Fallen Angel [Bellamy Blake]

Chapter 8: Rescue Mission

Come together, right now, over me. -- The Beatles.

I WAS IN MY TENT PACKING ANYTHING I considered useful when suddenly the front flap opens. The last person I expect to see walks in.

Bellamy Blake stands at the opening of my tent, assessing me from head to toe. I shove the rest of my supplies into the makeshift pack Wells had made for me, not bothering to acknowledge his presence. Before I could get up, he was standing over me. From his angle, I was briefly reminded of the shirtless image I saw of him earlier. I shake that thought out of my head and glare at him instead. What I thought was concern briefly flickers across his face.

"What you did back there," he states, his voice held undertones of harshness, but it didn't sound genuine. "Was incredibly stupid."

I roll my eyes, leaning back. "Guess you must be rubbing off on me."

"What happened with Murphy— You getting hurt...I didn't want that to happen."

"You sure didn't stop it."

Bellamy looks down at his feet. His shoulders tense. "I need them to see me as a leader."

"Leaders aren't cowards."

Bellamy looks at my lips then. His hand reaches out to touch my face. I hold my breath unsure where he was going with that movement. Bellamy freezes. He lets his hand drop back to his side. He doesn't try to reach out again. He sighs and averts his eyes. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Thank you so much for your concern," I say sarcastically.

Outside my tent, Clarke calls my name. Bellamy's face is back to that stone cold facade he always puts up. The one that said he was the king of our camp. Seeing as though there was nothing left to talk about with Bellamy Blake on this matter or any, I stand up and push past him to walk outside.

Clarke was waiting off to one side with Finn. The rest of our self proclaimed search party had already gathered around her. Bellamy follows me out of my tent and I try to ignore everyone's curious glances. As if I would ever want to be doing anything private inside of a tent with Bellamy Blake.

"Are you ready?" Clarke asks everyone.

Finn looks at her like she lost her mind. "I'm not going anywhere, and neither should any of you. That spear has thrown with pinpoint accuracy from 300 feet."

"They have Jasper," I say, my voice laced with anger. At who, at what exactly, I'm not entirely sure.

Clarke clearly felt the same anger that I did. She takes a step toward Finn and gets right up to his face. "So what, we let Jasper die? That's not gonna happen. Spacewalker? What a joke. You think you're such an adventurer. You're really just a coward."

Finn shakes his head. "It's not an adventure, Clarke. It's a suicide mission."

Clarke huffs and storms away from him toward the woods without another word.