A/N:I have been working on this for a while now and I think I need to get it out there. Otherwise I'm going to keep editing it to death. Non beta'd. I don't own anything.
Title from Gorecki by Lamb.
Warning: possible domestic abuse triggers. There is also mention of or allusion to unwanted pregnancy.
Can We Stay Right Here (Till The End Of Time)?
After their Plan A failed, Bellamy asked Octavia to come back with them, but she slayed him with her steely refrain.
"I won't be confined again," she stated, cold and plain.
"But you'll die out here," Bellamy replied, his eyes indomitable.
"I'm not afraid."
Even though he knew it wasn't true - that the words where just a way to hold it all at bay, he didn't call her out - he didn't push.
"Give her time," Clarke had said.
Well… time was not their friend.
But he kept trying.
He kept letting her know that he needed her to live.
Whenever she wasn't away on one of her coalition missions, and he happened to see her, he asked again.
And again and again, she defied him.
According to Raven's calculations, the rain was to be upon them in weeks.
They all stood in the hall and took in the report. Mingling afterwards, to try and boost morale.
Clarke stood silently beside Kane and Luna as they discussed the lineage of a particular word in Trigedasleng. Normally she would have participated politely, but her attention was drawn toward a corner of the room where Indra approached her mother with intense purpose.
It was not unusual for Indra to act with deliberation, but as Clarke watched, she spoke discreetly in Abby's ear, her shoulders and head hunched - guarded.
Something was wrong.
Upon hearing Indra's words, Abby's eyes enlarged and shot across the room. Clarke followed her mother's line of sight and inhaled sharply.
She was staring at Bellamy.
Thankfully, he was too busy swapping retorts with Raven and Roan to notice.
When Clarke looked back at her mother, their eyes locked briefly before Abby broke the connection by turning to Indra and giving her an almost invisible nod. They separated and Indra departed.
Clarke excused herself from the company she was keeping and casually strode over to stop her mother from leaving, seconds later.
She didn't waste time. Time was too precious.
"What's going on?" she quizzed Abby quietly.
"Nothing serious," Abby admitted almost too easily, knowing it was futile to deny the interaction Clarke had clearly seen. "You're welcome to join me if you like, but I thought you'd rather run the reactor diagnostics with Raven."
Clarke could tell from her cold, straight face that Abby wasn't telling her the whole truth.
She decided not to call her bluff.
Not yet anyway.
"Well, if you can handle it," she shrugged. "Just keep me posted."
"Of course," Abby smiled.
Once her mother was out in the corridor and around the corner, Clarke walked as calmly and inconspicuously as she could to where Bellamy stood, now crowded by the addition of Monty, Harper and Jasper to the fray.
Subtly, she curled her fingers around the inside of his wrist as Raven rambled on about reverse engineering.
Bellamy's eyes darted down to where Clarke's hand touched his skin and then tracked steadily up her arm to search her features.
"Follow me," she mouthed before releasing her grip and walking away from the group.
Behind her, Clarke heard Bellamy clear his throat and his footsteps fall in.
Their friends continued, but not without Roan throwing a smirk in their direction and Raven rolling her eyes.
Out in the hall, away from inquisition, Bellamy took a few quick strides to catch up to Clarke, clutching her elbow gently and pulling her aside.
"Hey," his eyes implored her as they huddled against the wall, "what's the rush?"
"We have to catch up to my Mum," she replied, eager for him to understand, despite not really knowing what was going on herself.
"Okay," he swallowed, and they snuck off.
Peering through the thick foliage that separated them from the makeshift coalition camp where Indra had brought Abby, Clarke became acutely aware of the proximity of Bellamy's warm body beside her. She could feel the heat emanating from his freckled cheeks as he squinted through the scope of his gun.
"Why'd you bring me here Clarke?" he asked, not taking his eyes away from the two women walking towards one of the tents.
Honestly, she'd queried herself on that same question the whole way there.
She'd had an inkling her mother's exchange with Indra was about Octavia, and in her immediate wisdom, decided that Bellamy deserved to know. However, she'd started to think that maybe she should have come alone first, found out what it was all about, and then reported back to him. Tensions between the siblings were tight and it wasn't that Clarke wanted to hide anything from Bellamy, not when they had just rebuilt their trust in each other, but she didn't want him getting hurt either.
Lately, whenever Octavia was involved, Bellamy always ended up worse off.
As she started to explain herself, Clarke felt Bellamy's body stiffen beside her. She looked back to the camp to find her suspicions somewhat confirmed.
Octavia and Nyko were heading for the same tent that Abby and Indra had just entered.
Clarke was too far away to tell for sure, but Octavia looked unsteady, shaken. She stumbled and Nyko supported her, before she shoved him off and tried to straighten up.
