AN: Warning- this is going to be a very long chapter. I mean, extremely long.
Bellamy
"Octavia, it's not like that, okay?" I said sternly into the phone, pacing the hospital hallway.
"Please explain to me how it isn't like that! Bellamy, you don't have to be the good guy here. She doesn't even deserve a good guy. She's a druggie," Octavia snapped back. Her voice was hard and demanding. I could tell she was pissed, but I tried not to let it bother me.
"Yeah, she is a druggie, which is exactly why she needs help. She's been going through withdrawals, O. She had a seizure and… and she can't think straight and-"
"And it's not your problem," Octavia interrupted harshly. "Bellamy, use some logic here. People tried to help mom, didn't they? You saw where that led them. I don't even understand why you're so concerned about her. Of all people- her. Do you remember what she did?"
"Of course I remember," I said, taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself. How could I forget? Although I knew Octavia was right, I couldn't bring myself to abandon her. Not yet, anyway. It had been five days so far. The third day was the worst. She was in pain. She would be completely coherent and then not know who I was or what had happened. Yesterday she had improved. Today she acted somewhat normal. Rude, but normal. "Look, she has no one else. I can't just leave her."
"She did that to herself."
"Fine, O. I'll stay with her until she's discharged. And then after that, she'll have to figure it out," I said, trying to settle somewhat of a compromise to get her off my back.
"Fine. But Bellamy?"
"Yeah?"
"Please be careful this time."
"I will," I told her, hanging up the phone. I knew what she meant, but I couldn't bring myself to admit it. Octavia was right, after all. There wasn't a rationale in this world for me staying with her. I'm not even sure that Clarke wants me here. One minute she screams at me to go, and as I get my things she grabs my hand and asks me not to leave. I don't think she really wants me here. I think she just doesn't want to be alone. But that's okay, because I'm not sure I want to be there for her. I'm not ready to forgive her. But I am sure I don't want her to be lonely. I would want someone to stay with me.
I turned and walked back into the fourth level room. Clarke looked up at me, her face emotionless.
"You know you don't have to stay?" She asked for the tenth time, her eyes searching me up and down.
"I know, but do you want me to?" I asked back, stepping closer. Clarke just shrugged.
"I want Murphy to," She explained, her eyes meeting mine. I pursed my lips, sitting in the chair positioned by her bed.
"I know," I said, nodding. "But he's not here. So it's me or nothing."
"Well you've already sat down," She whispered, turning her attention back to the TV mounted on the wall in front of her bed. I smiled slightly, sitting back in the chair. We haven't mentioned the fight to each other. The little we have spoken, she's been out of it. At first it was the PCP. Now it's primarily the morphine. Some words she spoke with venom, others were softer and more welcoming. I wondered if her emotions were as chaotic as mine. If maybe she was having a hard time sorting through her thoughts. It was unlikely though. She'd obviously moved on. She probably thought nothing of it, that it was a stupid teenage thing. I looked up at her, staring intently at the TV.
"How are you feeling?" I eventually asked, clenching my hands as I did so.
"Sober," Clarke responded with a small laugh. After seeing my slight look of disdain, she added, "But good. I'm okay."
"You're lucky," I said, and she nodded. As she did so, a nurse walked in, pulling a big cart with her. She was one of the normal ones, 5'3 with blonde hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Clarke's doctor followed her in.
"Ms. Griffin," Dr. Pausi said, walking over to her bedside. "I'm just making my morning rounds. How are you feeling?"
"Okay," Clarke answered, not meeting him in the eye.
"Do you mind if I take a look at the wound to see how it's healing?" Dr. Pausi asked, setting his clipboard on the cart next to the nurse. Clarke nodded, gripping the bed to sit up some. I saw a flinch of pain cross her face as she adjusted some. Dr. Pausi looked over at me before he continued. "Do you need to step out?"
