The Last Verse

by Jeanie205

On a snowy Christmas Eve, Clarke gets a ride home from college from the fascinating Blake siblings, who then disappear from her life. Until five years later, when she meets a very different Bellamy Blake, one who doesn't like Chrismas at all. An AU holiday fic.

Five years ago...

"Are you sure he won't mind?"

"Nah! Bellamy's cool like that. And it's not really much out of our way."

Octavia seemed certain that her brother wouldn't mind giving Clarke a lift home, but Clarke wasn't so sure. While they waited, she asked herself for the hundredth time how she'd been dumb enough to even get herself into a situation where she was now dependent on the good will of a total stranger.

Even if it was the season for it.

XXXXXXXXXXX

As far as Clarke was concerned, she'd been way too busy with finals to even think about Christmas shopping. And yeah, she probably could have done it online, but she actually liked the last-minute hustle and bustle.

So the very second she finished her last final, she hurried into town, convinced that she could get it all done long before her mother arrived at the dorm to pick her up for the winter break. And she was mostly right. Clarke marched triumphantly through her Christmas list, and the deep Christmas Eve discounts really made her shopping dollars stretch.

Unfortunately, she hadn't paid nearly as much attention to the time as she had to the bargains.

The early midwinter nightfall was already closing in as she hurried back to campus, dutifully rehearsing an appropriate apology in anticipation of her mother's likely annoyance. But when she finally reached the dorm, short of breath, multiple colorfully-decorated bags hanging precariously from her fingers, Abby Griffin was nowhere in sight.

A quick check of her messages confirmed Clarke's worst suspicions.

Emergency surgery. Life or death. Very sorry but Clarke would have to take the bus.

Shit! She hated long bus rides. They always made her sick. But she knew there was no help for it. Her father wasn't due home from his trip for another couple of hours, and it was already starting to snow. So it looked like there was nothing for it but to swallow a Dramamine and hope for a front seat on the bus.

It wasn't until she'd stuffed her gifts and her clothes into a pair of duffle bags that Clarke understood that potential bus-sickness was actually the least of her problems. That revelation came at the precise moment she realized her wallet was missing.

Not that she'd lost it. Nope, she was pretty damn sure she remembered exactly where she'd left it. Right on the counter in that last store, the one she'd zipped into to buy the extra fun gift for Wells.

The place where she'd finally noticed the time and run out the door in a panic.

Clarke grabbed her phone, but a quick call to the store elicited only a recorded message that they were closed until the 26th. And an equally quick perusal of the deserted hallways told her that at 5pm on Christmas Eve Clarke Griffin was apparently the last person left in the dorm.

Until a girl with long dark hair came racing by towards the outer door.

"Hey, wait up!" Clarke called out frantically, hefting her bags and following the other girl through the doorway.

The girl turned in surprise.

"Oh, hey!" she said. "I was sure I was the last person left. My brother couldn't come get me until he finished his own classes."

Clarke stared at the girl and considered how to proceed. A straight-up loan request seemed like it might be her best bet, but on the other hand this girl didn't know her, and who the hell lent money to a stranger? Besides which, she wasn't even sure about the cost of a ticket...

"So, what's up?" the girl asked, frowning, when Clarke remained silent.

Clarke shrugged inwardly and decided to go for it.

"The thing is," she began hurriedly, "I left my wallet at Angie's Gift Shoppe and it's closed now. And my mom had emergency surgery so she can't come pick me up, so I have to take the bus home. And I was wondering...I know this is gonna sound crazy...but can you possibly lend me fifty bucks for the ticket? I mean, I know you don't know me but I promise I'll send you the money as soon as I get home..."

Clarke stopped abruptly when girl snorted.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your mother's surgery," she said, looking a little embarrassed,.

"What? Oh, no. My mom is doing the surgery, not having it. But it's still why she's not coming..."

The girl nodded. "Okay, that's good. But... still sorry. I can't help you. I think I've got about three bucks left in my wallet."

Clarke's stomach sank as she understood that she'd have to figure another way out of her predicament.

The girl regarded her curiously. "So where are you headed? Where's home?"

"West Ark."

"West Ark! Well, hell, that's no problem. Bellamy - that's my brother - he can give you a ride home. We live in Ark City, and West Ark is only a couple miles away."

The girl held out her hand. "I'm Octavia Blake,"

Clarke shook her savior's hand. "Clarke Griffin."

She paused then, hesitating. Almost afraid to ask.

"Are you sure he won't mind?"

"Nah! Bellamy's cool like that. And it's not really much out of our way."

XXXXXXXXXX

Bellamy Blake did indeed turn out to be cool. And hot as well, although Clarke decided to keep that assessment to herself. But really, the best thing about him was that he was kind. Instead of making her feel more like an idiot than she already did, he just threw her stuff into the trunk and said, "Hey, shit happens. Let's get going before the snow gets bad."

It was coming down lightly but steadily by then and Clarke was relieved that she was in a warm car with the congenial Blakes. She learned that Octavia was a freshman who lived in Clarke's dorm and that Bellamy had an off-campus apartment and was just finishing up an MEd. Their mom lived in Ark City, and apparently they had all sorts of Christmas traditions that they were eager to get back to, despite their ages.

"We gotta let Mom have her fun," Octavia said, grinning, as though she were the parent making the fun Christmas for her kids.

Bellamy hooted. "Yeah, right, O. It's not like you're the one who insists on the popcorn and cranberry stringing every year. Or the Christmas charades."

"Christmas charades? What's that?" Clarke asked from the back seat.

"You don't wanna know," Bellamy assured her, winking at her in the rear-view mirror. When the wink turned into a grin, Clarke could feel herself blushing. She wasn't sure what it was about this guy, but thank goodness it was dark inside the car.

"So what else, then?" she asked, pulling herself together. "What are the other big plans?"

"Well," Octavia shifted in her seat so she could look at Clarke, "If there's snow - and it looks like there will be - we make Christmas snow angels. And a Santaman..."

"A...Santaman?"

Octavia laughed. "Yeah, that's a snowman with a Santa hat."

"Uh...okay."

In the mirror, Bellamy was grinning again. "We started making him when O was little because we didn't have a fireplace and she was convinced Santa wouldn't be able to find her without some kind of sign."

Octavia turned to him in surprise. "Really? I don't remember that. I just thought it was... something we always did."

"Yeah, well I was waiting until it was safe to tell you," Bellamy said dryly.

"Safe?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "When you finally stopped believing in Santa."

"Shut up, you asshole," Octavia complained, laughing, poking him in the ribs.

"Hey! No hitting the driver," Bellamy objected. "Especially when it's snowing."

Clarke could feel her smile widening as she watched the siblings bicker about silly squabbles that probably reached back into what sounded like a very happy childhood.

"So what happens after the charades and the popcorn stringing and the...uh...Santaman?" she couldn't help asking.

"Ah, that's my favorite part," Octavia said, lowering her voice and turning once again toward the back seat. "That's when we get to have the mysterious elf juice."

"Elf juice?" Clarke gasped, grinning.

And then Bellamy was smiling, too, his eyes flicking quickly between meeting her glance in the rear-view mirror and keeping an eye on the snowy roadway ahead.

"Hot mulled cider," he explained. "I do that part myself. Sometimes I even add a little something extra to my own cup," he confided with a wink as their eyes met.

"Yeah, well this year you can add it to mine, too," Octavia insisted, pouting.

"Yeah, right, so you can be running to the bathroom every ten minutes while we're trying to decorate the tree."

"Shut up!" Octavia said. "But, hey, now that you mention it, can you pull into the rest stop up ahead? I gotta pee."

Bellamy groaned. "Okay, but make it quick. The snow's starting to get heavier."

Octavia jumped out as soon as he parked, slamming the door behind her.

"Just gonna keep the car running and the heat on so we won't get cold," Bellamy said, turning around to face Clarke. "O's always quick."