Bellamy hissed and dropped the gun from its perch on his shoulder as they disappeared into the tent, his eyes staring at the spot where his sister had last stood.
"Octavia's sick," he stated slowly, scrunching his brows as if to figure out how, even though they both knew. It was all around them now. "I have to see her," he slung the gun onto its strap and stood up, starting to push through the leaves of the trees.
"Wait!" Clarke cried, jagging his jacket in her grip. "Are you sure you want to do this to yourself?"
The last time Bellamy had seen his sister, some three weeks ago, he'd spent the next two days in a haze of self-hatred. It was selfish of her she knew, but Clarke couldn't bear to see him broken again. Besides, they needed him to be on his A-game. Time was running away.
As quickly as she questioned in her own head whether Octavia was worth it, Clarke knew what his response would be. Wasn't that why she'd brought him here after all? Apocalypse or not, Bellamy believed Octavia was his number one priority.
"She's my sister, Clarke," he croaked. "She might not need me… but… I need her," he looked away. "I need her to live."
Clarke knew what he meant, but she didn't know if she liked it.
She didn't like the fact that Bellamy thought all he was worth was his sister's life. She didn't like the fact that he tied his entire existence to Octavia, even at his own expense.
It was debilitating.
But every time Clarke opened her mouth to tell him how she felt - to tell him that he was so much more than his sister's keeper - she pictured him as a seven year old boy, swaying baby Octavia to sleep.
The image made her weep.
She wept for a boy who never had a choice - a boy who had turned his less than favourable plight, into something pure and true.
It would be easy to say she didn't like his dangerously devoted selflessness, but it would be a lie.
For it was one of the many things she loved about him.
"What the hell are they doing here?" Octavia grimaced with as much ferocity as she could muster, glaring at Bellamy and Clarke as they emerged through the flap in the tent. "I told you we couldn't trust her," she narrowed her glassy gaze at Abby.
"She didn't know. We followed them," Clarke said quickly, trying to keep her cool. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Bellamy by losing it at his sister, especially when she was sick.
"Well, you need to leave," Octavia tried to sit up from the bed Abby had led her to, but the movement made her worse and she suddenly lurched to her side and threw up.
Instinctively, Bellamy lunged for his sister, but Abby got there first, placing one hand on the small of Octavia's back, and using the other to hold her hair away from her face.
"Don't… touch… me…" Octavia groaned but she did little to fend Abby off.
"Octavia, please," Bellamy pleaded. "You need help."
"You have no idea what I need," Octavia's voice was weak but her words never wavered.
"Come on O, you're sick. Let us take you back with us."
As Bellamy and Octavia argued, Clarke felt her mother's glare and looked up to find her face, trying to make sense of the signals she was sending.
Abby was shaking her head and looking from her to Bellamy and back again.
She wanted Clarke to shut him up.
"Bellamy…" she tried to interrupt, more uncertain than ever of this entire situation.
But there was no stopping Bellamy once he'd started one of his persuasive speeches.
"Tell her Clarke! There's nothing they can do for her here. At least at Arkadia we have medicine, they can make her comfortable until…"
"I'm not coming back with you!" Octavia snapped, sitting herself up with Abby's support.
"The radiation will only get worse O..." Bellamy's voice trailed away and the tent went silent.
"It's not radiation," Octavia swore through her clenched her jaw.
"I think we should give them a minute," Abby answered, shuffling everybody but the two siblings out.
When they were a safe distance away from the tent, Abby explained without Clarke having to ask.
"Octavia has severe morning sickness," she said, with a duck of her head.
Clarke gaped and glanced back at the tent in disbelief.
"Why didn't you say something?" she rasped, dropping down beside her mother who sat on a stump by the fire.
Her mind struggled to sift the new information.
"I just found out," Abby huffed indignantly. "And besides," she sighed - resigned. "It wasn't for me to say."
Clarke closed her eyes in consideration.
Her mother was right.
"How far along is she?"
"Between four and five months, I think." Abby answered.
They looked at each other then, and wave after wave of thoughts and emotions flooded through Clarke's head.
Octavia was having a baby?
She couldn't comprehend.
There was nothing like the promise of new life to incite hope… right?
Then why did she feel like something had broken inside?
Clarke wanted to be happy for Octavia, she did.
But if the domes didn't work, none of them might come out of this alive, let alone an unborn child.
An onslaught of images from the deaths in Mt Weather overwhelmed her, and Clarke couldn't stop herself.
"What if I can't save them?" She cried, silent tears streaming from her eyes.
It was moments like these she felt the world on her shoulders and she was ever so grateful for her mother by her side.
"We will, all of us, together."
As Abby wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her tight while she sobbed into the night, it dawned on Clarke that Octavia's mother was dead.
All she had left was her brother.
A brother whose love she had abused - a brother whom she had continually refused, every time he'd begged her to come back with them.
