A/N: Not sure what this is, to be perfectly honest. But my muse has been fluttering back and forth lately, making me start and stop about a dozen times. Now this idea came into my head, and before I knew it I had written it. Hope you like it.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The 100 or any of the characters; I also do not own any lyrics used

Fool

They may be right;
I may be foolish
But I will wait for you

The Cary Brothers, Take your Time

"Don't leave me."

The Princess issues out orders like the royalty she has earned (or rather, been born to) but this is different. She's not looking at him when she speaks, staring ahead into the dark woods, gun resting lightly on her lap.

He looks at her, takes in her pale skin and dark circles. No one looks their beauty-queen best down here, that's a given (his hair doesn't just have a life of its own but a name and address too) but this past year has taken its toll. She came back with no explanation about where she had been, but the scars and faded Grounder paint said it all. She came back and acted as if she had never been away.

(He thinks that's what infuriated him the most.)

Then there was an outbreak of flu that killed quickly and almost silently, like Death itself had walked through camp, claiming it's victims as lightly as one chooses their lunch. Clarke and her mother did their best of keep up with the number of patients. Truth is, he had been so busy watching Clarke that he didn't notice Abby. Kane found her collapsed in her tent one morning, when they thought they had got past the worst.

Lexa died next. It's not like Clarke saw a lot of her anymore, or that she claimed to even like her. But he knows the two of them had some sort of bond, some connection. He doesn't ask. Just like Clarke doesn't ask about Echo and the way she and Bellamy look at each other sometimes. They don't ask each other these things.

Her dad. Wells. Finn. Her mother. Lexa. She's lost so many people that she loved. It makes him cling to Octavia even more, you see – knowing how easy it is to lose people.

She doesn't ask again, but he can see her hands clenching on her lap.

They're not the same, him and Clarke. Ever since she left he'd been trying to bury the resentment at carrying it all on his own; and when she returned he had been unable to hide it. She never asked for his forgiveness either, never challenged him if she thought his words were a little too harsh, his looks a little too much like glares. They are like planets in the same gravitational loop: they orbit each other but they never touch. They avoid each other and if they ever had to spend time together – like now, for example – they rarely speak.

Now though he looks at her, hair dripping from the rain that's pelting down. His hand reaches across the space between them, no-man's land, until he clasps round hers. "Okay," he says.

She looks at him, and for the first time he sees a glimmer of a smile on her face; a glimmer of the girl she used to be. The one that would fight until the battle was won, the set of her mouth the new definition of "determined", the girl who would look at him and convey a whole world of words.

And he's gone (again).

"Okay," he repeats – til death do us part – and willingly enters into the servitude of Clarke Griffin.

(She has no right to ask but –

He is a fool.)

A/N: I know it's short, but I would love a review. Let me know what you think!

Hours to make. Seconds to comment.

PLEASE REVIEW!