Chapter 7: "Presume not that I am the thing I was." - Henry IV Part II

Clarke moaned as she sank onto the couch in the break room, delighting in the feel of her muscles finally unwinding. Practice was as brutal as ever and despite their mutual revelation Monday night, they were continuing on as if nothing had changed. Neither of them had any idea what the intensity of their connection meant and at this point they were too exhausted to give it much thought.

The competition was heating up now that only Clarke, Charlotte, Raven, Atom and Lincoln were left. Octavia had been over the moon when Atom had made it into the semifinal, but she was terrified that the semifinal elimination would be the end of the road for them. Clarke was thankful that the younger Blake was now entirely occupied with her partner. As long as Octavia concentrated on Atom, Bellamy and Clarke were mercifully free of her judgmental stares and snide comments. The Blake household felt normal again, dinner conversation filled with anecdotes from the studio and other trivial topics of conversation.

Clarke was doing her best to give Bellamy the space he'd requested in D.C. Other than their hours in the studio together she rarely saw him. After dinner, she retreated to her room and either read or worked on a sketch she had begun of Wells. One of the only good things to emerge from the intense ordeal of his funeral was the abrupt dissolution of her drawing creative block. Now her fingers itched to put pencil to paper, wanting to bring her best friend back to life. The sketch was nothing extravagant, but Clarke was taking her time with it, trying to give justice to Wells' joy de vive. When she wasn't working on the drawing, she hid it behind the bed, not yet ready for either Blake to discover it. With Octavia she simply didn't want to explain everything, but Bellamy was an entirely more complicated story. A conversation about the drawing would pull them dangerously close to the emotional territory they had spent the past weeks avoiding with the exception of their transformative Rhumba, which had left them both shaken and perhaps even more desperate to evade such emotional situations.

"This end of the couch taken?" Raven Reyes stood above her, brow arched and arms crossed.

Clarke shook her head. "All yours."

"I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Miller is such a hardass, but then I guess you would know that." Raven peered at her though dark lashes, her expression unreadable. Despite talking a few times during the partner swap in week four neither Clarke nor Raven had gone out of their way to interact with the other. Clarke held no dislike for Raven, but the other woman's fiery intensity was intimidating. Not to mention that Raven was here because she had already made a name for herself. The fierce brunette embodied many of the qualities that Clarke wished for herself, but knew she lacked.

Realizing Raven was still staring at her, Clarke cleared her throat. "Um, yeah. He's a real stickler for technique. Though I found it easier working with him than Bellamy. Everything is just so intense with Bellamy. It's exhausting."

The other woman stared at her, as if trying to figure something out. "So you and Blake are an item?"

Adrenaline shot down Clarke's spine, leaving her fingers tingling in its wake. She reminded herself that breathing was a good thing as she stared back at Raven, trying not to be a deer in the headlights. "What? No."

"I thought for sure you two were fucking like bunnies." Raven frowned at her. "I mean it's practically like watching foreplay when you dance. Anyway, I see the way he looks at you. There is no way you guys are just partners."

Clarke shifted, trying not to expose her discomfort. She and Raven were not nearly good enough acquaintances to be having this conversation. "Well, you're wrong. We are just partners and friends. That's it."

Raven shrugged. "Well if you ever feel like changing that, I guarantee satisfaction. That man knows exactly what he's doing."

"Huh?" Clarke froze in place as she stared at Raven. Bellamy and Raven? When had there even been time for that to happen? Her stomach revolted as a wave of nausea washed over her. She knew Bellamy's reputation. How had she fooled herself into thinking that he was waiting for her?

Raven continued on in her praises, oblivious to Clarke's inner turmoil. "I mean I'm not usually one to talk about guys. I believe in not kissing and telling, but holy shit was that sex mind blowing. I'd highly recommend you guys working out whatever is going on because… wow."

Clarke muttered some phrase of agreement before pushing off the couch and rushing to the nearest bathroom. Grasping the sink with trembling fingers, she stared at her red-rimmed eyes. Dark shadows tugged at her eyes and her pallid skin glowed unhealthily in the fluorescent light, making her appear more zombie than human.

The door banged open and abruptly she was staring over her shoulder at Octavia. The brunette gave her a quick once over before ordering, "Stay."

Clarke blinked and Octavia was gone. She met her own confused stare in the mirror, wondering if she had imagined her friend. Maybe she had been so desperate for someone that her mind had conjured Octavia. She was proved wrong an instant later when Bellamy stormed into the bathroom, looking like he expected blood not tears. He froze when he saw her reflection in the mirror, his dark eyes swirling with a myriad of emotions. He approached her slowly as if she were a frightened animal, apt to flee if he moved too swiftly. He held her stare in the mirror throughout his approach and despite her growing embarrassment, Clarke was thankful for his presence. He stopped just behind her. She could feel the heat of him seeping into her back, but he didn't raise a hand or touch her in any way.

"Princess." His voice was soft, the word a plea. "Let's get you out of here."