Clarke wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Even if they never got to see its face, feel its velvety-soft skin or hear its heart-felt cry - even if they were all to die, she had to believe in this baby.
If nothing else, she had to believe it would bring Bellamy and Octavia together again.
Once Abby had finished examining Octavia as best she could and arranged a non-negotiable appointment at Arkadia in two days' time, the three of them headed back to camp.
Bellamy hadn't spoken since he exited the tent and stormed off into the bracken, waiting there for them to find him.
It wasn't until they stopped for a brief break before crossing a creek that he finally broke his silence.
"Thank-you," he said under his breath to Abby, passing her a flask of water.
She nodded her acknowledgement.
"We'll make sure to secure her a spot when we start the census," Abby stated steadfastly, trying to assure him.
"Technically, we need to save her two spots," Clarke said, flashing him something of a smile.
He didn't return the sentiment.
He wasn't even sure what a smile was anymore.
"Don't bother," Bellamy looked down to the ground, restlessly kicking the dirt, before shoving off again, on their return. "She's not coming," he muttered over his shoulder.
"What?" Clarke caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm, gently squeezing his bicep as she searched his eyes for answers. "What do you mean she's not coming?"
He couldn't look at her right now, or take pleasure in her touch - it was all too much.
"I'm saying…" he shrugged her arm away, "nothing's changed. Octavia's made her choice."
"Now you're going to accept that?" Clarke cried, incredulous. "After all the effort you spent trying to convince her otherwise?"
She huffed in horror at his indifferent expression.
"Bellamy! You know this isn't right. If she stays outside, her and her baby will die."
He closed his eyes, unable to bear her questioning stare.
"Maybe… but I don't get to decide."
He'd tried, but he'd finally lost the will to fight Octavia on this. For months she'd brushed him off and he'd backed away, hoping for the day he'd wear her down.
When she told him that she was pregnant, he thought maybe she'd change her mind.
He was wrong.
"I can still get you a place inside the dome," he mentioned in the tent, trying to stay level-headed. "But you have to come back with us now."
"Are you even listening to me?" Octavia whined.
He knew she was afraid of being locked in again, restrained in the limited space of the arch, but she had to push past that demon.
"It's not just about you anymore, O. It's about the life you're carrying." He didn't want to say the words, he'd known how heavy they felt since he was seven years old, but she had a responsibility beyond herself now.
"Even if I do go to the dome, there's no guarantee that any of us will survive," she'd sniped.
"You're right." He swallowed, licking his lips. "But I have to believe in something better. Like Mum did. She had to make the same choice, O, knowing either way, that her and her baby might not make it. She risked everything for hope - for you."
"I don't want to make that choice." Octavia glared at him. "I'm not my mother."
"I know, O… I know." He scrubbed a hand over his forehead, frustrated that he wasn't getting through to her. "But if you stay outside, you will die!" He leant his hands on the bed, hunched over close to her and softly said, "You think Lincoln would want that for his child?"
In hindsight he should have expected her reaction, but the slap still stung the thin skin of his cheek and his heart contorted every time she resorted to force to get her feelings across.
Was it him that had taught her that?
He'd wanted so much more for her.
And now, look where they were.
Like a twist of fate in one of the tragic tales their mother used to read to them, he felt as though all of the pain of life on the Ark, and the grimness of what they'd done on the ground, had been for nothing.
They were back where they started – facing the same foe and suffering through the same struggles as their predecessors.
It seemed that he and his sister were also stuck in some sick cycle.
"I wish you'd never taken me to that dance," Octavia's eyes filled with tears as she hissed her words at him. "We would have died on the Ark like everybody else and I would never have met Lincoln."
"Stop it, Octavia!" He was tired - tired of trying to live her life as well as his, tired of fighting her all the time. "You don't mean that."
"I would never have lost him," she sobbed.
"He's not lost, O." Bellamy struggled to find a way to say the words that would help her see. "Don't you get it? Your baby… your baby is Lincoln's legacy."
She'd screamed at him then and he'd left.
He'd left because he was a mess, and he couldn't take any more hurt from her.
Not now.
Not with such little time remaining.
If something as beautiful and pure as the promise of new life couldn't break the barriers between them - stop the vicious circle that kept spiralling out of control, then there was no way he could.
He had to let Octavia go.
There was a dome to be completed and people who needed him.
His heart and his hope may have been beaten, but at least his brain and body could be useful.
Back at Arkadia, Clarke accosted him once Abby had excused herself and headed to the clinic.
He had been expecting her to attack him on the walk back, but instead she bit her lip and barged through the bush, her bewildered expression gradually morphing into intense contemplation as they continued their journey home.
She'd probably spent the entire trip trying to think of a plan, or something.
"Bellamy," she cornered him near the entrance to The Ark, stepping up into his space and pressing a finger to his chest.
