A/N: Warning: This is anti-L/anti-CL, so if that's not your thing, please don't read it.

This started out as Bellamy calling Clarke out for some things and showing her some parallels...and then Jealous!Clarke got added...and then it got a little angsty...and then it turned into some kind of in-depth character/relationship study, but I kind of love it?

As my beta said..."You went ALL THE WAY THERE, JC!" (P.S., thanks, Heather)

Clarke walked through the camp, looking for Bellamy. She and Roan had just gotten back from Becca's island a few minutes ago, both deciding that there was little more they could do after delivering the hydrazine and checking on the status of things. Clarke had spent some time with her mom and gotten a tiny bit of reassurance that she was okay, at least for the time being. The scientists of the group needed quiet to focus more than they needed Clarke and Roan hovering, so they'd helped push them out the door.

Roan had immediately left to check on his warriors, and Clarke had spent a few minutes talking to Kane, who'd met her just inside the gate.

He wanted an in-person status update on the nightblood production, as well as Abby's condition, and Clarke had done her best to reassure him with the limited information she had on both topics.

But now, she felt a desperate need to find Bellamy, as she often did after being separated from him for any length of time.

This time, it was really only a day and a half, but everything seemed more immediate, now that they could count the days they had left on their fingers.

She trudged through the muck of the main road, coming to a section of bustling activity in the back corner of camp. She'd learned, from her brief chat with Kane, that this section of the Ark was being gutted, while the walls and roof were being reinforced. The idea was to use it as a massive shelter for the next bout of acid rain.

By removing some of the interior walls and furniture, they could fit even more people inside, which is why Ice Nation was helping with the repairs. They were sticking to a variation of Clarke and Roan's agreement to share the Ark. Everyone knew it was only a temporary solution, but it was something worthwhile they could channel their energy into, so quite a few Arkadia inhabitants had joined forces with a few Ice Nation warriors, and they were busy trying to make an acid-proof shelter before the next bout of rain hit.

According to Kane, Bellamy had taken charge of the project, which is why it was Clarke's first stop after arriving back at camp.

She walked around massive warriors hammering sheet metal, a few Arkadians welding, and various people from both groups carrying supplies back and forth to the section of the Ark that was being worked on.

It wasn't until she stepped inside the construction zone that she finally spotted Bellamy, who was standing near one of the walls, holding one end of a large steel beam over his head while someone from Engineering stood on a ladder and welded the top of the beam to the existing skeletal structure of the Ark, apparently reinforcing it, either to make up for any damage done by the explosion or to bear the weight of the extra metal they were placing on the outside…or both.

It was stifling hot in the metal box, the sun beating down on the outside made 100 times worse by the multiple torches currently welding inside, and most of the men that weren't welding had stripped down to beaters or discarded their shirts altogether.

Bellamy was currently shirtless and practically dripping with sweat, his arms shaking slightly as he used all his strength to keep the beam in place, and Clarke tried not to look at his arms, which were always impressive but never more so than right now. But then she looked away from his arms…only to land on his chest, which was pretty much equally distracting.

Yeah, she was screwed.

Clarke's heart lightened a little, as it always did when he was back in her sight, and she started toward him, only to stop short when Echo, who'd just carried in a pile of rebar, set down her load and then made her way over to Bellamy.

There was too much noise for Clarke to hear what was being said, but after a moment, Echo bent down, picking up the shirt that Bellamy had apparently discarded on the floor, and gently wiped his forehead with it.

Bellamy blinked rapidly, clearly glad to have the sweat out of his eyes, and nodded his thanks.

Echo said something back, then trailed her fingers cautiously over his left side, where an angry red cut was visible.

The doctor in Clarke ran a critical eye over it, noticing that it wasn't bleeding anymore, so it would probably only need to be cleaned and bandaged, but the rest of her, the human part, cringed to see him hurt in any way, even a minor one.

She started toward him, determined to take care of the cut herself.

Bellamy shook his head, flinching a little at Echo's touch on the sore skin, but he gave her a tight smile.

Clarke finally got within hearing distance, just as Echo finished her sentence with "…a strong warrior like you," and ran her hand from his side to his stomach, resting her fingers against his abs as she looked up at him, mouth parted slightly.

Clarke was pretty sure her eyebrows were almost even with her hairline by the time she made her way up to them. Clearly, she wasn't the only female affected by the sight of a half-naked Bellamy that was proving his muscles weren't just for show, but…this was Bellamy…and that was Echo.

"Clarke!" Bellamy exclaimed, face relaxing into something that looked a lot like joy when he finally saw her. "I didn't know if you'd…be back."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, 'I wanted to see you,' but she quelled it, instead saying, "There was nothing else Roan and I could do anyway. I think he's looking for you, by the way," she finished, looking at the girl still standing with her hand unashamedly against Bellamy.