Clarke nodded, unable to think of a reply that wasn't idiotic. Really? She pees fast? Great!

If she'd thought Bellamy Blake was charismatic in his reflection in the rear-view mirror, having the full force of his charm turned on her directly was a little terrifying.

"So what are your big holiday plans, Clarke? A bunch of relatives waiting at home for you to begin the festivities?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Both my parents are working, although my dad should get home pretty soon. Not sure about Mom. It could be a while."

Bellamy nodded sympathetically. "It sucks when the 'rents get stuck with a Christmas Eve shift. Mom always tried to be home when O was little but sometimes she just couldn't."

"Oh, well, uh...right..." Clarke wondered exactly what Octavia had told him about her situation beyond she lost her wallet, because she had a terrible feeling that they weren't talking about the same thing at all. But she also had no idea how to correct Bellamy Blake's assumptions without sounding like a real asshole.

"So what about tomorrow? Plans for the big day?"

"Um...dinner with family friends. Opening gifts. That's about it."

"And, um... the rest of your vacation? Boyfriend? Or...uh, girlfriend?"

"Neither," Clarke answered faintly. His question had been so casual, so off-hand, that she was sure she must be reading an interest into it that wasn't really there. He was just being...polite.

Or maybe not.

Bellamy had cleared his throat, as though he had something he wanted to add, when the passenger door flew open and Octavia threw herself back into the car.

Clarke thought she heard a soft sigh from Bellamy before he twisted back around and put the car in gear. An absurd sense of disappointment filled her as she tucked herself into the corner of the backseat.

"So let's get the hell going, big brother. I thought you were in a hurry," Octavia pressed.

"Just waiting for the wipers to do their job, O," Bellamy said, before pulling back onto the highway.

"So...is that it, then?" Clarke asked quickly, trying to yank her thoughts back from what she knew couldn't possibly have almost happened. "The elf juice? Tree trimming?"

Octavia turned back with a happy smile. "Not quite. Then we sing the Christmas carols."

"Really?" Clarke said, surprised, because Octavia didn't seem like the Christmas carols type at all. But then the Blakes were not turning out to be conventional in even an unconventional way. "I love Christmas carols. Which ones are your favorites?"

Octavia shrugged. "I have lots of favorites," she said, turning to her brother. "Sing with me, Bell."

Bellamy groaned. "O, I'm trying to drive here."

"Come on," she wheedled. "You can drive and sing at the same time. The snow's slowing us down and I'm getting bored."

He chuckled and gave his head quick shake. "Okay," he said, giving in. "You start."

Clarke was pretty damn sure that Bellamy was a cream puff when it came to Octavia, at least about the small things. Like singing in the car. She waited to see which song they'd choose, deciding she might even join in.

"Fast away the old year passes. Fa la la la la, la la la la," Octavia began.

"Hail the new year, lads and lasses. Fa la la la la, la la la la," Bellamy took up the next line.

Clarke frowned, perplexed. She was sure she knew the song. All those falalas were a dead giveaway. But everything else was unfamiliar.

Before she had time to think much about it, they were on to a new song.

"He rules the world with truth and grace.

And makes the nations prove.

The glories of his righteousness.

And wonders of his love, and wonders of his love.

And wonders, and wonders of his love."

Clarke knew that song, too, and yet...apparently... she didn't.

When they started in on a third one...

"Hail, the heaven-born prince of peace.

Hail the son of righteousness.

Light and life to all he brings..."

...she decided this was getting just a little ridiculous.

"Stop!" She practically shouted it. "What are you singing? Those aren't the words I learned!"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," Octavia said, shifting around again, and even in the car's dark interior Clarke could see the glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Forgot what?"

Bellamy chuckled as he supplied the answer. "With Christmas carols, O likes to start with the last verse. When she was a kid, she always said they saved the best verses for last and wanted to know why we had to wait to sing them. So we just started...singing them first."

"Really?" Clarke was fascinated by how easily Octavia was able to dispense with tradition.

"Yeah! Why should we have to work our way through five verses of I Saw Three Ships to get to the part that says..."

... she raised her voice and sang lustily...

"And all the bells on earth shall ring, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, and all the bells on earth shall ring, on Christmas Day in the morning."

Octavia smiled and added, "Isn't that a great thing to think about? All the bells on earth ringing together? So why not just...start with that?"

Clarke just gaped, thankfully saved from coming up with any sort of reply when Bellamy announced that they were at last approaching the exit for West Ark, and she was forced to give all her attention to providing him with directions.

As they wound their way through the streets towards Clarke's neighborhood, she began to study the homes they passed with fresh eyes. She knew the houses would become more and more grand as they traveled toward the posh cul-de-sac that included the Griffin residence, and she wasn't sure why, but somehow that made her... uncomfortable.

While Octavia appeared unfazed, Clarke watched Bellamy's reaction in the rear-view mirror. First his brow wrinkled in confusion and then his lips grew tighter and tighter as each turn brought them onto an ever-more-upscale street.

When they finally reached the Griffin house, and she called out faintly, "Here it is," Bellamy stopped at the curb instead of turning into the sweeping circular drive that fronted the enormous house. While this was the place she thought of simply as home, Clarke could see how imposing it might seem to a stranger, adorned as it was with hundreds of white lights and a huge Christmas wreath on the door.

"You can pull into the driveway," Clarke murmured uncertainly, "or...no, of course not, never mind. You don't want to get stuck in the snow. If you could just open the trunk so I can grab my stuff..."

She had unbuckled her seatbelt and was reaching for the door handle when the car began to move again.

"There's not that much snow yet," Bellamy muttered, inching carefully up the drive. "And...I don't want you to get hurt."

When he stopped the car finally, and pulled out her bags, she turned to thank him, to thank both of them. Octavia waved gaily from inside the car, totally unconcerned with her surroundings, while Bellamy stood there in the snow nodding solemnly.

"No problem," he said politely. "Have a nice Christmas."

But his smile was gone. The silly grin and the glint in his eye. The flicker of interest he'd shown as they sat alone in the car at the rest stop. While she was sure she hadn't imagined it, it looked like she might as well have, because it had disappeared entirely.

Clarke didn't bother asking herself what was wrong because she already knew. Thanks to her predicament, Bellamy Blake had assumed she had one kind of life. One more like his own, perhaps, with a parent who wasn't always able to get rid of "the Christmas Eve shift."

But then it turned out that Clarke Griffin lived a different sort of life entirely.

She wanted to shout that none of that mattered, that she didn't give a damn about things like that, but his face was already arranged into a polite mask. Nerves frayed and crazy with frustration, she naturally proceeded to make the situation much, much worse.

"This was really so great of you. I don't know what I would have done if you and Octavia hadn't come to my rescue." Clarke was beginning to babble frantically as she fought a losing battle to rip away the mask and reestablish their earlier connection. "Uh... can I at least reimburse you for the gas?"

And that's what finally got her a reaction.

Just not the one she wanted.

Bellamy's eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and one corner of his mouth turned up in the tiniest of sneers.

"Yeah, you know what, Clarke? I estimate this little side trip took us maybe... I don't know... ten miles out of our way. And, let's see, I paid two-eighty a gallon for gas earlier and my vintage car still manages twenty miles per gallon, so that comes to...well, you do the math."

When Clarke remained silent, her mouth slightly agape, Bellamy finished the calculation himself.

"I think I can afford the buck-forty," he said, his voice tight. "So please keep your money."

She was aghast. "Bellamy, you know that's not what I meant at all..."

"The house is dark," he interrupted her. "Sure you got your key?"

"Right here." She pulled it out quickly.

"Go ahead, then," he insisted. "I'm not leaving you standing on your doorstep."

Unable to think of a single thing that might make the situation better, Clarke inserted her key. By the time she had the door open, Bellamy was already back in the car, and by the time she'd flipped the lights and moved to the front window, only the taillights on the Blake car were visible as it disappeared down the road.

