They're left alone for a few minutes, though Clarke knows there's probably a guard right outside the door. She can't take her eyes off Bellamy for a second, as if she's afraid that if she looks away he'll disappear again, like he's a mirage, or a figment of her imagination.
She wants to say something, or just put her arms around him, but she can't seem to move or speak. Bellamy seems equally as unsure.
"We thought you were dead," he says finally. Clarke nods, tears filling her eyes. "I'm glad you're not."
She laughs at that, a watery laugh. "Me too," she agrees. Words finally find her. "I knew there was a chance you were dead too. But I had hope."
Bellamy smiles, glancing down.
"This isn't exactly how I imagined it," Clarke half laughs, still teary. "Us meeting again."
"You thought about it?" He seems surprised.
"I had six years to think about it," Clarke points out. Bellamy hesitates.
"And how was it supposed to go?"
"It was meant to be a lot more joyful that this," Clarke says. "You guys would touch down in the middle of this field of flowers and then I'd be waiting for you. And we'd hug and—" she cuts herself off with a sob.
Bellamy moves then, and then his arms are around her, and she cries into his shoulder.
"I missed you so much," she whispers.
"I missed you too," he replies.