Echo nodded, then gave Bellamy what was probably supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a snarl, before she took her leave, going to report to her king.

Clarke wasn't sure what this was, boiling low in her stomach, making her breath shallow, making her ears feel warm…but she didn't like it. "Can I talk to you?" she asked him.

"Uh…yeah. Hang on."

He called for one of the Ice Nation warriors, asking him to take his place.

They did a bit of a tricky hand-off of the heavy beam, then Bellamy leaned down, swiping up the shirt Echo had tossed back on the floor after using it on him.

He nodded toward the hallway, which still led to private sleeping quarters and didn't seem to be overrun by workers.

She followed him, turning down a couple hallways until they got to an empty alcove.

"Is everything okay? The nightblood tests? Your mom, is she…" he started, shaking out his shirt and starting to stick his arms in the sleeves.

"She's fine, for now anyway. And the nightblood is still…the nightblood. They're working on it," Clarke replied, placing her hand on his arm to stop him. "Leave it off."

He looked at her oddly, an eyebrow raised.

She put her hands on his sides, careful not to touch the cut as she turned him toward her. "How did you get this?" she asked, leaning down a little to get a closer look as she probed the swelling gently with her fingers.

"It's…uh…" he cleared his throat a little nervously. "Someone dropped a piece of rebar off a ladder and I was underneath, hoisting a beam up. Scraped my side on the way down. It's not a big deal."

She nodded, touching it one last time to make sure it didn't feel too hot. "It doesn't need stitches, but make sure you keep it clean so it doesn't get infected. Oh, and you'll need a tetanus shot."

He snorted. "Does it even matter, at this point?"

She stood up, squaring her shoulders as she fairly glared at him. "Yes," she responded adamantly.

He studied her for a minute, nodding before he pulled his shirt on over his head. "What's wrong, Clarke? You've only been here for five minutes. I can't have pissed you off yet," he teased, a bit of a smile coming to his face.

Clarke shook her head automatically, always quick to say everything was fine, even when it wasn't. But this was Bellamy…and she didn't usually have to pretend with him.

She flashed back…to Echo grinning ferally up at him…Echo making no bones about admiring his physique…Echo checking his wound.

That was her job, dammit.

The checking of his wounds, of course. Not the rest of it.

She then flashed back to Bellamy during their first few days on Earth…when he'd been more interested in screwing everything that walked than anything else. Maybe this wasn't odd behavior for him.

But this was Echo: someone who'd done horrible things to all of them…but especially to Bellamy. But Bellamy had just smiled down at her, accepting her touch and her flirting as if it were normal…maybe even encouraging it.

Did he not remember? Did he not care?!

"How can you…" Clarke gestured a little wildly with her hands.

Bellamy tilted his head in confusion. "How can I…what?"

"Listen, I know you used to fuck everything in a proverbial skirt, but I thought even you had some standards."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, exasperated.

"You can't tell me you're thinking about…" she trailed off, unable to even voice the thought. "Or…have you already?" she asked, looking even more horrified.

Bellamy just stared at her dumbfoundedly.

"She betrayed you, Bellamy, even after you risked everything to help her! She lied to you and got our people…got Gina…killed. She tried to kill Octavia, for heaven's sake! She goes around slitting people's throats if they so much as look at her the wrong way! You can't seriously be thinking about…about…"

Bellamy just continued to stare at her, his face growing more and more disbelieving until it finally turned to anger.

"You're unbelievable," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Why?!" she practically shouted. "Because I don't want to see you get hurt?"

He was looking at her with barely concealed anger. "Betrayal, getting our people killed, lying, trying to kill O, slitting people's throats like she's swatting flies…that's your checklist for true love, not mine, Princess," he practically spat.

Oh.

Oh.

Clarke's jaw dropped, her brain not quite comprehending what he'd thrown at her.

She worked triple time, trying to process.

She'd always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that her relationship with Lexa hadn't been healthy in a lot of ways, but she'd been so lost…felt so guilty…and Lexa had seemed like someone who could help her learn how to handle making the decisions she'd had to make. She'd put on blinders for most of her time in Polis, refusing to let the past in…refusing to let her own people in…because she didn't want to deal with any of it.

She'd never heard the list of transgressions spelled out for her quite like that though. It was…a lot.

Bellamy had stood there, breathing heavily…angrily…for a few beats, but he abruptly turned, starting to walk away from her.

"Bellamy!" she called after him, not even sure what she was going to say if he stopped.

He did, hands on his hips as he tilted his head up toward the ceiling, maybe trying to cool his temper…maybe asking for divine intervention…maybe both.