Clarke found herself unable to simply let it go. She spend a good many hours over that winter break considering exactly how she might make things right with the Blakes. Dreaming up ways to pay them back for their kindness that had nothing to do with money and everything to do with friendship.

But she was never able to put any of those plans into action.

When she got back to campus a few weeks later and asked at the dorm about Octavia Blake, it turned out that she had dropped out of school. No one knew any details - or at least none they were willing to share with Clarke. As for Bellamy, she had no idea where to even begin looking for him.

She spent weeks trying to figure out what to try next, but after a while Clarke was forced to admit defeat. To swallow her disappointment and accept the idea that the Blakes had disappeared from her life just as quickly and as mysteriously as they'd entered it.

Her snowy Christmas Eve journey began to take on a kind of mythical quality. Like it was a story she'd been told about events that had happened to someone else entirely. But still, somehow, she never forgot a single thing about it.

XXXXXXXXXX

Present day...

When she switched her major from pre-med to art in the middle of her sophomore year, Clarke had never once considered that she might end up art education. She just wanted to study something she really enjoyed rather than something she was merely good at.

But then senior year, a required internship, Art in the Community, took her to a local elementary school, and she immediately fell in love with the idea of getting kids into art. Best of all was satisfaction that came from winning over the ones who didn't like to draw, who were convinced that art projects weren't for them. She found that feeling...addictive.

While Clarke's mom had initially encouraged her to focus instead on her own talent, right from the beginning her dad was supportive and understanding about the prospect of her becoming a teacher.

"There's nothing to prevent you from having it all," Jake had reminded her. "Teach the kids and do your own thing, too. The best of both worlds."

When he died suddenly only weeks later, the victim of a massive heart attack, a devastated Clarke recalled that conversation and took his words to heart. She was accepted into the masters program in Art Education, and two years and one summer session later, she was ready, willing, and able to take up the challenge.

Ready, willing, and able... but not, unfortunately, employed.

Clarke moved back in with her mother and tried not to worry. Instead, she decided to look at her sudden freedom as a gift, giving her the time she needed to finally finish up a personal project, something near and dear to her heart that she'd been working on for years in her spare time.

Make time for your own work, too, her father had told her, and Clarke had not forgotten.

In early November, she caught a lucky break. A friend of Abby's... who happened to be the principal of Ark City Elementary School... hired her to replace the art teacher who'd resigned suddenly mid-semester.

"This has nothing to do with your mother," Marcus Kane assured her when he offered her the job. "I feel lucky to have found someone with your qualifications."

Abby was thrilled for her, although she tried to talk her out of moving. "Why should you waste your money on rent when there's plenty of room here?"

"Because you've been footing the bill for years, Mom. I think it's time I learned to take care of myself."

Clarke couldn't have afforded anything in West Ark, of course, but she found a tiny apartment in the city that she could manage on her salary. She moved in on a Saturday and began her new job the following Monday.

Since it was the middle of the school year, there were no introductory meetings where she could sort out who was who among the rest of the faculty. Instead, she met her colleagues one by one as each group of students rotated to her for their weekly art class.

So it wasn't until the end of her first week - a busy, exhausting week, in which she'd barely left the art room - that Clarke learned she already knew one of the teachers. Had met him, in fact, on a snowy Christmas Eve almost five years earlier. After which he'd disappeared from her life forever. Or so she'd thought.

She was watching the fifth-graders trail in late on Friday afternoon, happy be meeting her final bunch of students, when she glanced up to find their classroom teacher staring at her from the doorway. Clarke's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she felt the world grind to a halt.

His hair was a little shorter, and he looked a bit older, but she would have known Bellamy Blake anywhere.

It was clear from his shocked expression that he recognized her, too. He seemed rooted to the spot as they gazed at each other over the heads of a gaggle of giggling ten-year-olds.

"Bellamy." She barely breathed it, the sound scarcely escaping, but her use of his first name seemed to snap him out of his stupor, and the polite mask she remembered all too well settled into place.

"Ms. Griffin," he nodded coolly, then turned a quelling glance on the students.

"Just because Ms. Griffin is new here, don't let me hear about anyone giving her a hard time. Art classes are a privilege. One that can easily be replaced by extra work back in my room. So watch yourselves, people."

Clarke struggled to recover, to turn and smile at the class as they stared at her curiously, but a moment later she couldn't help glancing back towards the doorway, only to see that Mr. Blake had disappeared. Once again.

Of course this time she knew exactly where to find him.

All weekend long, Clarke fretted over what she should do about Bellamy Blake's sudden reappearance in her life.

For perhaps two minutes, she considered just... letting it go. Pretending that they'd never met at all. But she understood herself well enough to know she'd never be able to pull that off.

She next convinced herself that the casual approach would work. Acknowledge that they'd met - of course they had, and wasn't it hilarious (maybe add a few giggles here) how she'd lost her wallet and been been stuck without a way home until Bellamy and Octavia had come to her rescue? And, by the way, how was Octavia these days?

Her strong conviction that this would be the best strategy lasted almost an entire morning. Until she suddenly recalled the intense look that had passed between them just before Bellamy's mask once again dropped into place. And her own reaction to it. Which was why she knew in her gut she could never make casual convincing.

By the time Clarke climbed into bed on Sunday night, exhausted, she accepted that she wasn't going to be happy until she'd cleared the air. Apologized. Maybe even let him know how much her memories of that night had inspired her in her work.

Clarke tossed and turned as questions swirled around in her head. When she finally fell into a restless sleep, she was no nearer to a solution than ever.

As she drove to school Monday morning, early for once, she told herself the simplest answer was to definitely, positively, and absolutely avoid Bellamy Blake at all costs. Which is why it made no sense at all that her first stop on arrival was not her classroom, nor even the faculty lounge. It was the Principal's Office, where she inquired - as casually as possible of course - exactly how to find Mr. Blake's classroom.

Second floor, at the other end of the school from the art room, so she wasn't going to be able to pretend she was just happening by. But then again, it was pretty early. Maybe she could ...yes! That was it! Why the hell hadn't she thought of it before? She'd just write him a note expressing her regrets about how their first meeting had ended...and...and...slip it under the door!

Clarke was so busy fishing for paper and mentally composing the exact right wording for her apology that she never even noticed that Bellamy's door was already open and that the man himself was sitting at his desk.

If her comfortable shoes had had hydraulic breaks, he would certainly have heard them squealing as she came to a sudden halt in the doorway. Despite her silence, something made him look up, and for just an instant his face was wreathed in surprise before the polite mask descended.

"Clarke. I... wasn't expecting you. Can I do something for you? Uh...were the kids okay on Friday? Because I know there are a couple of little shits..."

"No," she said hurriedly. "They were fine. Great, in fact."

"They were." He seemed surprised.

Clarke nodded, wondering why she'd put herself through this torture when he so clearly wasn't interested in any kind of personal conversation.

"Look, Bellamy. I... know things ended badly the first time we met..."

He shook his head impatiently, his face blank. "We barely spoke and anyway it was years ago."

"Yeah, I know," she rushed ahead, "but I really want to apologize. I insulted you without meaning to, and then I couldn't..." Clarke paused, took a deep breath. "Octavia never came back to school and I couldn't find you, so it just got left like that..."

"Clarke!" Bellamy rose from his seat. "You've apologized. Fine. Now if you don't mind, I really need to get some work done."

"Of-of course. I'm sorry to bother you. It's just that that night has always kind of weighed heavily in me."

"Christ, Clarke! Let it go! I've pretty much forgotten the details and I'd be happy to never have to talk about that night again."

Clarke felt her face flame. How the hell had she once again managed to make everything worse?

"Right," she said, recognizing her cue. "I'll, uh, see you around."