Just like the "good" old dropship days.
"You can't just give up on Octavia like that! I know you, and that's… not possible."
Her eyes were earnest now, yearning for him to tell her what she needed to hear.
But he had no answers.
"What do you want me to do Clarke?"
"You could make her join us," she said without hesitation.
Bellamy sighed and looked up to the sky. He didn't realise how strongly Clarke felt about Octavia and her baby until then.
"Like you tried to make Luna take the chip?" He called her on it, gently, because that's what they did for each other. If the tables were turned he'd want to be reminded of his mistakes, before he made them again.
But Clarke's mouth dropped and she furrowed her brow - she hadn't anticipated his actions.
Perhaps because they were still tentatively rebuilding what they had lost, after she'd left. He cursed himself for forgetting that things were different between them now.
His held his breath as Clarke closed her lids briefly before looking back up at him, her eyes awash with regretful agreement.
"You're right," she said quietly and Bellamy breathed - relieved. "I was wrong to try and take away Luna's freedom of choice. We can't force Octavia to do anything against her will. I just… I don't understand. It seems simple to me. Stay and die, or go and live a life with her and Lincoln's child. A life she may never have even had the opportunity to live on The Ark, a life that so many others would kill for."
Bellamy felt the same; he did; only Clarke was forgetting one vital part.
"She thinks being restricted to the dome is the same as cursing her kid to the upbringing she had," he said.
"Was it really so bad?" Clarke asked.
"Come on, Clarke," he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsettled recalling that small but seminal part of his story. "You know the answer to that."
"It's just…" Clarke's eyes softened, "she had you."
Bellamy tucked his arms across his chest, and looked to the side, trying to hide his watering eyes.
"I guess that wasn't enough," he sniffed.
"No… Bellamy, don't say that," Clarke stepped in close and smoothed her palm up his arm, taking it away again when he glanced sideways at her.
"It's true," he said taking a deep breath and lifting his head. He needed her to understand why he'd let Octavia go. "I was a fool to think I could ever convince her. She's had so little control over her life and the way things went, it just made sense to let her own this - even though it hurts like hell."
Clarke sighed, resigned. Her shoulders dropped and her face looked exactly as his felt.
"It just doesn't feel right," she admitted.
Bellamy nodded.
"I was determined that Octavia's baby would provide a second chance for you and her - for Lincoln - for all of us. I never expected to see the start of a new generation," she said sorrowfully. "Hopefully, they don't stuff up the same as we did."
He snorted.
"You can't protect everyone from everything Clarke," he placed his hands on his hips. "But you can teach them to be strong, resilient. Teach them that no matter what they face, as long as they face it together, they will overcome it."
For a second she stood stunned, blankly staring at him like she was somewhere else. Then her eyes lit up like he hadn't seen in a long time.
A soft smile curved up the corner of her lips and she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes good-naturedly.
"What happened to - whatever the hell we want?" She teased.
He shrugged and smirked. Apparently he wasn't the only one who remembered stuff they said and did way back when. "I guess a learnt a thing or two."
They locked eyes then, looking at each other like they were reflecting on old photographs that represented their short but extraordinary shared history.
After a minute, Bellamy broke out of the gaze awkwardly and they both turned in sync toward the Ark. Their shoulders and arms brushed lightly against each other as they entered.
"You did well with Octavia," Clarke added as an afterthought, as they walked.
"Yeah," he griped "and look at what I got for it."
Before he knew what was happening, Clarke came to an abrupt stop, quickly slipped her fingers into his palm, tugged down on his hand so that he halted beside her, and stretched on her tiptoes to press her lips into the soft spot of his cheek.
Perhaps his heart was not so beaten.
It certainly picked up the pace when she drew away from him and they stood only gasps apart, studying each other's expressions with a new found fervour.
"What was that for?" he asked unassumingly, trying not to think of the last time she'd kissed his cheek.
"You did well Bellamy," Clarke said with certainty.
His muscles seemed to remember how to smile then, and he ducked his head. His lowered eyes found their fingers still entwined. Impulsively, as if it were the most natural thing he knew, he circled her knuckles with his thumb.
"Maybe we should keep Octavia a spot… just in case," he murmured meekly, taking the time to cherish the sensation of her skin.
"Two spots," she corrected him with a grin, slowly stepping away from him, her arm stretched outlandishly so as to delay the separation of their fingers for as long as possible.
"Two spots," he chuckled, and the sound was so foreign to them both, that they raised their eyebrows at each other in awe, before chuckling a little more.
A/N: Apparently I'm obsessed with pregnant Octavia because I keep writing her. I hope the reactions to her pregnancy are realistic and not offensive to anybody. This was really hard to write, in some respects.
I would love to hear what you liked/didn't like.
Thank-you for reading.