A/N: My take on a reunion fic, because I couldn't get it out of my head.
FYI: Warning: I feel like I need to put this at the beginning of all my fics lmao, but this is anti-L/anti-CL, so if that's not your thing, please don't read it. Seriously, don't leave me angry comments.
Also, apparently I can't write canon-verse fics without them becoming something of a character study, but I kinda like where this one went. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Clarke watched the rocket fall to the ground, landing what looked to be a few miles from her home.
Well, it wasn't really 'home,' but that was a train of thought for another time.
It was where she'd lived for the last few years…ever since the death wave had receded and she and Madi had made the decision to leave Becca's lab, knowing that they needed the food and water this little Garden of Eden could provide.
Eden.
That was what they'd named it.
It seemed like the only green spot left on Earth, and she and Madi seemed like the only people, so really, how could she not start getting biblical about it all?
She'd been calling the Ark…calling him…every day for years, but all to no avail.
Six years of no outside contact…and then, within the space of a week, she'd seen two different ships fall from the sky.
The first one had taken her completely by surprise. She'd been sitting there, radio in hand, doing her daily call to Bellamy, when she'd seen something speed toward Earth.
Of course she'd assumed it was the rocket containing her friends.
She'd been waiting for it for so long.
Three hundred and seventy-two days.
…more, if she's being honest.
The joy that had thrummed through her veins had been unlike anything she'd ever felt before; knowing that she was just minutes away from seeing Raven and Monty and Harper…hell, she was even looking forward to seeing Murphy.
And then, of course, there was Bellamy.
The man that had consumed so much of her mind, so many of her thoughts, especially that first year…the year she'd spent completely alone, before she'd found Madi.
It wouldn't be melodramatic to say that he'd been what got her through that year.
That horrible year of illness and solitude…when she'd been so sick and so tired and so alone, she'd wondered if it was worth it.
She'd thought of others too, of course. And after the loneliness, the quiet, got to be too much…she'd started having conversations with them. Her mother, Raven, Octavia…hell, she even talked to those who'd died long ago, because really, what did it matter if no one was answering her anyway?
Often, she felt like the sound of her own voice was the only thing that kept her from going insane.
Her dad, Wells…even Finn. They were all memories she could bring out when she needed to feel a little melancholy but also remember the good times. They were her connection to her innocence.
She talked to them about her childhood…her time on the Ark…the first few days on Earth when everything was so green and fresh and exciting.
When she needed to be a little angrier…when she needed to remind herself that she had spirit, and she could do this, dammit, that's when she thought of other people, namely Jasper and Lexa.
And really, those two people were so entwined in her mind now, she couldn't untangle them.
Being in the moment, feeling so much guilt, she couldn't see it at the time…but what was that saying?
Hindsight is 20/20?
Well, hindsight was even sharper than 20/20 when you had nothing but time on your hands.
She thought about how Jasper had taken his own life, and she vacillated between different emotions on it. Sometimes, there was anger; anger that he hadn't fought harder. Sometimes, there was guilt; guilt that she'd played a giant role in his depression. But no matter how she felt on that particular day, there was always a sadness when she thought about him; a sadness that she'd never see him again.
And then…there was Lexa.
She had conversations with Lexa on some of her darkest days. Those days when the guilt was eating her alive inside…those days when she thought about the person she'd been forced to become…the person that had made the decisions that had led them all here…those days, she thought about Lexa.
Remember that hindsight?
Well, once the dust had settled and the grief had passed…with the stillness came clarity.
Clarity that, just as Jasper had been suffering from PTSD…so had she.
Clarity that, while there had been a connection…there had been feelings involved…her time in Polis…and with Lexa…had been her own little version of an escape bubble…a way to remove herself from her people…the people who mattered most to her…the people who would've helped her heal.
Her time in Polis had been a search for validation.
Validation that she'd made the right choice.
Validation that she'd been the kind of leader her people needed.
Validation that there were other leaders out there who could do what she'd done and not think twice about it.