Clarke wasn't sure what she'd hoped to accomplish by insisting on saying her piece. But she certainly hadn't expected to feel crappier than ever.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next scheduled art class for Mr. Blake's students was the day after Thanksgiving, so they'd be missing it. Which meant that instead of discussing with the class what holiday decorations they'd like to make for their classroom during their December art classes, she'd have to take it up with Mr. Blake himself. Of course Clarke had succeeded in putting off that conversation for so long that now she was bumping right up against the deadline for ordering supplies.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so annoyed with herself. Why the hell was she so unnerved? She was, after all, a grown-ass woman, and a damned attractive one at that! She'd talked to a lot of guys a hell of a lot better-looking than Bellamy Blake...

Shit! Why the fuck was she thinking about how attractive he was? He was merely her colleague and she'd have to find a way to deal with him.

By the time she was leaving school that Friday, Clarke had worked herself into such a state that when she noticed Bellamy's car was still in the lot, she fairly marched back into the building to immediately beard the lion in his den.

She knocked on his door, opening it and stepping in before he could even respond. Clarke was on a mission and she wanted it behind her.

When he saw her in the doorway, Bellamy's expression was wary. She could almost feel the tension radiating from his body. She rushed into speech before he could stop her.

"Look, I just need to know about the Christmas decorations," she said quickly. "For your room, I mean. Usually, we decide in art class, but your kids are missing the next one and I have to order supplies. So I need to know what you'd like."

There! It had been a mad rush but she'd got it all out. Now all he had to do was tell her what he wanted and she could leave.

"I don't decorate."

For just a second, she didn't take it in. And when she did she didn't believe it.

"What? This is the holidays and this is an elementary school. We don't do any religious stuff, of course, but everything else is okay." Clarke could feel her voice getting testy. "And the kids love it. So why would you not decorate?"

Bellamy's eyes narrowed, and when he responded his voice was brusque. "You know, I don't think I really need to explain myself to you since Mr. Kane is fine with my position. But if you must know, I don't like Christmas."

"But that's... ridiculous! You love Christmas!"

"And how the hell would you know that! Or anything else about me?"

"Because...I remember you talking about it. About your mother. I know you got mad at me at the end, but before that..."

"Jesus, Clark! What the hell makes you think everything is about you?"

"I don't think it's about me!"

She could feel herself getting angry, hear her voice rising. She suddenly realized they were practically yelling at each other, their voices more than likely reverberating off the walls in the empty school building. But she couldn't seem to help herself.

"I wasn't talking about me! I was talking about your mother, about the things you..."

"Fuck!" Bellamy slammed out of his chair, and in a half dozen strides had invaded her personal space. "What the hell gives you the right to keep coming in here and reminding me about that night!"

"Bellamy," she said, truly bewildered at the pain she now saw in his face. "I don't understand..."

"Yeah? Well, maybe that's because you're so focused on your own trivial moment of embarrassment that it never occurred to you that something else might have happened that night."

"Something else...?"

"Yeah." He towered over her, his voice harsh, his arms wrapped around himself as if to ward off the impact of the next few words. "Like maybe me and Octavia rolling into the driveway all ready to string popcorn, only to find..." he paused then, and his eyes closed briefly.

"...only to find," he took a breath, as if to steady himself, "that there were police at our door waiting to tell us that our mother had been killed in a car crash on her way home from work."

Bellamy's voice trailed off, and the anger seemed to whoosh out of him all at once.

Clarke couldn't prevent her gasp of dismay.

"I'm so sorry. I had...no idea."

"No," he sighed, shifting away from her, sinking back into his chair. "It's...unlikely you would have heard. It was only on the news once."

Bellamy grunted out a humorless chuckle.

"After all, it was Christmas. Who the hell wants to spoil their holiday with news about fatal accidents involving inconsequential people?"

She couldn't imagine there was any good way to respond to that so she didn't even try.

"So... that's why Octavia didn't come back to school?"

He nodded. "There was no way I could afford the tuition. And Octavia was never much for school, anyway. She went to community college for a year, then she got into yoga and physical fitness."

"And does she hate Christmas, too?" Clarke asked softly. Somehow she couldn't imagine the ebullient Octavia changing that much, even after losing her mother so tragically.

Bellamy shrugged, his eyes flicking away from her. "We...might have had a difference of opinion about it. She lives on the coast these days. We don't...get together much anymore."

Clarke nodded, distressed. "That's too bad."

She turned to leave then, understanding at last why he had no interest in decorations. "And never mind about decorating the room," she murmured on her way out, but his voice stopped her at the door.

"No, you're right," he said quietly to her back. "The kids really love putting up all that shit." Bellamy sighed. "So... do anything you want, but just keep me out of it."

She nodded without turning, feeling her throat close on a sympathy she knew Bellamy Blake would not welcome. And felt sadder than she had since her father's death.

XXXXXXXXXX

The magnitude of Bellamy's tragedy hit her hard. He'd lost his mother and was estranged from the sister to whom he'd been so close. Sometimes, when family members drifted apart, the holidays provided a time to reconcile. But that was never going to happen as long as Bellamy refused to celebrate Christmas.

She'd never meant for it to become a thing, of course, but she couldn't seem to let the sadness go, and when Clarke was sad she drew.

In the past, she'd used her art project as her outlet, but that was finished now, sent off to what she hoped would be the next step. So when she pulled out her pencils this time she wasn't sure what was going to emerge beneath her fingers.

But a busy thirty minutes later, there he was. Santaman. Red and white hat perched jauntily atop his snowy head. Just exactly as Octavia had described all those years ago, on the night Bellamy tried hard never to remember and Clarke couldn't seem to forget. There was a small girl in the picture, too, one with long dark hair, who looked up into the sky as if wondering whether Santa would really find her after all.

Clarke spent all weekend on the drawing, adding details from her imagination. When it was finished she was overwhelmed with the need to pass it on to Bellamy. She knew it made little sense, but still, she couldn't help thinking that the picture might help him remember when Christmas was a happy time. When he built a snowman just to make sure his little sister still believed in Santa.

And maybe, if he remembered how it had been, he'd begin to feel it again. Even better, he'd begin to want to feel it again.

Clarke knew she couldn't just hand him the drawing. He already thought she was interfering and unfeeling, and he would certainly resent her clumsy attempts to infuse him with some holiday spirit.

But... why not just mail it to him? She had no idea of his home address, of course, but she could just send it to him at the school. Before she could think better of it, Clarke had found a large manila envelope, scribbled out his name and the school address, and dropped it in the mailbox at the mall.

And that was how it began.

XXXXXXXXXX

She was setting up her Christmas decoration workshop a few days later when a small blond head appeared around the edge of her doorway.

"Ms. Griffin! Guess what!?"

It was Charlotte, one of Bellamy's more exuberant fifth-graders. Charlotte, who really liked to draw, and had taken a shine to the new art teacher.

"Hey, Charlotte," Clarke smiled. The girl's obvious excitement was contagious. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Blake got this cool drawing in the mail yesterday. And he doesn't know where it came from or anything, but it really made him smile. And a lotta the kids liked it and wanted to copy it and he said that was okay. And...oh, yeah, this is what I really wanted to tell you. He's gonna let us decorate the room! He never lets his classes do Christmas. It's the only bad thing about having Mr. Blake. But he's gonna let us!"

"Great!" was all Clarke got out before Charlotte began to rattle on again.

"And you know what else, Ms. Griffin?" she said solemnly. "Mr. Blake put the picture up on the bulletin board and he kept kinda looking at it all day and..."

"You know, I think the bell's about to ring, Charlotte," Clarke interrupted, before girl to caught on to exactly how much this news was affecting her. "You'd better scoot back to class before Mr. Blake gets mad. And, Charlotte," she added, the girl pausing mid-flight. "It's really nice that Mr. Blake got something that made him happy. Thanks for telling me."

"Oh, yeah, no problem. I'll let you know right away if he gets any more," the girl promised conspiratorially before racing down the hall ahead of the last morning bell.

Clarke laughed to herself, noting that she'd better keep any information she wanted to stay private well away from that 10-year-old busybody.

