See bottom for notes.
Story title credit goes to Biting Down by Lorde.

I.

Clarke sighed as she glanced at her watch; 3:15AM. Her shift was over in just under two hours, and she was already counting ahead to her next 48-hour shift at Ark Memorial Hospital. It was quiet this evening in the OR. She'd had a couple of minor surgeries—one appendectomy, two obstructed bowels, and one particularly nasty growth removal—before all was quiet on the front, and she could relax in the break-room with a steaming cup of coffee. The ache in her back dulled to an irritation as she slouched against the chair, her legs stretched out in front of her. While her body was grateful for the lack of activity, her mind was not. It was abuzz with duties she had to perform before she could go home, like checking various patients' charts and performing typical exams following surgery.

A chuckle behind her made her start, nearly falling out of her chair and spilling coffee all over herself.

"Even when on break you can't relax, can you?" Clarke looked anywhere but at his face, which he noticed. "Come on, Clarke. You can't ignore me forever, can you?"

Watch me, she wanted to say, but her body betrayed her and she shook her head. His face broke out in a wide grin, and three months ago such a sight would have made her stomach do somersaults. Now, it just made her sad.

Finn Collins was one of the best cardiologists on the east coast, and his perception and genuine care for his patients were what initially drew Clarke to him like a moth to a flame. It didn't hurt that he had attractiveness and charm in his corner. After numerous shared glances and a couple of coffee dates, Clarke was positive it would turn into something real.

But like many things in her life, a relationship with Finn was simply not to be, if his secret fiancée was an indication of that fact. When Clarke met Raven, she was determined to hate her, but "the other woman" was just far too kind and Clarke couldn't find a single mean bone in the woman's body. Finn, however, was the one who was not safe from Clarke's anger. Even after Clarke had called it off, if only to spare Raven the hurt, he continued to pursue her, determined to make her see that they were, in fact, meant to be together.

"Your girlfriend—I'm sorry, fiancée—doesn't prove that theory," she had said as icily as she could. The look of hurt on Finn's boyish face was enough to satisfy Clarke as she turned on her heel in a blonde whirlwind.

Now, as he stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, Clarke found his presence about as wanted as a tumor pressing on her lung.

"Clarke, I—"

She shot up from her chair to dump her empty coffee cup, effectively cutting him off from what was bound to be another "I want you, I need you" speech. Frankly, she'd heard enough of Finn's pathetic attempts to win her back.

"Don't, Finn," she murmured, coming to a halt in front of him. He was blocking the door. She kept her eyes trained on his blue scrubs, willing herself not to look up.

"Please," he pleaded, "just hear me out, okay?"

"No, Finn," she said more firmly. This time she let herself meet his eyes in a stony glare that could crumble mountains. "I've had enough of the explanations, the reasons, the excuses. I'm done. Aside from work, I don't want to speak to you or even see you."

She brushed by him none too gently, knocking him off balance against the doorframe. He could only stare helplessly after her as she wandered down the hall to start her rounds. Once she got to the nurses' station on the third floor, she rested her elbows on the counter and dropped her head into her hands, sighing.

"Rough night?" asked Harper, the nurse behind the desk. She had a sad smile on her face; after the incident with Finn, word was quick to get around the hospital. Even the interns knew the ugly details of the falling out between her and Finn.

"You have no idea. Can I have the charts for 31F?" Harper handed her the binder wordlessly. "Thanks."

Clarke started on her rounds, checking her watch every few minutes. 4:30 rolled around and Clarke was nearly finished her rounds when the pager on her hip started beeping wildly. Sighing a curse, Clarke checked the message and felt the adrenaline rush almost immediately as her feet moved of their own accord to the emergency room.

"What've we got?" she called as she met up with the nurses and paramedics wheeling in a gurney.

"43-year-old male, Doug Marsh, hit-and-run, broken arm, four cracked ribs, bleeding from the mouth, likely internal bleeding."

"Let's get him in the OR now. Ellie, clear OR51." Clarke was all business; as soon as that pager went off, it was like a flip got switched inside her brain.

Clarke scrubbed her hands outside the OR while the patient was prepped for surgery. Once he was under, Clarke began the procedure, opening his abdomen to search for the bleeding. She found it quickly but cursed when her tools slipped over the artery, unable to sew it closed.

Too much blood, she thought as she grit her teeth. She almost cried out in success as she managed to get a suture through the flesh, continuing to tie the artery closed. Her joy was outlived, however, when blood continued to leak through the sutures, the artery pulsing.