"No," Clarke answered before I had a chance to. "He's okay,"
I looked at her in confusion, not understanding why she wanted me to stay. Typically, I was already gone when the doctors made their nightly rounds. I was at work, or at home getting ready to go to work. It was my day off, however. Instead of enjoying myself, I came to the hospital. At Dr. Pausi's request, Clarke turned in the bed, using the rails to help her stand. Once she was stabilized, the pained expression on her face disappeared. The doctor separated her hospital gown, exposing the wound and her back. I tried to look away, but caught a glimpse of her back as I did so. There was gauze covering the wound, but the rest of her back had cuts and bruised welps.
"Is that from the gunshot?" I asked, already knowing the answer. There was no way that the shot caused that. The bruises varied in color and size, as did the welps.
"No," Dr. Pausi said, looking at Clarke as he said so. "Clarke, you can be honest with us."
"It doesn't matter," Clarke said sternly, shooting me a harsh look. Her lip was healed, and the dark blue that had surrounded her eye had receded and turned yellow. By her expression, I could tell she was angry at me for mentioning it.
"Well, the wound is healed as expected. There is no infection. I think you may be able to go home tomorrow," He said, closing her gown. She nodded, frowning at his words. Dr. Pausi looked at me and then back down at Clarke. "I will come by tomorrow and certify that everything is ready for discharge. I would suggest taking a walk to see how far you can get." With that, Dr. Pausi and the nurse left, shutting the room door behind them. As soon as I heard the click of the door shutting, I leaned forward.
"What happened?" I said, more sternly than before. It was obvious she was hiding something from everyone.
"Like I said, it doesn't matter," Clarke answered calmly, looking down, still gripping the bed posts.
"It does," I responded quickly, just as stern as before. "Who did that to you? Was it Murphy?"
"No! I mean… look, it's none of your business, Bellamy, I can take care of myself," Clarke said, her voice more hard this time. She looked up at me, taking a deep breath.
"You can barely stand, Clarke, look at you! You need someone."
"Maybe I do," Clarke said. "But it's not you. I haven't needed you for five years, okay? I did fine on my own. I didn't need you then, and I don't need you now!" She hissed, the attitude coming back, although she had a point.
"Then I'll leave," I said quietly, backing away from her. I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my temper at bay. I didn't need her attitude. I didn't even need to be here. I grabbed my phone out of the chair, tucking it in my pocket and turning towards the door.
"Wait," I heard Clarke whisper behind me. I turned around, frowning, my eyes piercing her. "I don't need you, but I do need someone. And right now, you're the only someone I have."
Her voice was small, quiet, weak. So different than how she used to speak. As I turned around to face her, I saw her tiny body still grasping onto the bed. Her eyes were distant, as if they were looking off into another world. All of a sudden, I felt the anger in me subside and be replaced with something entirely different. Clarke was vulnerable. She was so skinny, I wondered when the last time she had a good meal was. I walked back over to her, towering over her, about a foot away.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go for a walk."
The Next Day
I awoke in my bed at 9:30, to the sound of my phone buzzing. I sat up, wiping my eyes, grabbing my phone. Octavia had texted me.
Are you home for good yet?
I rolled my eyes, jerking the blankets off of me. I didn't understand why it mattered so much to her. I knew that Clarke and she had a falling out, and I assumed it was just because of the drugs. Normally Octavia wasn't so involved in my life, and it made no sense to me why she was suddenly concerned. I didn't text her back. Instead, I stood up and walked to the bathroom. I quickly showered and got dressed, choosing to skip over breakfast. I wasn't all that hungry, especially in the mornings. I remembered today, how Clarke was supposed to be discharged. She seemed well yesterday. We went for a walk, although an incredibly silent one. I was beside her, to offer support when needed. She often had to take breaks, about every five minutes or so, but she was growing stronger. We walked around the hospital and outside. After a good thirty minutes, I could tell she was in pain. After coming back to her room, I had headed home.