Staying in Arkadia…staying with him…would've meant whispers against tree trunks in the moonlight. It would've meant shared pain and murmurs of forgiveness. It would've meant sharing their grief…sharing their guilt…letting it tear them open and break them apart until they could help put each other back together again.
She couldn't handle that. Not again.
So she'd chosen the path of least resistance.
At first, it had been running…the desperate need to be alone. The desperate need to be away from the people who made her feel too much.
Then, when the opportunity had presented itself, she'd chosen to go where she knew she'd be accepted; where her actions wouldn't be seen as 'something terrible that had to be done, even if it eats you up inside,' but rather as 'something any good leader would've done, something you should be proud of.'
After all those months of grief…all those months of guilt…she'd chosen a way out.
And she'd chosen wrong.
The person she'd become in those weeks…it wasn't her.
It wasn't a her she ever wanted to see again.
And she couldn't help but wonder…if she hadn't been so selfish…if she'd listened to her heart and gone home…would they still be here?
Would Bellamy still have made the decisions he did, torn up by his own guilt, which she'd left him to face on his own?
Would the camp still have fractured so badly, with people taking the chip left and right as a means of escape?
Would she still have been forced to shut down the City of Light?
Would the nuclear reactors still have melted down?
Could they have gotten Alie to help them somehow?
Would she still have ended up here…alone on an uninhabitable Earth…while half the people she loved were trapped underground and the other half were trapped in a metal box in the sky?
She wasn't sure about the answers to any of those questions.
But on those days when she was angry…when she was cursing whatever God may or may not exist…on those days when she was forced to think about Jasper and Lexa…on those days she was forced to think about the mistakes she'd made…on those days, she asked herself every question there was.
But at the end of the day…after she'd told Monty he really needed to try making a batch of raspberry flavored moonshine…after she'd fought with her mother about turning in her father…after she'd teased Wells about how he'd always been tragically terrible at checkers…after she'd berated Lexa for betraying her at Mount Weather…after all that…she always came back to one person.
Bellamy.
Her co-leader. Her adversary turned unwilling ally turned friend turned…
Well, that was part of the problem, wasn't it?
She'd never been quite sure what they were.
She was friends with Jasper and Monty and Raven. Hell, sometimes she was even friends with Miller and Murphy.
But Bellamy…
He was in a category all of his own.
An unwavering presence at her side, whether she needed him or not.
A pain in the ass that challenged her in the best ways.
A steady hand to catch her…to push her…to hold her…whichever one she happened to need at the moment.
And the funny thing was, she was pretty sure he knew which one she needed more than she did, most of the time.
Honestly, it was just another part of their whole synchronicity.
Which…that was another thing. She had no idea how she'd managed to become so in-tune with another human being.
They could speak sentences…share their deepest feelings…have entire arguments, make up, and come up with a compromise…all with one look.
She'd never known someone the way she'd known him.
She'd never had someone know her the way he knew her.
It had been terrifying and liberating all at the same time, and she'd spent hours..hell, probably entire days…wishing she could have it back…have him back.
But it wasn't all sunshine and roses, just like their relationship. Sometimes, she thought about what an ass he'd been, their first few days on earth. Sometimes, she made up arguments she wished she could've had with him back in those days when he was telling everyone to do 'whatever the hell' they wanted. Sometimes, she cried with him over his sister…over Charlotte…over Jasper.
Her 'time' with him may not have been all sunshine and rainbows…but at the end of the day…when the stress of everything got to be too much…when she needed a reason to convince herself to wake up in the morning…her mind always went back to him.
She pictured his smile…the shy, vulnerable one she was pretty sure only she and Octavia got to see.
She pictured the way he used to look at her…his eyes full of something she could never quite name, but it made her feel indescribably warm.
She pictured the way he used to build her up, even when she didn't deserve it.
Not the false platitudes…not the cold pat on the back and chuck on the chin…not the armor she'd once sought from someone else.
No, the way he used to look into her eyes, tell her he understood her pain…tell her he shared her burden…tell he'd grant her forgiveness, if that was something that mattered to her.
He knew it did.
