You’re gonna have to pull the trigger, then
For @nataliecrown and @alienor-woods, those beautiful monsters. Post 410 spec.
A gunshot cracked near his ear and echoed in the small chamber. Bellamy stopped and saw the perfect round hole where it was buried in the thick cement wall, his brain not fully comprehending what he saw. He was still thinking about Octavia, left out in the black rain, a wave of fire bearing down on her. The present was oddly flat and meaningless compared to that;, unreal and distant.
“Bellamy, please,” Clarke begged.
Slowly, he dragged his eyes from the bullet hole to her face. Her eyes were dark, cold pits, fear and sadness etched into the creases in her forehead. “What are you doing?” he asked, his ears still ringing. His vision tunneled as he stared at the gun.
The gun in Clarke’s hand.
The gun pointed at him.
“What I have to. Like always,” she replied. The gun was trembling but her jaw was set. Determined.
Determined to shoot him.
“Octavia’s out there,” he pleaded. “She’s— she’s out there. You can’t expect me to—”
“– if you open that door, we die,” Clarke interrupted. “All of us. I can’t let that happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” she said, her voice breaking. Tears filled her eyes but didn’t fall. “After what I did— they’ll kill us for it. I have no choice. This is…this is who I need to be.”
The words landed like a body blow. He’d said that to her once in a vain attempt at comfort and hearing them now sent ice down his spine. But her hand was still shaking and a tear fell, so he took a step down and then another. “Then do it,” he said, thankful his voice was steady. His heart was cracking in two but he sounded sure; certain.
“Bellamy,” she whispered.
“You know I won’t leave her out there. So do it,” he urged. “This is who you need to be, right? If you believe that, then do it. Kill me.”
“Bellamy, please,” she repeated.
“You have no choice,” he spat. He reached the floor but she didn’t lower the gun, just swallowed hard. “And neither do I. That’s my sister out there. So if you’re going to shoot me, shoot me.”
He walked towards her and Clarke shook her head in despair. “Don’t do this, please. You know— you know I can’t. I need you.”
“Do you?” His mind was clearing now, disbelief giving way to anger. You need me? You left me. And now you might kill me.
“I do,” she said, and it sounded like a sob. He drew closer, the gun still between them. “You know I do. I— I made sure you were safe. I couldn’t do this without you.” She took a shuddering breath. “I love you,” she said, and it felt like a slap.
In another life those words might have brought him joy, but now they just pissed him off. “Then choose,” he growled, and stepped right up to her. The barrel of the gun pressed into his sternum; cold and hard and deadly. “Do it, or let me save my sister.”
Clarke met his gaze and he saw his death flicker there. He swallowed, not letting himself break, and wondered if she’d do it. A tear tracked down her cheek, then another and then another. And then the moment passed.
“They’ll kill us,” she protested, but Bellamy just wrapped his hand around hers and slowly tugged the gun away from his chest. It clattered to the floor and they collapsed into one another, Clarke’s face mashing against his shoulder and his arms coming up to hold her. The anger that had flared in his gut dimmed— not yet cold ash, but no longer threatening to consume him. Clarke sobbed and he felt his own tears start to fall fall. “I did what I had to,” she kept murmuring, and he smoothed her hair down and nodded.
Because this world wasn’t fair and never would be.