I now found myself grabbing my keys off the counter. The hospital was a much farther walk than the office, so I chose to drive rather than walk. I locked the apartment door and walked downstairs to the main lobby. I waved to the lady walking her dog, and slipped into my black 2010 GT Mustang. I had saved for it for years, owning one had always been a dream of mine. When I got hired on as a manager/editor at the Detroit Times, I finally brought in enough to get one. I turned the ignition, smiling as the engine purred to life. Putting her in drive, I pulled out and drove quickly down the streets, making my way to the hospital. I drove into the parking garage, locking the doors and heading inside. I nodded towards the lady at the front desk. She smiled politely, her eyes quickly looking back down at the paperwork on her desk. I rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, looking out the glass back and over the hospital lobby. Once we reached the level, I walked quickly to Clarke's room. The door was already open, so I just walked in. Clarke was sitting up in the chair beside her bed. She kept staring down at some papers, not looking up.
"Hey," I said, stepping towards her. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I get to leave today," Clarke said quietly, looking up at me for a second, but not meeting my eye. She sighed, laying the papers on the bedside table. I could tell something was wrong.
"Is someone coming to pick you up?" I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets and leaning up against the wall. Clarke looked at me with a half smile.
"No, I'm just going to walk," She said. At first I thought she was joking, then I realized she was being serious.
"To where?" I asked, looking her up and down. I realized for the first time that she didn't have any clothes with her. She dress she had was ruined, probably cut off and thrown away the first night. Clarke could barely make it around the floor, much less walk home.
"I know some places," Clarke responded. "The nurse should be here soon to prep me for leaving."
"Would you at least let me drive you?" I asked, taking my hands out of my pockets and walking over to the bed. I sat down at the foot end, the farthest away I could sit. We still weren't comfortable with each other yet.
"You've already done enough."
"I don't mind," I insisted, meeting her eye. As soon as I did, she looked away, taking a deep breath.
"I guess it's okay, then," Clarke said, even more quietly. I nodded, glancing at the papers Clarke had laid down. As I did, the nurse walked in, distracting me. It was a different nurse. She was taller, thinner than all of the others. Her hair was bright red, piled in a messy bun on the top of her head. She looked young, perhaps younger than I was. She smiled, her teeth perfectly white and straight.
"Hello, Ms. Griffin," The nurse said in an upbeat voice. "I'm Katy, I'm going to be taking care of your discharge today. I see they've already brought you the billing papers and discharge instructions. Is your boyfriend going to be taking you home today?"
"He's not my boyfriend, but yes," Clarke answered quickly, her voice louder than before. I chuckled quietly, looking at the nurse. A slight look of embarrassment crossed her face, making my smile even bigger.
"Oh, my apologies. Well if you're ready to go I can help you get changed and take you down," Katy said, her smile not faltering. She sat her clipboard down on the counter and walked over to where we were. I quickly stood up and moved out of her way.
"Um- I was actually wondering if I could just keep this?" Clarke asked, gesturing down to her hospital gown. She kept her head down and spoke slowly, as if she was embarrassed. Katy glanced up at me with a confused look.
"I-I guess so," Katy said, shrugging. Clarke nodded and stood up. Katy helped her out into the hall, where a wheel chair awaited us.
"Oh, I can walk," Clarke said, backing away from the wheel chair.
"It's just policy, Ms. Griffin," Katy insisted, turning the wheel chair towards Clarke. Clarke sighed, shooting me a dirty look. I rolled my eyes, cracking a half smile. She could be so dramatic. Katy helped to lower her into the chair, then took off the chair breaks. She rolled Clarke to the elevator, then out to where I had parked. I unlocked the door as we approached, the tail-lights flickering in response.
"That's yours?" Clarke whispered, a hint of disbelief in her voice. I laughed and nodded.
"Not too bad, huh?"
"Better than Berta," Clarke said with a laugh. My breath caught in my throat. I was surprised she even remembered the car, much less what we used to call it. Berta was my first car, a 1990 Chevy Lumina. As a sixteen year old, I paid a whole $850 cash, and can't count how much I spent fixing her every two weeks when she broke. I drove Berta up until I bought my Mustang. I had her scraped the day after. She was iconic for high-school me. I was the first of my friends to have a car. O and Clarke used to have me drive them around. She was the place where Clarke and I-
"Bellamy?" Clarke said, interrupting my train of thought. "You okay?"