She knew, just as he did, that his forgiveness didn't undo the past. It didn't afford her the opportunity to go back and make better decisions. It didn't bring back the dead.
But just knowing that he forgave her?
That he saw her mistakes and could still utter those words…could still look at her with that look in his eyes…
That was a balm to her soul.
She'd only hoped she'd been able to do the same for him.
And after all that…she'd close her eyes and remember what it felt like to be in his arms.
She could count the number of times they'd held each other on one hand, but she could also remember every second of each one…as if those precious seconds were seared into her brain.
Their hugs had never been casual things; no one-armed pats or three-second friendly things…their hugs had always been full on embraces—long, and impossibly tight, and filled with so much emotion, even the thought of them threatened to make her come undone.
The feeling of his arms around her…his heart beating against her chest…his hand tangled in her hair and his nose buried in the curve of her neck…
That was what she thought about every night before she went to sleep.
She imagined him there, in Becca's lab with her, holding her on her narrow cot as she drifted off to sleep.
She tried to recreate the peace she'd always found in his arms.
It was a nice fantasy, and it usually let her close her eyes with a tiny bit of hope left…hope that one day, she'd find that peace in his arms again.
But she was so often struck with the thought that she should have done it more.
There had been so many times she'd wanted to reach out for him…so many times she'd needed him…so many times she'd known he'd needed her…but they'd both held themselves back.
And for what?
She would've given anything to go back and step into the circle of his arms every chance she possibly could.
It had taken her months of that yearning…months of missing him so badly, sometimes she could hardly breathe…for her to finally admit how she felt about him.
It took her even longer than that for her to admit that he probably felt the same way about her.
The funny part was…none of it was new information.
It just took months of self-reflection…months of healing…and months of courage…for her to finally admit that she was in love with him.
Irrevocably, unequivocally, unapologetically…in love with him.
The magnitude of it…the finality of it…was what had kept her from admitting it earlier, even when he'd been standing right in front of her.
Because how did an 18-year-old who'd lost almost everyone close to her acknowledge an emotion like this; one that would make all the other relationships she'd had in her lifetime pale in comparison?
How did she admit, even to herself, that losing this one man would probably crush her soul?
So she'd spent months treating him like a friend, trusting him with her entire being, worrying for him more than she did anyone else…yet always keeping him an arm's length away.
And the funny part was…she'd done all of that and he was still gone.
Not dead…she refused to let herself even entertain that notion.
But she was without him…for at least five years…and the pain of that was indescribable, even though she'd 'protected' herself.
…which meant her attempt to keep him at arm's length had all been for naught anyway.
She kicked herself daily that she hadn't hugged him more often…that she didn't know what his lips felt like pressed against hers…that she didn't know what it was like to fall asleep in his arms.
Those were memories she would've cherished…memories that would've helped her get through her years of forced solitude.
But, even while she kicked herself for not getting more…for not giving him more…she held on to those memories of him she did have, replaying them in her mind like cherished moments that they were…and promised herself that, the next time she saw him, they'd make up for all the time they'd missed.
A few months after she came to terms with her feelings for Bellamy, she found Madi. The young child had been alone in an old bunker, her mother having just died days before from malnutrition, giving all the food and water they had to her daughter once it had started to run out.
Clarke had adopted the terrified little nightblood, and they helped to heal each other over the following months and years.
Clarke still thought of Bellamy daily…she still radioed him daily…and she told Madi everything she could about him, hardly able to wait for the day he'd come back, so her two favorite people in the world could meet each other.
They'd lived a fairly boring, mundane existence…both of them counting down the days until the five-year mark hit and the bunker would open and the rocket would come back to Earth.
But five years came and went…and they were still alone.
At least Clarke could see the bunker. She knew it was buried by rubble, so she didn't wonder why they hadn't emerged yet.
But her friends in space…them,she couldn't help but worry about.
So many things could go wrong in space.
But she waited, and she stayed as calm as she could, both for herself and Madi, and she taught her adopted daughter more lessons and invented new games and told her stories of her friends that she'd already told her hundreds of times before…but Madi never seemed to mind.