And then Charlotte's last words sunk in.

More pictures? Well, the first one had clearly been a smash hit so...why the hell not?

After Charlotte's visit, Clarke's spirits soared so high that she decided to take the plunge in another area. Instead of hiding away in her room all day, when lunchtime rolled around she grabbed her insulated bag and headed to the faculty lounge.

As soon as she poked her head in the door, she was waved over by Harper McIntyre, the third-grade teacher.

"Well, finally!" Harper said with a friendly smile. "I was beginning to think we were going to have to drag you out of that room. You need to learn to take breaks."

Clarke laughed. "I can definitely get a little too focused," she admitted.

Clarke had no sooner settled herself next to Harper when she glanced across the room and found herself looking straight into the eyes of Mr. Bellamy Blake, who apparently ate his lunch at this time, too. He acknowledged her presence with the tiniest of nods, but his eyes were friendly.

"Well, what do you know?" Harper said with a sly grin. "You seem to have caught the eye of the elusive Mr. Blake."

"What? Oh. Um, why...elusive?"

"Because it seems like everyone around here has hit on him without any luck. Except for me, of course," she added with a smile. "Monty and I have been together since college."

As she opened her bag and pulled out her salad, Clarke was certain she projected a total lack of interest in Mr. Blake's blanket rejection of all romantic overtures, but when Harper continued the subject, she wasn't so sure.

"You've met Echo North, the PE teacher, right? She's been trying get with Bellamy for at least two years now, with zero success. But then you turn up, and in only a couple weeks..."

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Clarke interrupted quickly, not wanting to give her new friend the wrong idea. "I knew Bellamy slightly in college. Through his sister," she explained as briefly as possible.

Clarke was startled when only a few seconds later the subject of this conversation drifted by on his way out of the room and stopped uncertainly next to their table.

Harper hurriedly gathered the remnants of her lunch. "I've got a couple things to do before the kids get back," she said, and was gone before Clarke could think of a way to stop her.

When Bellamy continued to hover awkwardly, Clarke took pity on hm.

"Have a seat," she invited, and he dropped down across from her, his expression uncertain.

"Look, Clarke," he began tentatively, "I just...I wanted to say that I know I've been kind of an asshole to you."

She shrugged. "It's okay. I was poking my nose into something... painful, even though I didn't realize it."

"It's not okay. You had something you wanted to say and I should have just let you say it."

He scanned the room before he continued, and Clarke assumed he was assuring himself they wouldn't be overheard.

"The truth is that after what... happened with my mom, I really just didn't remember much about the trip home. I remember you, of course, and that I was pissed when I dropped you off, but I can't even recall why. I'm sure it was something stupid. But still, none of that gave me the right to jump all over you."

"Listen, Bellamy, why don't we just...put it behind us?" she suggested lightly. "Start again."

When he smiled, it was the first real glimpse she'd seen of that other Bellamy, the hot older guy who'd kept grinning at her in the rear-view mirror.

"Works for me," he said, looking equal parts happy and relieved.

"Your kids are very excited about decorating," Clarke told him, deliberately changing the subject.

"Yeah, tell me about it!" he laughed. "I don't know if I'm going to actually make it through December. But...I'm glad you made me rethink that. In fact," he added softly, "I'm glad you came to work here, period."

"Me, too," she said, her smile growing.

"So...friends?"

"Definitely," she agreed, feeling more lighthearted than she had in weeks.

XXXXXXXXXX

After that day, it became a pattern. Or rather, two patterns. One at school, the other back at her apartment.

Every day, Clarke would get to the lunchroom early and Bellamy would join her and whoever else happened to be sitting there. They were "lunchroom buddies" and occasional "chat in the hall" buddies. But it never went beyond that.

Not that that held any weight with Harper McIntyre.

"I just love teacher romances," she sighed dramatically, teasing Clarke one day when they were the first two at the lunch table.

"There's no romance happening," Clarke muttered quickly, seeing Bellamy just coming through the door.

"Not yet," Harper stage-whispered, getting in the last word.

Not, she thought, that Harper was necessarily wrong. Against all the odds, it seemed that the spark that had flared between Clarke and Bellamy on that snowy Christmas Eve so many years ago had never completely gone out. Either that, or whatever had drawn them together in the first place was working its magic again.

Because as much as she loved teaching, Clarke couldn't deny that lunch had quickly become her favorite half-hour of the day. No matter who else was sitting there, or how general the discussion was in the beginning, she and Bellamy somehow always ended up having their own light-hearted conversation. And they were always the last two out of the lunchroom.

When Bellamy brought his kids down for art class in Friday afternoons, her heart would beat in wild anticipation until she saw him in the doorway. And even though they never exchanged a single unprofessional word in front of the kids, the perceptive ten-year-olds seemed to sense their growing connection, giggling as they glanced back and forth between them.

As if they knew instinctively that something was going on, even if they didn't know exactly what that was.

Not that Clarke knew either, but she figured she had plenty of time to find out.

Later, when she got home to her cozy apartment, out came her sketch book and pencils as further depictions of the Blake Christmas traditions began to take shape beneath her nimble fingers But this time Clarke wasn't drawing out of sadness, or as a distraction, but out of joy and friendship and maybe something else she wasn't certain she could name.

She drew the snow angels next. There were no people in this drawing, only the impressions they'd left in the snow, one very much larger than the other. The corner of a house could be seen faintly in the background, while the moonlight played across the pattern of heavenly wings and halos that sat silent and frozen in the snowy yard.

That one was no sooner mailed than she moved indoors and began on the Christmas tree. Zig-zagging strings of smooth red berries and misshapen popcorn were the tree's only adornment except for a glowing star that sat at the very top. Two figures, male and female, small and very small, sat facing the tree, legs crossed in front of them as they stared up at the star.

Elf juice was the challenge she wasn't sure how to meet until after several days of deliberation she chose a more whimsical approach. Clarke had a big grin on her face as she drew a very annoyed-looking Santa waiting impatiently beside the red- and white-striped tree while his naughty elves drank from enormous bottles. She giggled when she added a third elf trying to wrestle a bottle for himself.

As each drawing was showed up at the school, she would immediately hear about how much Mr. Blake had smiled before he tacked up on the bulletin board. And now, it wasn't only Charlotte who was intrigued. Now it was the entire class that had become caught up in the mystery of Mr. Blake's Christmas drawings.

As Clarke stepped out of her car the morning after the "elf juice" drawing arrived, a dozen kids from Bellamy's class accosted her, all clamoring for her attention.

Naturally, it was Charlotte who got her oar in first.

"The pictures have something to do with when he was a kid," she announced with an air of importance, and Clarke was not at all surprised to find that it was Charlotte who had wormed that much out of him. "Something to do with his sister," she added, "so maybe that's why they all make him smile so much."

"Maybe," Clarke shrugged as off-handedly as possible.

"I didn't even know Mr. Blake had a sister," Charlotte lamented, as though by not having that nugget of information already in her possession she'd somehow fallen down on the job.

"You should come up and see the pictures, Ms. Griffin," one of the boys added. "They're really cool."

"I'll try," she said smoothly, hating to lie to these innocent kids, but unsure whether she could actually visit her creations without somehow giving in to the temptation to claim them as her own work. She'd have to tell Bellamy sometime, of course, but she couldn't see that there was any real rush.

With only a little over a week left until Christmas, the faculty party was scheduled for the following Thursday, with the following day the last half-day of school before the break. A bunch of them were having lunch early that week when Harper brought up the party with Clarke.

And Harper did not believe in beating around the bush.

"So, Clarke, are you going to the Christmas party?"

The question was so unexpected, and so direct, that Clarke was caught off-guard and left scrambling for a neutral response.

She'd heard about the party, of course. She'd even wondered if maybe... someone... might invite her. But that hadn't happened, and she wasn't sure if it was more a couples thing and if she might feel uncomfortable going without a date.

