Notes: This story was originally posted under the same pen name at AO3 on Christmas 2015. The title comes from the song "Silver Bells" and its line "It's Christmas time in the city." I love NYC at Christmas time and part of this work is simply a tribute to the amazing holiday spirit you feel in the city streets during the holiday months.

First Movement: Joy

"I think you have to tie those."

Clarke glanced down at the white skate laces hanging limply in her hands before peering back at the young man who had spoken. A smile tugged at his lips as he ran a hand nervously through his curly black hair. A red and green plaid scarf was wrapped haphazardly around his neck above a gray peacoat. Despite the semi-formal ensemble, his demeanor was casual and his dark eyes sparkled in the twinkling holiday lights encircling Rockefeller Center. He'd paused tying his hockey skates while speaking to her, but upon her continued silence he resumed lacing them.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude…"

"No, no," she breathed out, dropping her skate laces and turning more fully toward him. "It's fine. I just spaced out there."

Which was a complete lie. She hadn't spaced out. She knew exactly where she was and the pain of it was like a million hornet stings. This had been their tradition for nearly three decades; a week before Christmas they'd come to Rockefeller Center and go skating. It didn't matter if her mother could make it down to the city or not, this tradition belonged to Clarke and her father. And now he was gone and Clarke had no idea how to be human again.

She'd tried just going about life as usual, but that had been an epic fail that ended with the worst breakdown of her life while driving on the Taconic State Parkway. A car had been the worst possible place to have the loss of Jake Griffin bowl over her like a tidal wave. The Taconic had just been icing on the cake. With no shoulder to pull over, she'd driven, tears streaming down her face and hysterical hiccups her only soundtrack, until she'd finally pulled off at the first Poughkeepsie exit. She'd pulled into the gas station at the side of the road and just let the waterworks flow until she could finally see again. Then she'd driven home and vowed to do something different.

So here she was, doing something different. This tradition was one of her favorites and Clarke hadn't been able to imagine the Christmas season without it. What she hadn't counted on was the oppressive grief the minute she actually sat down on the bench and pulled out her battered old skates. She'd thought it would be cathartic. A little pain followed by a whole lot of acceptance or something. Instead it was just heart-wrenching pain, followed by unrelenting grief.

Clarke tried to give the dark stranger a reassuring smile, but her lips refused to cooperate and she only managed a pathetic grimace. His eyes darkened as he stared back at her, his lips pursing for a moment before he spoke. "I take it this holiday season hasn't been the most joyful?"

She stiffened for a moment, wondering how in the world he'd made that deduction, before sighing. It hardly mattered how he'd figured out the dark cloud looming over her existed. It was nice to have someone, anyone at all, realize she wasn't okay. Not that she wanted to spew all of her tragic life details to some stranger, but it was nice to be noticed.

"Yeah. You could say that." She paused, studying him more attentively. His dark lashes sent shadows across a spattering of freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. The skin around eyes crinkled slightly and she reckoned he'd have dimples when he smiled. Gathering her laces again, she sent a more genuine smile his direction. "So are you a native or is this some holiday vacation?"

"Native, at least for the past few years. My sister is going to school at NYU so I moved to the city to be closer to her."

His eyes lit up as he mentioned his sister, sending a rush of something unfamiliar down Clarke's spine. She put her full attention into pulling the laces tight on her right skate before moving on to her left. "Is she here?"

"Yeah." He motioned out toward a brunette girl spinning at center ice. "She used to compete as kid, so she insists on coming here every chance she gets. I think she just likes showing off, but don't tell her I ever said that."

Clarke let out a small laugh, marveling at how natural it felt. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed. "I get that. I used to compete a bit when I was younger too. My dad and I would come every year and yeah, I mostly just wanted to show off a bit…"

His eyes ran up and down her form with a more critical gaze, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I look forward to see your skills out there."

"I'm pretty rusty. Being a doctor doesn't exactly allow for much time to hit the rink."

"You're a doctor?"

Feeling suddenly self-conscious again, she pulled extra hard on the laces of her left skate. "Uh, yeah…"

As if sensing her insecurity, he shook his head, sending black curls dancing about his head. "It's not that I have anything against doctors… it's just you look really young to be a doctor."

Clarke bit her lip, smiling down at her skate. "Is that your subtle way of asking how old I am?"

It was his turn to laugh now, the melodious sound sending a pleasant tremor through her. "I would never presume to ask a woman her age, especially before I even know her name." He stuck out his hand, a roguish grin bringing out his dimples. "Bellamy Blake."

"Clarke Griffin." She took his hand, letting her white glove be encompassed by his black leather one. His grip was firm, but not bone shattering. He held on a beat longer than necessary, his dark eyes searching her face, but Clarke couldn't bring herself to mind. This was the best she'd felt in weeks.

"Do I have to call you Dr. Griffin?" He asked as he stood, moving toward the rink entrance now that both of them had laced their skates.

Clarke baulked, shaking her head vehemently. "God no. That's what they call my mother. Clarke is fine."

"Hmm," he considered. He opened his mouth but a whirl of dark hair and flying snow swept between them as his sister slid into a hockey stop.

"Bell!" She glanced over her shoulder at Clarke, a knowing grin on her face. "What lies have you been telling this nice young woman?"