He turned back around, took one look at the tumult on her face, and the anger seemed to leave him almost as abruptly as it had come, replaced by a little bit of guilt. "Clarke, I…" he reached a hand out, as if he was going to touch her, but then dropped it back by his side. "I didn't mean to…" he sighed. "I know you…had feelings for her. I shouldn't have said that."

With a little nod, he started to leave again.

Clarke's brain was still trying to process and her emotions were all over the place: loss, anger, realization, denial…they were all battling for top spot, but anger seemed to be winning at the moment, because he hadn't really said he wasn't going to go there with Echo. Clarke didn't know why, but she couldn't let him walk away without knowing that he wasn't going to do it.

"So, what? You're just going to fuck her? As long as it's just sex and not feelings, it's okay?" she asked angrily.

Bellamy paused again, his anger seeming to return in a heartbeat. "Maybe she'll wake up tomorrow with a conscience and be instantly redeemed. Falling in love with her would be okay then, right?"

Clarke was practically fuming, mostly because she couldn't refute the things he was saying and it pissed her off. "You can't."

He cocked his head. "I can't what?"

"Fuck her, fall in love with her…any of it!"

"Why not?"

Clarke bit down on the inside of her lower lip…hard. "You just…can't!"

"Why not?"

It seemed like an important question…maybe the most important question he'd ever asked her, and they stood there, staring at each other while he waited for her to answer.

After a few moments, when she still hadn't responded, he let out a sigh…one that simultaneously sounded a little angry and a little disappointed…and turned on his heel, walking away from her…again.

She watched him go, her mind trying to process as quickly as it could. She thought about the girls he used to sleep with, sometimes two at a time, and how he'd abruptly stopped. She thought about Gina, who she hadn't had to see him with…she'd only heard about their relationship after the fact. She thought about Echo, wiping his brow and checking his wound…and all she could come up with on such short notice was…

"You're…mine."

She'd said it so quietly, it was a wonder he'd heard it at all, since he'd almost turned the corner at the end of the hall.

But apparently he had, because he froze in his tracks, turning around slowly, his face wary. "What did you say?"

She had a moment of hesitation, because this wasn't how this was supposed to go, but she knew he'd heard her the first time anyway. "You're mine," she repeated, louder this time, and with more certainty.

Because he was. She couldn't pinpoint when it had happened exactly…but sometime between when they'd sat against a tree together, beaten and bloody after saving each other's lives and offering each other a kind of comfort most people couldn't even begin to understand and when she'd run into his arms when he returned to Camp Jaha after she'd thought he was dead…he'd become her person.

He was the one she wanted to hold her when she was broken…he was the one she trusted above everyone else…he was the one she wanted to protect, with every fiber of her being…he was the one she worried about the most.

And, on those rare, rare occasions where she had a moment to breathe…when she allowed herself a tiny thought of what the future might hold, were it to ever be a possibility…he was the one in it with her.

Even if she was in a pseudo-relationship with someone else…even if she'd been sleeping with someone else…those relationships had always felt very immediate…very temporary…almost like a solution to a problem. With Finn…with Lexa…with Niylah…even if she'd developed feelings for them…it had almost felt like an unintended byproduct of having met a need: to feel less alone…to feel less guilty…to feel more in control.

Bellamy was…different. He was a permanent fixture in her life. He was what she was working toward.

It wasn't something she acknowledged often, even to herself, because dreaming about the future seemed a little foolish when the present held so much turmoil and so many problems to solve.

Bellamy was the person she couldn't imagine doing this without…she wasn't sure if she wanted to do this, if he wasn't the one there, waiting for her at the finish line.

She hadn't had to see him with someone else since he'd claimed this inevitable place in her life, and the thought that maybe he wasn't actually hers…it shook the foundation of who she'd become.

Bellamy was staring down at the floor, his eyes closed, his jaw clenched, and his fingers sliding against each other by his sides like he had some sort of restless energy he didn't know what to do with.

"You are un-fucking-believable, Princess," he said, looking at the floor.

Clarke stood completely still, not sure where this was going to go next and a little terrified of it all.

As if he couldn't handle it anymore…as if he needed to do something with all that energy coursing through him…he stalked over to her, and Clarke had the simultaneously terrifying and thrilling thought that he was going to kiss her…but he didn't.

Instead, he stopped just a few inches from her, his face none-too-happy as he stared down at her.

"Of course I'm yours. I've been yours since we were still at that damn dropship. And everybody in this goddamn camp knows it, Clarke! Hell, every Grounder within a 100-mile radius probably knows it! The great Wanheda: the mysterious girl who fell from the sky and changed the world…and the loyal soldier who stays by her side…who'd do anything to protect her…who gladly puts his life on the line for her because he can't imagine a world that doesn't have her in it. Everyone knows I'm yours, Clarke…but I was beginning to wonder if you did…or if you cared."

