoulders. They had all gained more muscle since the landing and clothes had become smaller, tighter even. She could make out every curve and ripple across his back.

"Go away Clarke" he barked. She took a surprise step backwards then forwards again, closer this time.

"Bellamy it's alright," she soothed. "It's alright to be afraid, to be uncertain."

He looked down at her skeptically, his expression etched in stone. He had built his walls so high and so thick that she wasn't sure what emotions were real and which were not.

"I just need to be alone. Go back to camp." Bellamy pushed himself off the tree and began to walk away. Clarke's lips tightened into a scowl, he was so stubborn and headstrong it made her want to scream.

"Hey!" she ran after him and grabbed his arm. He shook her off without so much as a glance in her direction. She reached for him again and this time he turned around so abruptly that she nearly fell on him.

"What?"

"Don't you see Bell, you don't have to be alone. There are people who care about you back there," Clarke said, motioning back to the camp. There was a long pause and then she reached up to cup his bloodied cheek, "I care about you Bellamy."

She gently caressed his scars with her thumb, his skin feverish under her hand. He was staring down at her with glazed eyes.

"No Clarke. Don't you see? I am poison! Poison to everyone who comes into contact with me. I am a ticking time bomb and I have already killed over 300 people!" he shouted. He dropped her hand as if it scorched his very skin. "You cannot care for me, you understand?"

He was looking down at her with such raw agony that it made her heart ache. When he was this close to her she could smell the sharp scent of oak and leather on him. She could make out every freckle, every scar on his face. She tilted her head.

"No I don't understand. I don't understand why you think you need to be alone, but the reason you just gave me is definitely not it. You want to be alone because it's easier that way isn't it? Easier to keep people out. I was locked up for a long time Bell and I know no one wants to be alone, not even you."

It was at that moment that Bellamy's walls began to crumble. For the first time in years, his facial expression revealed what was happening beneath solid stone. To Clarke he no longer looked like a soldier made of iron. He looked like a boy.

"I can't live with myself," he whispered. "Everyone hates me, wants me dead."

"Stop it! I won't let that happen! When they get down here I'll make sure of it," Clarke once more touched her hand to his burning cheek. "You have me."

Her eyes were desperately searching his, hoping that he could see the honesty and the trust beneath.

It was at that moment that Bellamy took her slowly into his arms, burying his face in her neck, and choked out a sob. She reached up and gently grasped the hair at the back of his head, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Bellamy…" she murmured into his ear, her breath soft against his skin. One hand was running through her hair while the other down her back, at her waist, pulling her closer to him. They molded to one another perfectly. Clarke felt tears at the nape of her neck, but could not perceive a single sound. She continued to stroke the back of his head, winding his curly hair through her fingers.

When he finally pulled away and gazed down at her she noticed a tenderness in his eyes that she had never seen before. She had never seen him cry, personally she thought him incapable of any feeling at all. She carefully lifted her mouth to his and gently kissed him. She felt his hesitation in the way his shoulders stiffened. Then, slowly, he kissed her back. He was so tender and soft in the way that he kissed her, so unlike how he treated other girls, all fire and passion. He brought his calloused hand up and cupped the side of her face, deepening the kiss. Clarke teasingly bit his lower lip and in response Bellamy brought his mouth to her neck, kissing her softly.

"Bellamy…" she murmured against his cheek and slowly brought her hands under his shirt, feeling the iron-like muscle underneath. Bellamy was kissing her everywhere, her lips, her neck, her eyelids, all the while murmuring sweet nothings and holding her like she was the most precious thing on Earth. He brought his lips back to hers, hungrier this time. Clarke ran her hands down his arms, leaving light touches as she went. She felt Bellamy's barely controlled restraint in the way that he touched her. Clarke kneaded his shirt in her fist bringing him closer to her, she needed him closer.

Bellamy froze.

He broke away from her suddenly, his eyes wide with horror; then took on an accusatory gleam. He turned around, running his fingers through his hair, cursing and swearing.

"No Clarke, I won't have it…I can't, I can't let myself…" his voice trailed off.

"What's wrong Bellamy?" she asked, visibly hurt by his gesture. "I thought..."

"You thought what? That you were special? That you were different from any of the others?" he spat, his boyish façade was gone and replaced by a mask of stone. Clarke was hurt by his remark, but she would not allow tears to fall.

"Bell, this isn't you talking. This is your fear." she choked. Bellamy looked over in her direction, his eyes searing. He was balling his hands into fists, his jaw popping.

"You are nothing to me Clarke, and it has to stay that way." he growled. Clarke began to feel tears dampening her cheeks, despite her promise to herself, and for a fraction of a second she thought she saw Bellamy's own face contort into something that looked a lot like pain.

She must have imagined it.

"Oh really?" she snapped. "I meant nothing to you when you were sticking your tongue down my throat?" Bellamy looked as though he had been slapped.

"They're right about you Bellamy," she cursed. "You deserve the death sentence you receive."

"By then, Princess, I'll be long gone."