I nodded, opening the passenger door for them. I put my arm out to help Clarke, but of course she ignored me and stood up by herself, using the door for stability. She sunk into the black leather seat and looked up at me. I shut the door and turned towards Katy. She backed away from the car and pulled a bag out of her scrub pocket, handing it to me.
"This is Clarke's medicine. It's Oxycodone and antibiotics. I didn't want to give it to her because of her history," Katy explained. "The directions are written on the bottle."
I nodded and thanked her, tucking the bag in my pocket. I walked to the driver side door and slipped in. Clarke watched as I did so.
"Where to?" I asked, putting the car in reverse. Clarke shrugged.
"I can just give you directions," She said, looking out the window. "Just head towards downtown."
I did as she said, trying to drive carefully. I knew the bumps and jerking motions would irritate the bullet wound. I accelerated slowly and was careful to slow down in plenty of time. I could hear Clarke growing anxious to reach our destination.
"Turn up by Michael's," Clarke instructed as we began to enter into downtown. I flipped on my blinker, looking both ways before I turned down the side street. As we travelled down the street, we passed over one of the bridges.
"Pull to the side over here," Clarke said, pointing to a gravel side on the road. I looked at her in confusion, but did as she said. Once I had stopped, she began to take off her seatbelt.
"Woah, what are you doing?" I asked, putting my hand over hers to stop her. She immediately jumped back at my touch.
"I'm getting out?"
"Here? Where are you going to go?" I asked, looking at her, sitting in the hospital gown, looking even smaller than before. I realized that I hadn't seen her eat at all during the hospital stay.
"I'll find somewhere," Clarke said, finishing unbuckling her seatbelt. She put her hand out as if expecting something.
"Clarke, I'm not leaving you here. You aren't healthy enough to walk anywhere, you're in a hospital gown for goodness sake, and you have nothing," I pointed out, locking the doors.
"Then what would you like for me to do? I don't exactly have anywhere to go," Clarke argued back, unlocking the doors and grabbing the door handle, dropping her other hand.
"You can stay with me for a little bit," I said quickly, without even thinking. Clarke looked at me like I was insane.
"No, Bellamy!"
"Why not?"
"You just pointed out that I didn't have anything," Clarke said, her eyes looking over at me with confusion. "It's fine, just give me my medicine and I'll go."
"What do you mean you don't have anything?" I asked, ignoring her medicine question. She must have been watching when the nurse handed it over.
"I don't have any money. I don't have a phone. All of my clothes are at Murphy's. I don't feel good enough to have sex. I don't-"
"Wait a minute, who said anything about sex?" I interrupted, knitting my brows in confusion. Clarke laughed and shook her head.
"If it isn't money or sex that you want, then what is it, Blake?"
"Who said I want anything?"
"You're offering to let me stay with you. You're the only person who came saw me last week. You're being nice to me. Why? I have nothing to give," Clarke said, her voice softer. I saw her swallow and loosen her grip on the door handle. She stared over at me, her eyes meeting mine and holding there for a long time.
"Maybe it isn't about taking something," I explained, relocking the door just to be on the safe side. Clarke huffed and rolled her eyes again.
"I don't want to bother you," She said.
"You won't," I assured her, putting the car in drive and pulling back into the road, heading towards my apartment. Clarke said nothing, just sat and stared out the window. I occasionally glanced over at her, checking to make sure she was okay. She didn't move a muscle the entire ride. She just sat, staring. As we pulled up and I parked, she looked over at me, waiting. I turned off the ignition and opened my door. Once Clarke had her door open, I locked them and hurried around to Clarke's side. She stood up using the door for balance once again. I tried to help her, offering her my arm. As always, she declined my help and walked around me. I could tell she was in pain. This was the longest she'd been off IV medication since she got into the hospital. Despite this, she followed me inside and down the hall to the stairs and elevator. Clarke headed toward the stairs and I stopped her.
"No, we're riding the elevator up," I said.