"Uh, I'm not sure," she said tentatively, acutely aware of Bellamy sitting on her other side.

"You should go," he spoke up suddenly, startling her. "It'll be fun."

That brought a guffaw from across the table.

"Don't tell me you're going, Blake."

Nate Miller, the other fifth-grade teacher tossed out the remark with patent disbelief. "That would be a first."

Bellamy shrugged. "I thought I might," he said casually, looking at no one in particular.

Clarke had no time to ponder his response as they all suddenly became aware of the time and there was a hurried exodus from the room.

"You're going, Clarke," Harper insisted amidst the general hubbub of the rush back to their classrooms. "Monty and I will pick you up, so text me your address. And we usually dress up a little, so wear something... nice," she added, her eyes glinting with mischief.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Clarke got home from school that Thursday afternoon, something happened that almost - but not quite - swept her anxiety about the faculty party completely out of her head.

It had been so long since she'd sent off the snapshots and the one prototype, and any positive response had seemed so unlikely, that just at first she couldn't imagine why she had a hefty-looking manila envelope in her mailbox. And even when she'd opened it, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

Fuck! It was a contract. Someone actually wanted to buy her work!

The project had taken her years to complete and while recognition had always been the dream, she'd never really thought it would happen. It had only been the abundance of leisure time she'd had that fall that had allowed her to even finish the thing. And her mother's support that had encouraged her to send it off.

She grabbed for her phone and miraculously caught Abby on a break.

"Mom! You'll never believe it! They want my cards. I just got a contract in the mail."

"Clarke! That's fantastic. Come on over later, we'll celebrate. Marcus is coming, but you can join us. Or... I can put him off..."

"Can't tonight, Mom," Clarke said quickly. "I've got the faculty party."

"That's right. Marcus mentioned it."

"He's not going?" Clarke was surprised.

Abby laughed. "Oh, he'll put in a token appearance early, but then he's taking me out to dinner. He says no one can have fun at a party with the boss around."

Clarke had come to admire Marcus Kane and wasn't surprised that he was so understanding. She was perceptive enough herself to realize that in the past couple of months Kane had become more than just a friend to her mother. And that soon she'd probably have to learn to deal with the man on two separate levels: as her boss and as her mother's boyfriend.

Surprisingly, she thought she might be okay with that.

"Do you mind if I show Marcus your prototypes, Clarke?" Abby asked excitedly. "I think they're still here in the house, aren't they? And I know he'll be thrilled for you."

Clarke shrugged inwardly. She couldn't think of a single reason why he shouldn't see them.

"Sure, Mom. But I hope you and Mr. Kane have more interesting topics of conversation than me and my work," she added coyly.

Abby cleared her throat but made no reply, and Clarke grinned into the phone.

"Gotta go, Mom. Still deciding what to wear."

"Right. Congratulations, Clarke. And...wear that red dress."

Clarke was laughing as she ended the call. As always, her mother had an opinion on everything. But maybe... this time...

The red sheath dress was in the back of her closet and as she pulled it out, she couldn't help thinking if she wore it how much she wouldn't look like the art teacher who appeared every day in clothes that were modest, practical, and most importantly, washable.

What the hell? She might as well try to knock his... er, their... socks off.

The party was being held in the function rooms of one of Ark City's nicest restaurants, and as soon as she walked in and saw everyone she was glad she'd decided on the red dress. The younger women especially had pulled out all the stops

Echo North, for instance, was wearing a black body-fitting number with a neckline so plunging that Clarke hoped she'd remembered the double-sided body tape. She was sitting at the bar, doing her best to show off her assets to a man sitting next to her. A man who, as it happened, was Bellamy Blake.

Clarke gasped and turned away, suddenly recalling Harper's tale of Echo's interest in Bellamy and wondering just how long it might take to get an Uber, when she heard a deep voice right next to her.

"You came," he said, and there was no hiding the happy smile on his face. His eyes swept her up and down in a way that was flattering rather than offensive. "You look beautiful."

Clarke could feel herself flushing with pleasure.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked. "Maybe we should try to find a table."

Bellamy stopped suddenly and smiled ruefully.

"I'm sorry, Clarke. Of course you don't have to sit with me...or even drink with me..."

Clarke put her hand on his arm. "No, it's okay. I want to do both of those things."

They stared at each other for a moment in silence until finally Bellamy sighed.

"I should have just asked you to be my date," he said, smiling his crooked little smile. The one that did things to her insides.

"Yeah," she said, "you should have. Why didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I guess I didn't want our first date to be in front of everyone we work with."

Clarke sucked in a breath. "But you did want there to be a date?"

"I was working up to it," he said sheepishly. "Assuming you could get past what a dick I was to you in the beginning."

"I got past it a long time ago." She smiled and looped her arm through his. "Let's get those drinks."

Later, as they sat to eat at the big round banquet tables, Harper poked her in the ribs.

"See?" She murmured with a sly grin. "I told you there was a teacher romance on the horizon."

The rest of the night passed by in a happy blur - not counting the dirty looks from the PE teacher. In fact, Clarke was almost thinking it might qualify as one of the best nights of her life.

Harper and Monty had already left, and she and Bellamy were sitting at a quiet table having what they'd decided had to be their final drink, when in an instant everything turned upside down.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you about," Bellamy said suddenly, an excited look on his face. "You remember how I said that Octavia and I were kind of...estranged? Well, I think she wants to change that."

"That's great," she said, really hoping it was true. "What makes you think that?"

"Well...because I'm pretty sure she's been sending me pictures. Of things from our childhood at Christmas."

And right then, Clarke began to feel an icy finger on her spine.

"Pictures?" she said faintly. "Uh, does Octavia draw?"

"No," he said, the smile never leaving his face. "But I seem to remember her boyfriend does. And I mean, who else could it be?"

And that was the moment. Right fucking then. The moment that Clarke knew she needed to come clean. Fess up. Tell him that she had drawn those pictures, not Octavia's boyfriend. She should tell the truth, own up to the entire scheme...and crush Bellamy's hopes to dust.

She couldn't do it.

"So I called her," he said happily, as Clarke sat there frozen with pain and guilt.

"Oh, and...what did she say?"

"She wasn't there so I left a message. Told her I knew it was her sending the pictures. That...I loved her. And that I thought we should talk."

Clarke stared at him so long that finally he asked worriedly, "Should I... not have done that?"

"No! Of course you should have. Somebody needs to make the, uh... a move or it will never get resolved." She sighed. "I think I'm just tired. Not used to these late nights."

"Come on, Cinderella," he chuckled, "let's get you home."

Clarke was quiet on the way back to her place, but Bellamy didn't remark on it and she hoped he'd put it down to fatigue. He walked her to her door, and then he stood there for a moment staring at the ground. She'd opened her mouth to thank him for the ride when he looked up at her, reached for her hand, and finally began to speak.

"I haven't been this happy in a long time, Clarke. Or ever fallen for someone this fast. It's...a little scary." Bellamy took a deep breath. "I know this wasn't even really a date, but..."

"Shut up," she murmured, wrapping an arm around his neck and tugging him down to her. She was so happy, and at the same time fearful that she might never get this chance again.

The kiss sent shock waves through her from the moment their lips met. Bellamy moaned and wrapped her tightly in his arms, deepening the kiss. When she felt the slide of his tongue against her own, she suddenly knew that if she didn't pull away right then she wasn't going to be able to at all.

"Clarke," Bellamy breathed into her ear and wrapped his fingers in her hair. "I've been wanting to do that for such a long time now."

"Me, too," she said, clutching her hands together as she wrapped them tightly around his waist.

They stood there for a moment until finally Bellamy sighed snd pulled away, giving her a brief sweet kiss.

"I think I have just enough energy left to drive home," he smiled. "If I wait any longer, I'm afraid I'll fall asleep at the first red light."

Clarke laughed and pushed him down the walk. "Text me to let me know you made it home okay."