She tried to ignore the trembling of her bottom lip as she whispered, "Go where?"

He shrugged, his mouth pulled taut as his eyes bored into hers. "Anywhere but here. I think you need a break and I know I could use one."

She nodded and his shoulders immediately relaxed, his whole stance transforming before her eyes. He gave a reassuring smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I've got you. Have you ever been to Griffith Observatory?"

Savoring the heat of his hand against her, Clarke barely paid attention to his question. Observatory? She didn't even know LA had one. "Never heard of it."

"Good." He pulled her around to face him. "I know there's a lot of pressure on you right now, Clarke. I'm sorry. I know things between us aren't helping either."

She couldn't exactly deny that he was a major part of her stress, so she shrugged. "That's life, right?"

His dark eyes roamed her face for a moment before he gave a short nod. "That it is. Come on, let's go."

Bellamy dropped his hand from her shoulder as he moved to open the door. Clarke trailed silently behind him out the bathroom door and through the labyrinth of the studio. Once outside Clarke climbed into Bellamy's black Jeep on autopilot, trusting him to ferry her to their destination, no questions asked. The heavy LA air rushed past her face and tangled her hair as the soft top Wrangler Rubicon drove down Sunset Blvd. Clarke could practically feel the dirt and smog assaulting her skin, but the breeze was nicer than the stifling atmosphere of the studio, so she didn't complain.

Bellamy hadn't spoken since the bathroom and Clarke found the silence comforting. There was so much between them now and it was nice to forget, if only for a moment, how horrendously complex things had become. Instead of dwelling on the tangled mire of emotion that was their relationship, she focused on the passing houses and businesses, forever amazed at the sprawling nature of Los Angeles. The area they were driving through had nice homes with vast green lawns, but in another block the landscape would instantly transform into strip malls and mix-matched apartment buildings.

Their surroundings took an abrupt turn for the natural as they began to gain elevation. Bellamy drove up to a split in the road where cars started to dot the roadside before parking the jeep behind a blue BMW. He quickly hopped down and strode around the Jeep to help Clarke. While the drop wasn't particularly far, he had parked in a ravine and she appreciated the helping hand as she dropped her sneaker clad feet to the ground.

His fingers remained laced with hers, his warmth percolating into her, as he led the way towards a palatial building near the edge of a cliff. The Hollywood Sign loomed above them as they crossed the front lawn toward the building, which Clarke figured had to be the observatory. She paused at the entrance of the white stone building, searching for the ticket counter. Bellamy tugged on her hand, leading her up the steps.

"It's free, Princess."

"Oh," she murmured. The inside of the observatory was a science museum, various physics and astronomy displays littering the walls. Clarke relaxed amid the optics demonstrations and solar system models. It had been a long time since she'd visited a science museum, but she'd spent her childhood exploring them with her father. Jake Griffin had been passionate about his daughter understanding science. He had never pushed her toward the sciences, but he had been adamant that no child of his would grow up without understanding the fundamental laws of physics and their applications. She'd spent summers at science camps while other girls her age flocked to arts and crafts. Clarke had done her share of crafts too, but her father had made sure she was thoroughly rounded in her education. Being back in the middle of miniature planets and prisms made her feel closer to him, as if his loss hadn't been slowly boring a hole through her heart for two years.

Bellamy was staring at her with questioning eyes, and Clarke realized she'd frozen in place. "It's fine. This place just reminds me of my dad." She led him towards a display that explained the difference between the optics in reflecting and refracting telescopes. "He was an engineer, you see, and I spent my entire childhood going to science museums throughout the country. Whatever city we went to for whatever stupid campaign function, he made sure we stopped at a museum, even if was just a small one with only a room or two in it."

He nodded, his expression a cross between fondness and sadness. "I wish I'd had that. I tried to take Octavia to as many museums as possible, but money was always tight and there really wasn't that much near us."

Clarke frowned at him, realizing she had no idea where they were from. "Did you guys grow up in LA?"

"Nah," he said, motioning her up the stairs to the observation deck of the observatory. "We moved to LA after our dancing careers actually took off. We're from Erie, Colorado."

"Colorado? I've only been a few times, mostly for ski trips to Aspen. It's a beautiful state."

"Of course you've been to Aspen, Princess." His tone wasn't as biting as it could have been, but she could hear the unspoken resentment simmering below the surface. "I've never been. It's too much of a playground for the rich and famous for any of us normal folk. Sorry, but it's true."

Avoiding his loaded gaze, she stared out at the smoggy downtown LA skyline. "So what's Erie like?"

"Normal American city. Probably a little nicer than some I suppose. Near Boulder, which is to be avoided at all costs and not too far from Denver, which was good since O and I could get started in the performing arts world fairly easily. The studio we went to in Arvada really made it possible for O to achieve her dreams and I just ended up going along for the ride."

He was leaning his forearms on the railing, staring into the distance. Clarke had talked with Octavia about their childhood more than Bellamy, but neither had been particularly forthcoming. Even now his jaw was taut, his dark eyes hard.