And then, suddenly, that ship had fallen from the sky.
It had taken her by complete surprise when it ended up not being her friends.
She'd barely been able to make out the writing on the side through the scope of her rifle…'Eligius Corporation-Prisoner Transport,' before the ship had raised back up, gaining a bit of altitude before moving away, going horizontally along the Earth's surface.
Clarke had lost sight of it shortly after that, but she assumed it had to have landed somewhere nearby.
She wasn't sure who they were, what they wanted, or where they'd gone, but she and Madi had spent the next few days laying low, only coming out when needed to, trying not to give themselves away in case whoever was aboard turned out to be foe.
Clarke knew she was much more conservative in her decisions than she once would've been, but she had a child counting on her, and protecting her had become priority number one.
They'd stayed in the cave they'd made a home of, keeping the rover nearby and concealed, and Clarke had done a solo scouting mission a couple times a day, never venturing more than a mile or two from home, but always on the lookout for signs of these new people.
It was on one of these solo scouting missions that she'd seen another rocket fall from the sky…although this one clearly didn't have the control the first one did.
This one came barreling down, parachute deploying, but probably not soon enough, and it seemed to have landed a little roughly in the woods just a few miles ahead of her, if her estimation was at all correct.
She couldn't be positive, especially not after a random spaceship had shown up a few days before, but she was fairly sure this one had to be her friends.
A few thoughts raced through her head at once, including that she had to find them before the people on the other ship did.
She took off at a full sprint, rifle slapping a bit painfully at her back as she dodged fallen limbs and hopped across creek beds, the burn in her legs and the one in her lungs not even close to stopping her when she realized that she could very well see her friends within the next few minutes.
…she could very well see him.
She slowed a bit when she got closer to where she thought the rocket might have landed, keeping a watchful eye out in case someone else was aboard or in case anyone from the Eligius ship had managed to get there first.
She was keeping to the trees, using cover wherever she could find it, when suddenly, she walked around a large boulder…and there he was.
Clarke froze, her breath catching in her throat, her heart skipping a beat in her chest, her mind seemingly pausing all its other functions, because…
Bellamy.
She knew the moment he saw her, because his eyes widened dramatically, a look of complete shock covering his face.
She was torn between wanting to launch herself into his arms and just wanting to stay where she was, staring at him, because finally.
She was just preparing to do something…either open her mouth or step toward him, she wasn't sure which…when he did something that surprised her.
He let out a harsh breath, putting his hands on his hips and closing his eyes firmly. "Not again," he said firmly, sounding part pained, part disgusted.
Clarke watched him carefully, shocked by his response and unsure what she should do.
He opened his eyes warily, letting out a huff when he saw her again and quickly looking away.
"…Bellamy…" she said quietly, a little afraid of whatever was happening.
"No!" he said, voice raised, sounding almost angry by this point. "You're not…You're not real!" he half shouted, his voice breaking on the last word.
Clarke's brow furrowed, taking in his agitated state and trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Bellamy, I am. I'm real. I'm here," she said earnestly, taking a step toward him.
He promptly took a step backward. "Dammit, I thought…" he sighed in frustration, looking toward the ground. "It's been getting a little better lately. I thought… But, of course, being back on Earth makes me think of you even more." He shook his head, looking near tears. "I can't see you around every corner, Clarke. I can't."
Oh, God.
Clarke felt a sob catch in her throat as she put together the pieces.
He'd apparently been having some sort of dreams or visions of her.
She'd had more than a few of him, but she'd usually asked for them, she'd known what they were, and she'd taken comfort in them.
But him…his had probably been plagued by guilt.
He'd probably been haunted by her memory.
She took another step closer, reaching a hand out toward him. "Bell…I'm not a vision. I didn't die. I'm here, I promise," she said gently, walking slowly toward him.
He backed away from her at a fairly equal rate, his eyes so so wary. "That's what you always say," he whispered brokenly.
She gained a little ground on him, getting to within just a few feet, her hand still outstretched.