Bellamy saluted, grinning at her the whole way as he walked backwards down the walkway toward his car, somehow managing not to trip over his feet in the dark. When he at last drove off after a final wave, Clarke slipped inside her apartment.

She crawled into bed both thrilled and alarmed. Thrilled with how she and Bellamy obviously felt about each other. Alarmed that if she couldn't explain about the pictures properly, they'd never get the chance to explore those feelings.

She drifted off to sleep, grateful that at least she knew what he was thinking. Certain that she'd find a way to figure it all out.

XXXXXXXXXX

Despite the rather late night and consequent lack of sleep, Clarke was up in the morning at her usual time, only a little the worse for wear. Although she tried hard, she couldn't really convince herself that her eagerness to get to school had everything to do with wishing the students she loved a Merry Christmas, and nothing at all to do with being desperate to see Bellamy's face again.

His assumptions about the drawings still weighed heavily on her and she knew she had to make that right as soon as possible. But, dammit! She'd only been trying to cheer him up, and never dreamed he'd think the pictures came from Octavia.

Clarke didn't have any regular classes that day. The kids would all remain in their regular classrooms for the half-day while their teachers tried to impart a some learning into their excited little brains. But she knew some of the students would stop by to visit, and more than a few had Christmas projects that they needed to collect from her room.

There was a notice in her message box about a short faculty meeting in the teachers' lounge at noon after the kids left. Clarke couldn't imagine what Mr. Kane was thinking, calling a meeting at the last moment before the break, but maybe he just wanted to wish them a happy holiday in person. In any case, the word short had been underlined, bolded, and capitalized, so she was pretty sure the principal was aware his staff would be itching to leave.

She hadn't been in her room more than a minute when Bellamy appeared in her doorway.

"Hey," he said, grinning from ear to ear, arms crossed as he leaned against the jamb.

"Hey," she responded as calmly as possible, but smiling just as broadly. She forced herself to stay at her worktable, when what she really wanted was to run across the room, lock the door, and engage in some very inappropriate behavior.

"Do you know anything about this faculty meeting?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not a clue."

"Okay. Well, after the meeting...would you want to go out and grab some lunch with me?"

"I'd love to," she said happily.

Bellamy nodded, "Good. See ya later." He had to hurry off then so his kids wouldn't get to their classroom and find it empty.

Yes! This could work. She had all morning to figure out a way to confess that she'd drawn the Christmas pictures, and an entire lunch to make him understand why she'd done it. She knew he might be disappointed, but it didn't have to mean the end of his hopes for a reconciliation with Octavia. Clarke could help him figure that out, too.

Clarke sighed. The main thing was that he understand how much those drawings had come from a place of... affection.

The morning flew by and the dismissal bell surprised her in the middle of straightening out her cupboards. She finished as quickly as possible, grabbed for her coat, and hurried up the stairs to the faculty lounge. Still, when she arrived, she found that most of her colleagues had beaten her to it.

Bellamy saw her in the doorway and waved her over with a smile.

"Ah," Principal Kane said. "I see that Ms. Griffin has arrived. We couldn't have this meeting without her."

Bellamy raised his brows at her, but Clarke just shrugged. She had no idea what was going on.

"I did want to wish you all a Merry Christmas," Kane told the group, "but I also wanted to get you all together for just a very quick moment so that we could offer our congratulations to one of our own, the newest member of our staff, Clarke Griffin."

Again, Bellamy looked at her quizzically, and it was at that moment, at that exact precise moment, that she suddenly knew what was coming.

No, no, no! But the scream was only in her head.

When she saw Marcus Kane raise her box of prototypes aloft, she knew it was already far too late.

"Clarke," Kane told them happily, blissfully unaware of her distress, "has been working on a special art project for a number of years now. What I have in my hand is an exceptional set of hand-drawn Christmas cards. Each card is based on a different Christmas carol, but what makes them unique is that the text and sketch for each card is based on the last verse of each carol. In fact, the cards are called "The Last Verse Collection."

The principal nodded at Clarke cheerfully, while she stood frozen, unable to look at anyone, and most especially not at Bellamy Blake, who had gone quite still beside her.

"The cards are very beautiful," Kane continued, "and I'm not the only one who thinks so. I know Clarke would too modest to tell you this herself, but she's just heard from a greeting card company and they want to print her cards. So next year, you'll be able to find them at every mall in the country. Please come up and take a look at the prototypes before you leave. And have a nice holiday, everyone!"

When he was finally done, Clarke understood for the first time in her life the desire to be swallowed up by the earth.

Harper grabbed her for a quick hug.

"Way to go, Clarke," she smiled excitedly. "Have a great Christmas."

Others waved or yelled congrats, all sincerely meant, Clarke was sure, but she was simply incapable of responding with anything more than a grim smile. While beside her Bellamy had still not uttered a single word.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move. Over to the table where Kane had left the damning cards, a labor of love that she'd worked on for the better part of five years. She watched as he examined them one by one, handling each card gingerly as though it might explode in his face.

She was watching so carefully, in fact, that she saw everything that was going on in Bellamy's head play out across his features. It took him only a few second to make the connections.

The snowy journey where she'd heard all about the Blake family Christmas traditions, including the last verse carols.

The artwork on the cards and how it matched up perfectly with his mystery Christmas drawings. Her distinctive style, the use of line and shading and color, was damning evidence indeed.

And then she saw it. The precise moment he realized the pictures hadn't come from Octavia after all.

He turned toward her then, and for just an instant his face was a muddled map of hurt and disappointment and silent accusation. Until the dreaded mask descended and he hurtled out the door and down the hall.

Clarke raced after him, but he was bigger and stronger and had a much longer stride. So it was only by some miracle that she caught up with him as he was unlocking his car door.

"Bellamy, wait! Please don't leave like this. I can explain."

He whirled on her. "What are you going to explain, Clarke? That your project for the last however many years was to make a mockery of the Christmas traditions of the idiotic Blakes?"

"I wasn't mocking you, Bellamy! I thought it was such a wonderful idea that I wanted to memorialize it. And... I couldn't find you or I would have told you both about it a long time ago. I honestly thought Octavia would love them!"

Her voice was pleading as she begged him to understand.

"I never thought I'd see either one of you again. Although I wanted to. Desperately."

"And what about the pictures, Clarke? Was I just another project to you, too?"

"You know you weren't!" Clarkes was so frustrated she felt like stamping her foot. "I just...I thought you'd like them. Like to be reminded of when you loved Christmas. And you did! Your kids came down every day and told me as much..."

"My kids? Were they in on it? The rehabilitation of that grinch, Mr. Blake?" He sounded appalled.

"Of course not! No one knew but me. And I was going to tell you..."

"When!? When were you going to tell me? I've already made an idiot of myself with my sister. She must think I've gone fucking nuts, leaving her a message about mystery pictures. No doubt she's damn glad she doesn't have to put up with her crazy brother."

"Today! I was going to tell you today at lunch! Please, Bellamy."

"Yeah? You know what, I don't think I'm feeling very hungry. Must be all that humiliation I've had to swallow."

"Bellamy," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. Honestly I am."

"Right," he said. "Maybe you are. But somehow that doesn't make me feel like any less of a fool."

"Okay," she said, swallowing hard, as he finally opened the door and stepped into his car. "Maybe you can't forgive me for not telling you. I get that. But I was never mocking you. You or Octavia. And you were never any kind of...of project to me."

Clarke took a deep breath.

"I liked you," she said quietly. "So much. I...still do."

And that was it. That was all she could take. She didn't want to fall apart in front of him.

She turned and ran then, heading straight for her car which was fortunately parked at the far end of the lot. She barely made it inside, slamming the door behind her, congratulating herself that she'd managed to hold it in for so long, although her eyes were stinging and her throat closing.

She somehow made it home where she threw herself on the bed, curling into a ball and asking herself over and over how her life could have gone so quickly from utter happiness to abject despair.

