I am so, so sorry. I promise I won't make you wait that long again. I will go back and edit this chapter later.

As her feelings washed over her the next morning, Clarke fought the shock. She wasn't… she couldn't be in love with Bellamy. It wasn't possible. And yet…

She reflected back, but she couldn't identify that moment where everything had changed. One minute he was a stranger she used to scratch an itch, and then he was her best friend, and the next minute she was in love. And all of that had happened in a few months. The baby was definitely fucking with her emotions; that was the only logical explanation. She spent the rest of the day worrying about what this new development meant in her life. She had a baby on the way; she couldn't afford to suddenly be lovesick. Especially not when the target of her affection was also her baby daddy. That just wasn't acceptable. It had to be the hormones.

She repressed everything all day, dragging herself to work and focusing on her patients.

That night, when Bellamy got off of work, he came over. It wasn't unusual for him to come by for dinner and a movie, and then stay over. However, this time, Clarke was already tucked into bed, her eyes closed as she tried to sleep, exhausted from her shift and the emotions weighing on her. He slipped into the bed next to Clarke, pulling her close, his hand rubbing her slightly swollen belly. This was a position they had taken to sleeping in – it seemed to help Clarke fend off the discomfort of being pregnant at night. It also just felt natural to be close to Bellamy. She guessed that he didn't know she was awake, because he nosed at her shoulder and kissed it softly before sighing into her hair. Within minutes, his breathing evened out and he was asleep. Before long, the feel of his heartbeat and his warm breath against her skin lulled her to sleep.

When she woke up in the morning, he was gone, but there was a note on the pillow, letting her know he had to go to work but he'd see her soon. Clarke deflated a little, but dragged herself out of bed to eat breakfast. She slipped some toast into the toaster and then poured some orange juice before popping her pre-natal vitamin into her mouth.

"You slept with my brother."

Clarke nearly choked on her pill before swallowing and coughing. "Shit, O, don't do that. And no, I didn't sleep with your brother."

Octavia's eyes narrowed. "It isn't a big deal, you don't have to lie to me."

"Okay, fine, we slept. As in, snoring and all. I think he may have drooled on my pillow."

"Seriously? That's it?! God, the two of you, its like pulling teeth!"

Clarke looked at her best friend quizzically. "Wait, are you trying to get us together?"

Octavia sighed. "Of course I am, Clarke. Oh my god, sometimes I'm amazed by your lack of insight into your own feelings. You are the mother of my niece or nephew, and Bell makes you smile this fucking glowing smile that I've never, ever seen on your face before. So of course I want you two together. I love you both, and I see the way you guys look at each other when you think the other isn't looking. This isn't about the baby. It's about wanting you to be happy. So talk to him."

Clarke looked at her friends and sighed deeply. Octavia was right. She couldn't pretend like Bellamy wasn't important to her. So she decided to do what any possibly insane, pregnant and hormonal woman would do. She was going to find him and tell him how she felt.

And she needed to do it as soon as possible, before she could chicken out.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and texted him, asking if he is home. No response came, and as the day wore on, she obsessed more and more. She went to the hospital and did her rotation on the pediatric unit (managing to only cry once when a little girl with black, curly hair and freckles comes in and they have to refer her to a pediatric oncologist). All the while, she couldn't get Bellamy, or her feelings for Bellamy, out of her head.

Her phone never beeped. And it fucking hurt. Damn it, that's why she didn't do feelings.

That night, when she got off work and knew he would be home, she got in her car and drove over to his apartment. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. She was still wearing her scrubs, and her hair was a mess, and she had the beginnings of a baby bump. She was sure she looked like hell. But it didn't matter. She could do it, she could tell him how she felt. She would tell him how she felt.

Standing there in front of his door, the seconds felt like hours. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? Just as Clarke turned away and was about to leave, to give up any hope of telling him the truth, the door opened. She held her breath, trying to prepare mentally for spilling her guts.

"Can I help you?" a distinctly not Bellamy voice asked. Clarke spun on her heals, eyes wide with surprise. A woman stood at the door, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, her wet, brown hair in a messy ponytail. She was holding a bottle of Bellamy's favorite IPA in her hand.

This girl was far too comfortable in Bellamy's apartment to be a stranger. Tears pricked at Clarke's eyes and she swallowed them back. She was so stupid to think that someone as gorgeous and wonderful as Bellamy wasn't getting some elsewhere.

"H-Hi. Is, um, is Bellamy here?" she asked, because she wasn't fortunate enough to get sucked into a black hole right at that opportune moment.

The brunette smiled. "He's in the shower. Are you a friend? Is he expecting you?"

The shower. Fuck.

"Uh, I'm a friend of his. I left a movie here the last time we did a movie night and I was hoping I could just grab it really quick." It wasn't a lie, per se. Lots of Clarke's movies were stored in Bellamy's living room cabinet.

The woman nodded, opening the door wider and ushering Clarke in. "I'm Echo, by the way. It's nice to meet one of Bellamy's friends, finally. He should be out in a minute if you want to wait." Clarke fought the bile rising in her throat. Finally. How long exactly had Bellamy been seeing this woman? For as long as he'd been cuddling with Clarke? For as long as he'd known she was pregnant? Since before he slept with her? Bastard. And he didn't even have the balls to tell her. Fuck, what if this woman was her baby's stepmother one day. She deserved to know.

"I'm Clarke, nice to meet you too. And no, I'm actually late, just needed the movie. Thanks," she mumbled, grabbing the first DVD that she recognized as her own before quickly moving to the door again diligently avoiding eye contact the entire time. "Have a good night," she whispered before leaving the apartment and disappeared into the night again.

Echo. What kind of fucking name was Echo? And she wasn't even that pretty. Like, sure, she had really good cheekbones, but that's it. Clarke had way better tits. But clearly Bellamy wasn't a tit guy. And apparently he liked girls with darker hair and eyes. Ugh, the entire thing was driving Clarke insane. She was comparing herself to a complete stranger and losing all sense of self-confidence.

Octavia wasn't home, so Clarke changed into her pajamas, ordered pizza, and decided to binge on Fuller House on Netflix while she cried. And god, she cried. The fucking bastard went and knocked her up, made her fall for him, and the whole time… well, there was Echo.

Text messages from Bellamy went unanswered for the next two days.

Hey.

Sorry I missed your texts yesterday – I was in training and then hanging out with my partner.

Echo told me you stopped by – you okay?

What are you doing?

Clarke, are you okay?

Is the baby okay?

Clarke?

….CLARKE?

I knocked on the door tonight. You didn't answer. Your car was in the lot. What's going on?

O won't talk to me about you. Says it's between us.

Clarke, please, just tell me what I did so I can fix it.

I miss you.

Clarke didn't tell Octavia what happened. She didn't tell anyone. She called in sick to work and camped out in her bedroom.

On the third day, Clarke turned off her phone because the calls and texts were getting overwhelming.

On the fourth day, Octavia went out of town. She didn't want to, but she had a work obligation that couldn't be rescheduled. With one glance at her pitiful best friend, she left with a sigh. Suddenly Clarke was completely alone in the apartment – not that it mattered, it wasn't like she was planning on leaving her bed. She hadn't so much as showered in days.

Late at night, she was drifting off to sleep to re-runs of some 1980s TV show when there was banging on her door. She felt her heartbeat speed up and sat up in bed. Before she could do anything else, she heard the front door squeak open and then slam closed. She tried to find her cell phone, which had been sorely neglected for days, but couldn't find it.

And then, all of the sudden, Bellamy was at her bedroom door. And he was pissed, the anger practically radiating off of him. She was once again regretting her life decisions.