s1ater

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐠𝐨.

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Will Start Repubing Some Recs! It Rarely Happens Because I Am Very Picky When It Comes To The Fics I

will start repubing some recs! it rarely happens because I am very picky when it comes to the fics I read but tis the season to be in a very bellamy mood.

In the Mountains Shadow

summary: in which he comforts you.

tags: panic attacks. ptsd. hurt/comfort.

w/c: 1.1k.

a/n: no one will ever convince me that the 100 delinquents that were sent the earth, and the subsequent 48 of them that survived mount weather don't have serious ptsd. none of them are okay.

In the late afternoon hours, there was no peace to be found—not for her.

The feeling had come from nowhere, starting so small that she hadn't even noticed it before it crashed against the shore of her emotions, where it shattered into a thousand pieces, and infected her blood. If she could, she'd pull the blood from her veins to stop the feeling.

She was breathing in shallow gasps as she stared at that mountain of death—its shadow looming over her, blocking out the sun until she felt swallowed by darkness. She clutched the handle of the rover to ground herself; her fingers wound so tightly around it that they ached; and her legs wobbled and threatened to give out.

It was getting harder to breathe. It felt like someone had punched her in the chest, grabbed her heart, and squeezed the air from her lungs. Why had she agreed to come back? She never wanted to see this place again, not after...

She gasped loudly and suddenly.

The memories assaulted her all at once, without warning or mercy. The humming of the drill replayed in her ears, a haunting melody that accompanied her torment. Pain scored through her limbs, radiating from the scars on her thighs. Screams echoed around her—Raven's, Abby's, and her own. She could hear Marcus begging and pleading with Cage to stop, insisting that they would donate their bone marrow.

Her stomach twisted into knots, threatening to bring her breakfast up and dump it on the ground right there beside the rover. Waterfall tears fell from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks, leaving her vision blurred. Her body shuddered as a sob welled up in her chest.

"Bellamy..."

Her voice was impossibly soft, so full of fear as the memories of her time inside the mountain continued their relentless assault. She reached out blindly for him, needing something real and warm to hold onto—someone to ground her in the storm that was threatening to undo her. "I don't think I can do this."

She hated this place; no, that was too kind of a word. She loathed this place with every fibre of her being and with every beat of her broken heart.

The mountain was filled with so much needless death—not only the mountain men and grounders but their own as well. Another sob spewed from her trembling lips—the sound gut-wrenching, cutting the dark-haired man to the core—as she remembered being trapped on level five while guards took her friends one by one. They had fought. They had screamed. They had run. None of it mattered in the end.

She remembered Fox's face when they'd found her after everything had been said and done. The blank look in her eyes, the blood dripping from her mouth, the expression etched upon her features, forever frozen in time.

"Oh god."

And then he was there.

Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and dragged her into the shelter of his body, where she buried her face against his chest, hiding from the world just as she'd done when he found her wandering the halls of the mountain. He felt her ball his shirt in her trembling hands, the material being pulled taunt across his back as her tears soaked the front. Bellamy held her tightly as the tears shuddered through her body. He wanted to cry with her, to break down and be weak, but he couldn't.

They had all been broken by the mountain, left tired and scared, but he couldn't break down. He had to be strong when the delinquents couldn't be; he'd bear it so that they didn't have to.

PTSD ran wild through the survivors of the one hundred, all forty-eight of them, and no amount of talking or time would help. Sure, their wounds would heal and scar, but the psychological trauma—the torment—would remain with them every day until they died. None of them would be okay again.

"She doesn't have to go," Bellamy said, his voice gentle as he patted her head, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing gesture. She didn't have to do this, and he wouldn't make her; he wouldn't let anyone make her.

There was a very strong loyalty that Bellamy felt for the delinquents in particular. He had a great deal to make up for, and going into Mount Weather to save them barely covered it. He would go in again, alone; he could find the things that would make their lives on post-apocalyptic-and-current-apocalyptic earth more comfortable.

Her breath was wild and erratic, impossible to catch. Inside, her lungs were burning, desperate for air, as she sobbed and hyperventilated against his chest. She clung to him without shame, her arms wrapped around his torso. He was the only thing that kept her grounded when the trauma threatened to consume her. "I can't, Bell, I can't." She repeated the words, babbling mindlessly.

She remembered how peaceful the mountain had seemed and how utterly perfect it was—a paradise found in a world trying to destroy them. She had loved being inside Mount Weather. All the history at her fingertips, real food, a soft bed, and books!

There had been so many books.

It was home.

Until Clarke pointed out the flaws and inconsistencies, and then the bubble burst. The mountain men's secrecy had come to light, and the superficial charm of Cage Wallace had peeled away like a snake's skin. She remembered Clarke escaping and how hopeless she'd felt while still trapped inside. But most of all, she remembered the feeling of the cuffs around her wrists and ankles—how her skin had been rubbed raw, cut open, and her bones drilled into.

She had been left devastated. Even the whirring of a power tool at Camp Jaha would send her into a panic. There was no concern that she was appearing weak in front of Bellamy. There was only a fear that she might not escape the mountain alive this time.

Bellamy waved for the others to go on ahead, ignoring their concerned stares. When one of them took a tentative step forward, his arms tightened around her, iron bands of muscle pressing her into his body. Above her, he shook his head, silently telling them not to look or touch.

He knew her; he saw her.

And he knew that comfort from anyone else, especially one of the adults that had been responsible for sending one hundred children to earth, would only break the little resolve she was holding onto. So Bellamy held her as she cried; he let her bury her face against his chest and hide from the world. And when her legs gave out, he went to the ground with her, and he held her still.

"I promise you're not alone," he whispered, his lips pressed against the crown of her head, his own heart breaking. He pulled her closer, held her tighter. "You'll never be alone again."

Will Start Repubing Some Recs! It Rarely Happens Because I Am Very Picky When It Comes To The Fics I

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