Fight For Love - A Bellamy Blake Imagine
Summary: Imagine Bellamy saving you from Mount Weather. Requested
You stood on the dropship ramp, anxiously panting as the loud pops of gunfire echoed in your ears. Bombs went off, blasting dirt and body parts into the air. Arrows flew, rapidly whizzing past your ears before meeting their fleshy targets with master precision. Those targets were your friends, the foot soldiers that fought valiantly to protect their newfound home but their efforts had fallen short.
Clarke had just called for the troops to fall back as the relentless grounder army advanced on camp, slashing their way through the delinquents and leaving a bloody trail of death in their wake. You had hesitantly followed her orders, retreating to the protective walls of the spaceship, but you couldn’t seem to remove yourself from the doorway. You refused the let the dropship doors close without Bellamy aboard.
Amidst the chaos, you saw him. He had just poked his greasy mop top out of one of the foxholes, gazing at the madness of camp with a rifle clutched firmly in his hands.
“Bellamy!” you called out, urging him to make his way to the dropship immediately.
Clarke was getting ready to shut the doors, prepared to roast the grounders alive with the dropship’s thrusters and Bellamy would join them if he didn’t make haste.
As Bellamy’s eyes locked with yours, you felt a subtle sense of relief. He was unharmed, he was alive, and if he floored it, he had just enough time to make it into the dropship and into your arms. That small glimmer of hope was quickly dashed by a tall and fearsome grounder stepping into Bellamy’s path.
You screamed as you watched the grounder viciously knock Bellamy to the ground. He scrambled backward in the dirt as the grounder held him at the mercy of his sword but before Bellamy could come face to face with the grim reaper, Finn dove into action to rescue his friend.
The two young men seemed to struggle against the prowess of the grounder. They wrestled back and forth in the dirt and just as soon as Finn had freed Bellamy from the jaws of death, it was now the spacewalker that was being choked within an inch of his life.
“Bellamy!” you shrieked again.
Bellamy looked at you and then at his dying friend. And you knew that he would never abandon a friend in need to solidify his own safety. He made brief eye contact with you, giving you a reassuring nod before tackling the grounder off of Finn.
“No!” you cried.
Miller and Clarke grabbed you, forcefully pulling you into the ship as you kicked and screamed in rebellion.
That was your last memory of Bellamy and it haunted you even now as you lingered in the shadow of your own demise.
You had spent the past three days captive in a steel cage inside of Mount Weather. The price you paid for freedom was pain in the form of a drill. They only released you from your cell to harvest your precious bone marrow. Your body was weak, your joints ached, and a sharp pain pervaded your chest with every drawn breath. You suffered so much from the torturous procedure that you nearly welcomed death.
It wasn’t the incessant buzzing of the drill or the burning agony that came with it that made you want to give up the ghost, but it was the thought of living in a world without your best friend that made you believe that surviving just wasn’t worth the fight anymore.
For all you knew, Bellamy hadn’t survived the fiery blast at the drop ship. It had been weeks since you’d felt his warm embrace or relished in his tender kiss and you were beginning to think that you would die without ever experiencing those earthly pleasures ever again. And a life void of Bellamy Blake didn’t seem like a life worth living.
It was your turn again. The lab assistants dragged your limp body from the cage and placed you on the operating table underneath the blinding, white light. You didn’t fight back as they strapped you down. You just closed your eyes, knowing this was it. With your weakening condition, it would only take one more bone marrow extraction for them to finish you off. Your only hope was that Bellamy might’ve been on the other side waiting to take your hand and welcome you into the afterlife.
Instead of hearing the high pitched screech of the drill, you heard two gunshots ring out into the room. You heard the weight of the two lab assistants hitting the concrete floor. And out of the blinding light of the lamp, the frame of a Mount Weather guard became clear.
His helmet-clad face was looking down at you as he removed the belted straps that held you in place. Once you were free, he removed his goggles and helmet to reveal messy dark hair and deep brown eyes.
“Bellamy…” you whispered.
He took your frail body into his arms and lifted you off of the table. He cradled you close to him, rocking you gently against his chest.
“Shhh…I’m here,” Bellamy whispered. He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You’re going to be okay…you’re going to be okay.”