He paused, scrubbing a hand over his face before he continued, and Clarke just watched him, taking it all in with a kind of incredulity she didn't think she'd ever felt before.

"I watched you with Finn…I watched you abandon your people…abandon me for…" he stopped, sighing as he dropped it. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. The point is…do you think I liked seeing that? Do you think I'm okay with seeing Niylah come out of your room in the morning? Cause let me tell you, Princess. I'm fucking not. But I can't control you…and I don't want to. If this is what you want…if these other people are what you think you need…then go for it. Maybe now isn't our time, and I can handle that…hell, I've been handling that. I'm still going to be yours whether you do anything about it or not. If you come to me…I want it to be because you can't imagine not being with me."

Clarke was watching him like she'd never watched him before, her heart in her throat, because whether he'd realized it or not, she was pretty sure there'd been an 'I love you' in that little monologue of his, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him right now.

His anger ratcheted up a notch, his words coming with a fierceness she hadn't heard from him in a long time…and certainly not directed at her.

"But let's get one thing straight, Princess. I let you dictate almost every other part of my life…but you don't get to pick who I fuck or don't fuck." He bent down slightly, his lips only a few inches from hers as he stared at her in a way that was so raw, so possessive, she felt it to her toes. "Not until you can admit that you're mine, too."

His eyes searched hers for a long moment before he moved away from her, turning on his heel to walk back down the hallway he'd started down what seemed like half a dozen times in the past ten minutes.

This time, he paused right before he turned the corner, glancing back at her. "For the record, I wouldn't touch Echo with a ten-foot pole. But she's Roan's second in command and I'm kind of fond of my head remaining attached to my neck," he said dryly, disappearing from her line of sight.

Clarke stood there another moment, still dumbfounded by everything that had transpired and how many damn emotions she was feeling at the moment.

His last sentence kept replaying in her head.

'Until you can admit that you're mine, too.'

'Until you can admit that you're mine, too.'

She'd never really realized how selfish she often was when it came to him. He was right…he bent over backwards to protect her, to comfort her, to save her even when she didn't really deserve it.

And how had she repaid him? By parading a group of significant others and fuck buddies past him while she still continued to get 95% of the companionship and partnership and…love…she needed from him.

She'd been so self-centered…it had never even occurred to her that he didn't know that she was his…and that she had been for a long time.

Suddenly, it seemed imperative that she tell him.

She hurried down the hall after him, making her way into the makeshift shelter, where everyone was still working. Glancing around, she noticed many of the same faces from before…but no Bellamy.

Deciding the only place he could have gone was outside, Clarke started to head for the doors just as a loud boom sounded overhead and people outside started screaming and rushing inside, coats, tarps, anything they could grab held over their heads as the sky opened and acid rain pelted down.

Clarke hopped to the side, flattening against the wall to let everyone in past her. She kept checking for Bellamy, but didn't see him among the mob.

Once everyone was in, she carefully made her way to the door, peeking out to see if she could find him…to see if he was safe.

And there he was, on the other side of the road, sitting in the driver's seat of the Rover, which had probably been the closest safe place to wherever he'd stomped off to when he'd left her.

His eyes met hers across the muddy expanse, and they shared a look that was off-the-charts in intensity, even for them.

Clarke heard a guard's radio go off somewhere behind her.

It was Kane. "Bellamy, is that you in the Rover?"

Clarke saw him pick the radio up off the dash. "Yeah. What's wrong?" came his response.

"A couple of the guys went to the Dropship, trying to see if they could salvage anything for the Ark. They should be okay as long as they got inside, but if they were already on their way back…" his voice trailed off, and everyone was quiet, knowing what had happened to the last people that hadn't been protected during an acid rain shower. "Their radios aren't working in the storm. Can you go check on them?"

"On my way," Bellamy replied.

He sat the radio down, starting the Rover but not putting it in Drive yet…instead keeping his gaze on Clarke.

Just then, Monty tapped her shoulder. "Clarke, I think Michael sprained his ankle when we were running in here. Can you come look at it?"

Clarke nodded, her gaze still on Bellamy.

They stayed there for what was probably the space of one heartbeat longer, and then he moved the Rover at the same time she turned around, heading further inside to play medic.

And maybe that's what they had to be for right now, Clarke mused as she gently prodded at the child's ankle, trying to make sure it was just a sprain and not something more serious.

She was so often pulled in one direction and he another, both on separate quests to save as many of their people as possible.

Sometimes those quests overlapped, and those were, by far, the best, but she knew that couldn't happen every time.

Maybe he was right…maybe now wasn't their time.

But as soon as he got back…as soon as they had a second of even semi-privacy…she needed to let him know…

Whatever finish line they'd drawn for themselves…whatever world they were trying to create where it was okay to think about the future, where it was okay to imagine being happy…

She'd be waiting there for him.

She always had been.