"He's still bleeding!" she cried. Outside the circle of nurses, the monitor went haywire with shrill beeping. Clarke's mind went into overdrive as she fought to sew more sutures into the artery, but blood was still coming. The abdomen was quickly filling with blood, and each fresh wave that pulsed out of the artery drained Clarke's hope until finally, the monitor slowed to one long, consistent beep. The line was flat.

In Clarke's medical career, she'd only had two patients die on the table. Three, she thought bitterly as she sat outside the OR, her head in her hands. Any time a patient died on the table was a hard hit for a surgeon, but Clarke took it almost personally. She saw it as a failure to save a life, a failure to the degree hanging up in her office.

"You did everything you could, Clarke." A hand laid itself on her shoulder and she peered upwards into the face of Monty, one of the paramedics that had brought in Mr. Marsh. He was smiling sadly in an attempt to get her out of the dark corner of her mind.

"If I had he wouldn't be lying in the morgue right now," was her clipped response. Monty sat in the vacant seat next to her.

"Clarke, the man was bleeding out. It was just his time to go, and that isn't your fault." Clarke understood what he was trying to do, but unfortunately for her the dark corner of her mind was slowly winning out. She sighed dejectedly and all Monty could do was squeeze her shoulder one more time before returning to the ambulance.

Needing to move, to not think about the latest tenant in the Ark Memorial morgue, Clarke stood up and approached the nearest nurses' station.

"Was the family of Mr. Marsh notified?" she asked tiredly. The nurse behind the desk nodded.

"They're on their way down." Clarke nodded, pursing her lips.

This was the part she hated the most. The first time Clarke had to relay bad news to a family, she nearly broke down with them. But she somehow kept her composure until she was out of sight. The sobs that wracked her body were hardly muffled by her hands. They were ugly and gave her a headache afterwards.

You never forget your first.

Finn's words echoed in her head; they were one of the first things he'd ever said to her—he was the one who comforted her after telling a family they'd never see their son again, after all. But they were also some of the harshest words he'd ever said to her; it was after Clarke found out about Raven and had confronted him for messing with her head and her heart. She was done, she told him, and she'd never waste another thought on him. And with a cold glint in his eye that Clarke had never seen before, he uttered those words like they held some kind of weight.

Clarke snapped out of her reverie as her name was called. Standing before her was an older woman with greying brown hair and glossy blue eyes. Unshed tears pooled at her lash lines.

This must be Mrs. Marsh.

"Are you Dr. Griffin?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Clarke smiled sadly, nodding. "I am. You must be Mrs. Marsh. I'm sorry that we're meeting under these circumstances. Your husband was struck by a hit-and-run this morning, but I'm very sorry to say that the damage was far too extensive. We did everything we could, but—"

She was cut off mid-sentence when Mrs. Marsh let out an agonizing wail that sent chills down Clarke's spine. Mrs. Marsh pitched forward and Clarke had no choice but to catch her. The woman was crying into Clarke's white lab coat while she rubbed comforting circles on the older woman's back.

"I'm so very sorry, Mrs. Marsh," she murmured despite herself. Four years, and Clarke still wasn't used to the throb in her chest every time she had to bring bad news to someone who probably didn't deserve it.

It took two nurses to pry Mrs. Marsh away from Clarke and sit her down in a chair. Clarke wiped a hand across her forehead tiredly before checking her watch. 6AM. Her shift ended an hour ago.

She made a beeline for the locker room, sure to turn off her pager before she could get sucked away from heading home to her bed. She changed quickly, tossing her lab coat and scrubs into the locker and slamming it shut.

She bid goodnight to the nurses behind the desk and hurried out into the lightening day. The sun was barely up by the time she pulled her car into her apartment complex. She took the stairs two at a time and unlocked her door, all but slamming it closed behind her. Then she let the tears fall, choking back a sob as her eyes pinched closed. After a few short minutes of leaning against the door and trying to keep as quiet as she could, Clarke swiped her fingers under her eyes, ridding any trace that she had been crying. Her roommate's door was still closed when she walked by; Jasper should be awake any moment now, preparing for class. She didn't want him to see her in her current state, though. She couldn't ignore the sympathy in his eyes whenever she came home a mess; it didn't happen often, but it happened enough for Clarke to be bothered by it. This was her career; messes were part of it.

Author's Note: So I might be making a little bit of a comeback as far as writing goes. This is my very first Bellarke fic so please be nice. Also reviews give me life, so leave one :)