"Octavia, meet Clarke. Clarke, meet Octavia." Bellamy motioned between them, amusement leaking into his eyes.

"You better not be like the rest of his blonde bimbos." Octavia warned as she pivoted to face Clarke, her dark blue eyes running critically over every feature from her wavy blonde hair to her black peacoat and flared dark wash jeans. Octavia expression became significantly brighter as she studied Clarke's skates, her dark eyes locking with Clarke's in surprised delight. "Forget I just said that. You're a figure skater?"

"Once upon a time, yeah," Clarke replied, a smile tracing her lips. Octavia might be a bit intense, but Clarke already liked her.

"And she's a doctor, O," Bellamy added. "Hardly bimbo material."

Octavia rolled her eyes at her brother before grabbing Clarke's hand. "Come skate with me!"

Bellamy shrugged helplessly at Clarke as she followed Octavia out to center ice. Octavia came to an abrupt stop when they arrived, but Clarke easily mirrored her motion, muscle memory taking over. The brunette grinned back at her. "Sorry about that. Bell has the worst taste in women. The last one, Roma, was such a bimbo. I kept trying to talk to her about anything substantial, but she only cared about America's Next Top Model and Keeping up with the Kardashians. I ended up just avoiding his apartment at all costs when she was around."

Clarke shook her head in amusement. "So where does your brother find all these unworthy women?"

"I have absolutely no idea. He's a history teacher at this really sweet prep school on the Upper East Side, so all his fellow teachers are super smart. But he doesn't want to date them. Something about not dating in the workplace and them being elitist snobs."

"I get that. Prep school teacher, huh? Those jobs are pretty cushy, at least in the city." Clarke hadn't ever spent more than a few weekends down in the city, but she knew from her time at college in the Hudson Valley just how snobbish the city's elite could be.

"It's way better than what he was earning back home in Pennsylvania. He's super smart, but Bell just had to sacrifice so much. It's nice to see him finally getting recognized the way he ought to be." Octavia smile broadly before shaking her head, dark hair flying. "But enough about that. I want to see what you can do, Doctor."

An errant giggle erupted from Clarke's throat. "Alright, but keep in mind I haven't skated seriously in over a decade. Med school has a way of killing your soul and your hobbies."

"We'll start easy. Scratch spin!"

That she could do. Clarke easily did a few back crossovers before pushing onto a deep outside edge and spinning around in an upright position, her free leg crossing over her spinning leg. Despite the relative short duration of the spin, a rush of elation flooded through her. She'd forgotten how much she loved just spinning, twirling and turning across the ice.

"I suppose that's passing, Doc. How about a waltz jump?" Octavia questioned giddily. Clearly she was enjoying this as much as Clarke.

"Give me something harder," Clarke challenged. She could do a waltz jump in her sleep, drunk or both.

"Fine. Axel?"

Clarke stared at her for a moment before grinning. "You really don't pull your punches do you?"

"Hell no. So can you do it?"

Clarke surveyed the ice. It was crowded, not unexpected for the week before Christmas, but not too crowded. It'd been snowing in the morning and only just stopped when she'd headed to Rockefeller Center, so the rink was emptier than it had been previous years. So she probably wouldn't accidently kill anyone, but she might get them kicked off. She glanced over at the bored skate guard who was staring unblinkingly down at his phone.

"Yeah, I can definitely do it. But you have to also." Clarke raised a brow in challenge, already knowing Octavia would accept.

"You're on."

Both women grinned at each other as they set out in a wide circle of backward crossovers. Clarke ended up finding an open spot first, stepping forward and vaulting into the one and a half rotation turn like it was just another crossover. She landed cleanly, swinging her free leg out as she curved backward on a deep outside edge. Octavia launched herself a moment later, her technique impeccable as she soared through the jump. A glance at the skate guard, still attached to his phone, let them both know they'd gotten away with it.

They came together at center ice, giggling. Clarke wrapped an arm around Octavia, trying to speak through her laughter. "That was… the most fun I've had… in forever." Octavia merely grinned back, her face bursting with joy.

The sound of muted clapping had them both turning to face Bellamy as he arrived at center ice with a flashy hockey stop. He exchanged a fond look with his sister before turning to Clarke. Her heart skipped a beat as his luminous eyes caught hers, his full lips turned up in a boyish grin.

"I should be calling you Ice Princess or maybe just Princess." She stared back at him, but he gave no indication that he'd given any thought to the nickname and she found she didn't mind it nearly as much as she would have expected.

"Fine. But I'm not some physics whiz that can instantly turn your double jumps into triples."

Octavia exploded into another round of laughter. "Seriously. That movie was so damn lame."

"Not as bad as Ice Castles. New or old they both call Axels double jumps," Clarke argued.

Bellamy chuckled across from her. "I think the whole lot of them are terrible. I can't believe I let O force them upon me. There was this week when she was in middle school where I think we watched all of the Cutting Edge movies. I wanted to die or at least change my name and move to a different town."

Octavia's eyes narrowed as she stared her brother down. "One more word about that and you are dead to me, brother mine."

Clarke shook her head, laughing. She felt lighter than she had in weeks, as if the misery in her veins was finally beginning to abate. Her eyes caught Bellamy's and warmth flooded through her. Maybe, just maybe she could make her way through this.