XXXXXXXXXX

Clarke should have known that if she continued to ignore her mother's calls and texts Abby would eventually appear at her door. Sooner rather than later.

It was a mere twenty-four hours before she heard Abby's key in the door. Clarke tried to tell herself that her mother had no right, that the key was only for emergencies, but when she saw the worried look on Abby's face, she didn't have the heart.

"What's going on, Clarke?" her mother asked, gingerly picking up dirty clothes from the floor and depositing them in the hamper.

"Nothing." Clarke burrowed more deeply into the quilt she'd wrapped around herself as she sat on the couch bingeing on Netflix and wolfing down the steady diet of junk food that had constituted her last several meals. "Just leave everything, Mom."

"Leave you like this two days before Christmas with no explanation? I don't think so."

"I don't want to talk about it," Clarke muttered, grabbing for the half-empty bag of Tostitos that her mother had just cleared from the coffee table.

"Okay," Abby nodded. "That's your right and I won't pry. But I'm not leaving you here. So take a shower and grab some clothes while I clean up this place. Whatever the problem is, you can wallow in it clean just as easily as dirty. And eat something other than..." the revulsion in her face said it all, "...corn chips."

In the end, it was easier to just go along. Abby's seniority had allowed her to take off as much time as she wanted from the hospital so Clarke had already planned to spend both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her mother. Why not just go a day early?

And once she got to her mother's house, a place where there were no hand-drawn Christmas cards from the kids or piles of art supplies ready for the new year - nothing, really, to remind her of school - she thought she might be able make it through the holiday.

Clarke knew she'd screwed up. She'd learned long ago that neither secrets nor lies of omission ever led to a good outcome. But why couldn't Bellamy see that her intentions had been good? That had to count for something! Still, it was clear he felt betrayed, and that made her feel worse than anything.

So despite being clean and well-fed, her tired brain still couldn't seem to let it all go, until finally she simply collapsed out of sheer exhaustion. They'd barely lit the tree on Christmas Eve, when Clarke dragged herself off to bed.

But by the time she and Abby were eating their traditional Christmas morning breakfast of baked omelets and fresh fruit, the hours of sleep had refreshed her. Clarke decided she was back on top of things. Well on her way, in fact, to getting over Bellamy Blake.

Hell, she reminded herself, they hadn't even been dating! Their entire relationship had consisted of a lot of conversation... and one very hot kiss. And now she had more than a week to hide away at her mom's while she figured it out. By the time she got back to school it would all be fine. She was certain of it.

So Clarke was calm and sure and in control...right up until the moment the doorbell rang and she suddenly recalled that Marcus Kane was coming for Christmas dinner. Her mother had asked her about it weeks ago, and Clarke had assured her she didn't mind sharing Christmas with her boss.

At first, it seemed like she might make it through the meal without a problem. The roast beef came and went and Clarke even managed to eat some of it. But then Mr. Kane once again complimented her on the Christmas cards. And soon Abby was talking proudly about the years of work she'd put into them, how beautiful they were, how original...

Clarke didn't even feel herself moving until she was on her feet, pushing her chair in, rounding on her mother, setting her straight.

"The idea was original, mom, just... not with me. It was a girl named Octavia Blake."

And suddenly, she couldn't manage it even one second longer.

Couldn't sit there eating placidly Christmas dinner. Couldn't pretend that just because she and Bellamy hadn't actually been dating she wasn't still absolutely crazy about him. Or devastated by what had happened between them. Or just, in general, a miserable fucking mess.

"I'm... sorry, Mom...Mr. Kane. I've gotta go home."

Her mother's face was a study in confusion so it wasn't surprising that she'd be looking for answers. As Clarke was leaving the room, she heard Abby's quiet question.

"Do you have any idea what this might be about, Marcus?"

Clarke had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard his equally quiet reply.

"I...can't be sure, but... Abby, have I ever happened to mention one of my most brilliant young teachers, Bellamy Blake?"

Shit! Even her boss knew. Clarke threw her belongings into a bag and flew down the stairs and out the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was full dark by the time she got home, so just at first she didn't see him sitting there on her doorstep. Until he rose and approached. Until he spoke

"Clarke! Thank god! I didn't know what the hell to try next."

"Bellamy! What-what are you doing here? What've you been trying to do?"

"I've been trying to find you. For more than two fucking days! Why the hell did we never exchange numbers? Not," his tone was rueful, "that you'd probably have accepted my calls, anyway."

"Why were you trying to find me, Bellamy? What's wrong?"

They were close now, standing in the moonlight no more than a couple of feet apart.

"Everything's wrong," he said quietly. "I've made a mess of it all."

Clarke huffed out a laugh. "No, that was me, remember? I'm the one who sent you pictures without telling you they were from me, and then I used your family's traditions..."

But he was already shaking his head

"You did something nice for me, something... thoughtful. And it didn't take me much time at all to figure out I'd got it all wrong. I pretty much knew what a jackass I'd been before I even left the school parking lot. I hardly slept Friday night, and by the time I worked up the guts to talk to you on Saturday, you weren't here. I waited a long time, but you never came home. So then yesterday, I tried to remember where your mother lived, and in my head it was all just big house, huge fucking wreath..."

Clarke frowned. "Mom hasn't bothered with the wreath since my dad died." Then her eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait! Did you actually go to West Ark?"

"Yep." His expression in the moonlight was sheepish. "I drove around trying to recognize the house, or find your car..."

"It was in the garage."

"Yeah, well obviously I wasn't successful, so I finally just decided to come back here this morning and wait for you."

Clarke was flabbergasted. "This morning? You've been waiting here all day? What if I hadn't shown up today?"

"I guess I'd have been back tomorrow. Or maybe tried to figure out who might have your number. I don't know."

"Bellamy," she said, trying to take it all in, "you could have just waited until we got back to school..."

"No, I couldn't. You needed an apology right away. So I'm giving it. I'm sorry, Clarke. I acted like a jerk."

"I'm sorry, too, Bellamy. Especially for getting your hopes up about Octavia."

He smiled his funny little half-smile. "Strangest thing. While I was sitting here waiting, O called." His smile became wry. "Said she didn't know anything about any pictures but she wanted to see me, too."

Clarke was elated. "Bellamy, I'm so happy for you. When you see Octavia, please give her my best." She grinned. "And thank her for the great idea."

He nodded and for a moment they just stared at each other, and then Clarke sighed.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"Now? Well, I found you, I apologized, so I guess it's up to you whether you want to accept my apology..."

"No, I meant right now..."

And that's when she noticed it, the shiny thing that must have been hanging from his hand all along.

"What's that in your hand?"

"What...this?" Bellamy held up a glittering gold star on a string, clearly a Christmas tree ornament. He smiled at her. "I guess you could say that's my...last verse good-luck charm. I've been carrying it around, hoping it will get me what I wish for."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Clarke desperately wanted to hear that it was the same thing she'd been wishing for ever since she found him on her doorstep.

"That maybe you'll do more than just accept my apology." Bellamy paused, closing his eyes briefly and huffing out a deep breath. "That maybe we could go back to the way things were the other night. After the party. Before I lost my mind."

Clarke smiled at him then, and her heart began to hammer in her chest. "And what does the star have to do with that?"

Bellamy moved closer still and held the star above her head. But the last thing she expected was that he'd begin to sing.

"Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough..."

Clarke laughed softly and reached her hand up to place two fingers against his lips.

"Who ever told you you could sing?" she asked, and her eyes glittered at him in the moonlight.

"Clarke," Bellamy barely breathed her name. He grasped her fingers and kissed the palm of her hand. "I am so fucking gone on you."

"You know, I'm getting cold out here," she said softly. "I think we should move this conversation inside."

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice fond, and although she knew the question was rhetorical, she answered it anyway.

"Yeah," she nodded, her heart singing. "I've got a very tall tree that I really want you to hang that star on."