"I am fine," She insisted, putting emphasis on every word. I rolled my eyes and decided to give in. When I was little, my mother used the strategy of letting me learn from my own mistakes. I guess that is was Clarke needed. I led her over the stairs, standing behind her in case she needed help. She took the first few steps slowly, gripping the handrail tight. I heard her take a deep breath before taking three more steps quickly. I saw her go for the next, but I laid a hand on her shoulder, to which she jerked away from. She gasped in response to the pain.
"Take it easy," I said quietly, moving beside her on the steps. Clarke rolled her eyes and continued up the other four steps, but a little slower. Once we reached the top, she stopped, still holding onto the bar. I waited for her to catch her breath before leading her down the hall to my apartment. I unlocked the door and pushed it open for her. She looked around first, before stepping in. I followed her in, shutting the door behind me.
"It's nice," Clarke whispered, looking around. I shrugged, walking past her into the kitchen. I pulled her meds out and sat them on top of the refrigerator. Clarke just stood by the couch, leaning against it for security. "Hey, don't you have to work?"
"I'll call my supervisor, let him know I'm working from home," I said, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water. I sat it on the counter before going into the laundry room and grabbing an extra blanket and pillow, as well as moving a load of laundry through. I was amazed how fast one person could go through clothes. I walked back out to the living room, water bottle, blanket and pillow in hand.
"Oh- I don't need that," Clarke said. I laughed.
"It's not for you," I said, setting it down on the couch. "You can have my bed. It's more comfortable."
"Bellamy, no." Clarke said, straightening up a little.
"I don't mind," I insisted, pausing and looking up at her.
"I said no."
"Clarke-" I sighed, slight annoyance tracing my voice.
"I'm serious, Bellamy! I don't understand! Why are you doing all of this? Why did you stay with me? I never asked you to. I never even wanted you to, really! Do you know how weird it is? You're acting like the abortion never happened! You're acting like we never had a fight, like things never changed," Clarke said, raising her voice out of nowhere. I looked up at her sharply.
"I don't want to talk about that right now!" I said back, my voice slow and stern. With her words came back the memory.
"What did you do, Clarke?" I asked, hurt laced in my voice.
"I did what I had to do." Clarke said slowly.
"You didn't even bother to tell me you were pregnant!"
"It doesn't matter. What's done is done!" She screamed back.
"That was my baby, too. You didn't make it all by yourself."
"Bellamy-"
"Get out! Go! I never want to see your face again. Leave, Clarke! Just go!"
"We have to talk about it, Bellamy. It's the elephant in the room that you keep trying not to look at! Why did you all of a sudden stop hating me?" Clarke asked, her voice lowering a bit.
"I never hated you."
"You sure had me fooled!"
"Well what did you expect, Clarke?!" I yelled, stepping closer to her. "I wasn't even mad about the abortion. I was mad that you were pregnant and didn't think to mention it to me! I was hurt and betrayed-"
"I was protecting you, Bellamy! You couldn't handle that responsibility, neither of us could. We were kids!"
"That doesn't change anything, Clarke! You want to know why I'm trying to help you? Maybe it's because I've moved on! Maybe I want to try and be a decent human being,"
"Those don't exist, Bellamy!"
"Maybe not for drug addicts, but for me they do!"
"I'm not a drug addict!" Clarke screamed back, even louder.
"Then what are you!?"
"Scared! I'm scared, Bellamy."
I stopped, all the anger in my body building. I looked at Clarke, her face flushed, her chest heaving. I clenched and unclenched my fists. Emotions bubbled up inside of me. I couldn't think of an answer. I couldn't think of anything. All I could see was her, standing in front of me. I didn't know whether to scream at her or hug her or kick her out again. So I did what any rational person would do. I leaned down, cupping her face with my hand and I kissed her.
Hard.
AN: Thank y'all for reading the third chapter! I apologize again for the length, but I just couldn't find a good place to break it into two separate chapters.
Reviews make my day, and encourage me to write more or update sooner.
Thank-y'all once again.