He started to panic, eyes wide, backing away faster, when he tripped over a tree branch and fell to the ground, not even seeming to notice as he kept scooting away from her. "Don't," he begged.
Clarke stepped over the branch he'd just tripped over, getting even closer. "Don't what?" she asked gently.
"Don't touch me."
That made her pause in her tracks, hurt and confusion battling for dominance in her brain and her expression. "Why?"
He closed his eyes, pain etched clearly all over his face. "Because every time I try to touch you, you disappear and I lose you all over again. I can't lose you again, Clarke. I can't," he said, his voice full of the most heartbreaking anguish she'd ever heard.
Her own heart clenched in response, pain for both of them making her chest hurt.
She started moving slowly toward him again, her hands held out in a placating, non-threatening manner.
She didn't want to give him a heart attack, but she also needed to touch him more than she needed to take her next breath.
He scooted back a few more feet, trying to get away from her, until his back finally came up against a tree. He leaned against it, seeming to give up.
She knelt on the ground near him, just studying him for a minute, letting her eyes roam over the person she'd missed so much. He looked older…a bit harsher. Some of the angles of his face had sharpened a bit, and his chest and shoulders seemed to be a little broader, leaving no doubt that he was all fully-grown man now, all traces of boyhood wiped away.
But he was still Bellamy, and she needed to ease his suffering as much as she needed to ease her own.
"Bellamy," she pled, "I'm not going to go anywhere. You're not going to lose me. You never lost me."
He watched her warily…sadly…a tear slipping down his cheek as his eyes bored holes into her.
She could tell he wanted to believe her, probably more than he'd ever wanted anything.
"Did you ever imagine me like this before?" she asked, trying a different approach. "Short hair, pink streak, your rifle on my back and your holster on my leg?"
His gaze flickered over her body, cataloguing the changes, and she could see the tiny glimmer of hope that seemed to enter them against his will. "No," he admitted quietly.
"Give me your hand," she said softly, scooting a bit closer and holding her hand out.
Bellamy tried to shy away, almost unconsciously, but he had nowhere to go with the tree at his back. But, even as he shied away, he kept his gaze on hers…the one that was desperate for her to be real.
"Bellamy," she begged, unable to keep her own desperation at bay any more. "Please?"
It was the pain in her voice that did him in; she knew it was. He never could stand to see her in pain.
He reached his hand out slowly, looking more terrified than she'd ever seen him look, even after every terrifying situation they'd been in together.
She waited until his hand was just a few inches from her own before she moved hers to meet it.
She saw the complete shock on his face when their hands touched, the way his eyes widened and he seemed to visibly stop breathing.
Determined to convince him, she scooted forward, using her free hand to push the collar of her leather jacket to the side and bringing their joined hands to her chest, pressing his palm against the skin left bare by her tank top…the skin just above her heart.
"I'm here," she promised, voice a whisper as she looked into his eyes.
He still looked shocked…a little terrified, as if he was afraid to believe it could be true.
She watched his eyes go back and forth from her eyes to their hands, where she knew he had to feel her heart beating underneath his palm; probably way too fast at the moment to be healthy, but strong and steady, nonetheless.
She saw the moment he let himself believe it…the moment he let her in.
"Princess?" he asked, tears of disbelief choking his voice as his free hand came up to tangle itself into the hair just behind her ear.
She choked on a half-laugh, half-sob, and promptly threw herself into his lap…into his arms.
His arms banded around her immediately, pressing her into his chest so tightly, she couldn't quite breathe.
Her arms slid around his waist, hands scraping the rough bark of the tree behind him as she tried to hold him.
It was perfect.
"How? Where?" he asked, clearly confused, full of questions, and trying to ask everything at once but also clearly not wanting to remove his head from where it was wedged into the curve of her neck.
"Later," she mumbled into his shoulder, keeping her eyes closed as tears trickled down her cheeks.
She felt him nod against her neck and pull her even closer to him, his hand tangling so far into her hair, she wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get it out.
She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but the only reason she finally forced herself to pull back was because she needed to see him again.
