#spaceclarke

They say history is written by the winners.

And it’s true, in a way.

Here is what they omit to add, here is how the saying doesn’t go: history is written by broken, sad people with shadows under their eyes and in their minds. History is built on the bones of the ones they lost, too young and too innocent to die for a war they never asked, a battle they never wanted. History is written from the ash of burned tree and houses, from the ink of tattoos on a man’s back, the tears running down a woman’s face.

History is written with the strength of Bellamy’s arms and the fire of Clarke’s gaze. It is written in the ‘I believe in you’ whispered before a battle, the ‘I just miss you’ branded with lips against skin. I miss you, the real you, with sun-kissed air and a soft jacket, with a band around your wrist. I miss you, the old you, with the cocky smirk and cocking hips, with the speeches that could (did) rise an army.

I miss us when we were young, and innocent, when our backs didn’t arch with the weight of a dead mountain and the kind of guilt nobody should ever feel.

Sometimes, when she closes her eyes, she can see Wells’ smile, Monroe’s air shining in the firelight, Monty and Jasper whispering secrets to each other, Miller scratching his head beneath his beanie. Sometimes, when she closes her eyes, she smells the barbecue by the dropship, feels the soft breeze on her neck, tastes her first sip of water. Sometimes, only sometimes, when the nightmares are weak and the night is kind, she allows herself to remember.

History is written by the winners, they say.

Clarke adjusts her duffel bag on her shoulder, looking at the airport around her. It feels weird, being the one to leave this time -- her last tour was when she was nineteen, straight out of the academy and scared shitless. The army paid for med school after that, though, and now she’s back at it again, ready to leave for nine months on a medical mission and not knowing what will happen then.

Bellamy pretends he’s cool about it, but there is tension to his shoulders that Clarke can’t ignore, clenching his jaw when he thinks she isn’t looking. He did three tours before they offered him a more permanent job, training the new recruits at home instead of leaving and coming back. 

Sometimes, Clarke wonders how their couple even survived this -- the long periods of time barely being able to speak for five minutes, and then having to learn to be together in the same place all over again. She likes to think it made them stronger, but mostly there were time when they refused to break up just out of sheer stubbornness.

“Bellamy, hey...” she says softly, when his nostrils start flailing angry.

His eyes are unreadable when he looks back at her, a pool of mystery turned red by the sunlight. He just stares at her for a couple more seconds, before he grabs her by the collar of her perfectly-pressed uniform and pulls her toward him. Clarke falls into his embrace, almost loosing her balance before she’s into his arm and against his chest, squeezing back with the same strength.

“Just come back alive, okay?” he whispers to her ear, the low rumble of his voice sending a shiver down her spine as tears gather at the corners of her eyes.

“I’ll do my best,” she replies with a forced smile. She can’t lie to him about that, can’t make false promises they both know she can’t keep. It’s never safe where they go, an accident waiting for them around every corner.

“Yeah, you do that.”

I would sell an ORGAN for this to be addressed again in the future. Clarke asking who Gina was, who she was to Bellamy. What she thinks about ALIE!Raven's implication that Bellamy is "more devoted" to her than he was to his gf. Will she circle back to the line about him taking orders, to reassure him that she doesn't think of him like that? And what the hell was going through Bell's head during that moment??? I NEED IT TO BE ADDRESSED!!!!!!

Cold showers are good when it's SUUUPER hot and difficult to sleep tho!

yes, THANK YOU! can i reblog this?

ty so much for this. it's fucking depressing enough as it is without people laughing at us.