He loosened his arms, although seemingly reluctantly, but he needn't have worried, because she only moved back a few inches.
She let her eyes roam over his face, drinking him in. "God, I missed you."
He huffed a bit of a relieved laugh. "I missed you too," he said softly.
She worried her lower lip between her teeth, a bit of nerves finding their way through, because how did you deal with the magnitude of having everything you'd been dreaming of literally in your arms and realizing it was even better than you'd imagined…only to be hit by near paralyzing feelings of doubt?
What if he'd never felt the same?
Or what if he once had, but all their years apart had killed it?
"It's been a long time," she whispered, her hand sliding up his chest to his shoulder.
"Yeah, it has," he agreed, letting his hands fall to rest on her waist.
She nodded, moving her hand up to his jaw, letting her thumb run over the scruff he'd let grow there. "A lot's changed," she said, staring at his jaw, mostly because she couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes.
He tugged on her pink strand of hair, a bit of a playful quirk to his mouth. "Yeah, it has," he repeated.
Clarke gathered every ounce of courage she possessed, finally raising her eyes to meet his. "Has it?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper and full of all the emotions she'd kept bottled up inside her for so long.
He studied her for a moment, his gaze more intense than she'd ever seen it as his eyes searched hers. "No," he replied, his voice just as fervent as hers had been.
And then they were kissing frantically, just the desperate press of lips as they both gave in to what they'd been fighting…or been forced to do without…for the better part of seven years.
It took a minute for them both to relax into it a little, but then his lips were sweeping smoothly across hers, and she was opening for him, and their lips and tongues were slotting together like they'd always been meant to do it.
They kissed each other deeply, both desperate to get as close to each other as possible; his hands slipping just under her jacket and tank top to rest on her bare waist, and her hands tangling in his hair and sliding down into the collar of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers.
Clarke was dizzy with it…her brain hazy and full of nothing but him…but a nagging sound invaded her senses bit by bit until an ingrained danger warning finally made her tear her lips from his, her breathing harsh as she glanced around, trying to figure out what sort of impending doom was about to befall them.
Living alone, then being in the woods with a child to protect for the last few years, had sharpened Clarke's senses.
Knowing that she was the only thing standing between her child and some potentially horrible mutant predator had a way of making you hear every twig snap.
And that was what had invaded the bubble of euphoria she'd been sharing with Bellamy…a twig snapping.
Or multiple twigs, rather…as well as the rustling of leaves.
Someone was coming.
Clarke grabbed the rifle she'd dropped when she'd knelt down, pointing it in the direction the noise was coming from.
Bellamy took a moment to catch up, the hand he still had on her waist rubbing soothingly. "It's probably just our friends," he reminded her, then a thought seemed to occur to him. "Don't tell me the grounders came out of the bunker still wanting to kill us?!" he said in exasperation.
Clarke spared him a side glance. "Boy, have I got a lot to tell you," she said, only half joking.
The rustling got closer and closer…until Echo stepped into the clearing, stopping short.
Clarke slowly lowered the rifle, watching as the other girl processed the scene she'd come upon.
There was shock, clearly at finding Clarke alive…then there was a bit of confusion as she looked at the two people in front of her: Clarke still sitting firmly in Bellamy's lap, his hands still resting on her waist just under her shirt.
That's when Clarke felt Bellamy start to fidget a little against her.
She spared him a brief glance of confusion before her gaze flicked back to Echo, where she saw a new emotion.
One that looked like…jealousy.
Clarke stiffened in Bellamy's arms, turning back to look at him again and finding him looking a little uncomfortable, his gaze not quite meeting hers.
Clarke took a beat to process, not liking any of the possible conclusions that were coming to her.
...maybe some things had changed.
A/N: I hate the thought of B/E as much as everyone else, but I liked the thought of leaving this ending a little ambiguous. Were they dating? Had they hooked up a few times? Did Echo make a move and Bellamy turned her down? I guess that's up to you guys.
I just really liked the idea of highlighting that while some things may have changed...other things stayed exactly the same.