"You ended up becoming an amazing dancer, Bellamy. O thinks you're even better than her."

His jaw clenched, but otherwise he didn't react to her words. After a minute of heavy silence he glanced over at her. "Dancing was O's dream, not mine. Don't get me wrong, I do love it and dancing with you has changed my view on a lot of things. At the end of the day though, dancing is my job. It's a way to take care of O and make sure that we're okay."

Clarke turned to lean her back against the stone railing. She crossed her arms and stared back at Bellamy. "Okay. So if you could do anything you wanted, what would it be?"

"Teach history."

She almost laughed before she realized that Bellamy's eyes held no hint of humor. Schooling her features and hoping her initial response had not been obvious, she asked, "What type of history?"

"Classical. I love the Greeks and the Romans." He ducked his head, sliding his eyes back to the skyline.

Clarke stared at the strong line of his jaw and wondered what else she didn't know about Bellamy Blake. He had seemed such an open and shut case at the beginning of their time together, but he had surprised her, proving her long list of assumptions wrong at every turn. "Have you done anything about this interest of yours?"

Clarke was surprised when he nodded. "Yeah."

She let the silence hang between them for a second before prompting, "And what might you have done? I'm in no position to judge you, Bellamy."

He glanced up at her, his dark eyes searching her face. "I've never told anyone this, not even O."

"I'm not going to go around sharing your secrets. Lord knows you have enough blackmail material on me to last several lifetimes…"

"Okay." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I have a college degree from Colorado State University in Classical History. It took almost six years to complete that and the GED, but I finished last year. I didn't tell O because I know she feels bad about not having finished high school, let alone gone to college, and I don't want to put pressure on her to change her career or make her regret her choices."

"Bellamy," Clarke sighed. "Octavia would be happy for you, not upset. I can promise you that. You should tell her. How'd you even manage the time to do that anyway? Wouldn't everyone notice you going to classes?"

"It was all online through their Global Campus thing. I just told O that I was out with some girl and went to the UCLA library instead."

"Six years is an awful long time to hide something like that."

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, a motion that Clarke had come to recognize as a nervous habit. "I didn't know if I was going to finish and I didn't want to tell anyone until I was done. And by the time I was done, I was so used to hiding it that I just let it slip under the radar."

Clarke reached out to him, gripping his strong shoulder with her small hand. "You need to tell O. She'll be livid that you hid it from her for like ten minutes and then she'll be ecstatic. Trust me."

"I'll think about it." He turned away from the view and motioned toward the stairs leading to the lawn below. "Care to sit down?"

Clarke nodded, accepting that the conversation was over. She couldn't help staring at the back of his head in wonder as they descended. The idea of him as simply an arrogant dancer seemed laughable now. It was clear that although dancing was very much a part of who he was, he felt there was more out there for him. He'd become a dancer because that's what his sister had needed. Clarke had known he would do anything for Octavia, but she hadn't realized how much he'd already sacrificed. Despite the knowledge that dancing was not his first love, Clarke was glad that he'd made the decision to support his sister in her dream. Without him following this path, she would never have experienced the electric feelings and utter freedom that came from dancing with him. She knew it was a selfish thing to think, but he had given her so much and she could not wish that either of them had taken a different path.

He motioned to a patch of grass in front of them. "Will this do, Princess?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "It's fine."

They settled to the ground, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat of the other. The Hollywood Sign loomed in front of them and Clarke was reminded of all the dreamers that came to LA hoping for their big break. In reality, Bellamy and Octavia were extremely lucky to have achieved their level of success. Most who came to this town never escaped their jobs at nightclubs and bars.

Her teeth worried her lip as she squinted at the sun hanging high in the western sky, tracing its brilliant rays to the Santa Monica Mountains and the distant Pacific Ocean. Clarke had never been the biggest fan of the beach, her memories from childhood too marred by aborted outings to the Rockaways. Still, there was something inescapably enthralling about the waves rolling across the ever-changing sands, footsteps disappearing seconds after their creation. It was all one horrible metaphor for life really. In the global scale, they were all just footprints on the beach, waiting to be washed away by the rising tide. She sighed, redirecting her gaze to the glittering skyscrapers of downtown LA.

"You want to talk about it?"

She startled, having momentarily forgotten that Bellamy sat beside her. A glance his direction revealed luminous brown eyes boring into her with frightening intensity. She swallowed, dropping her gaze to the lush grass. "Just pondering mortality."

He hummed lightly, the deep noise vibrating through her. "Clarke." She lifted her head to meet his penetrating stare, all too aware of the heat that pooled within her the longer she held his dark gaze. "I know I can't say anything to make it better. But there is a time for all things. We savor them while we can and then we have to let them go."

A lump rose in her throat as she realized he was talking about Wells and perhaps even her father and his mother. Their late night communions on the couch had ceased without comment from either of them the week after the funeral. She was giving Bellamy his distance and besides, she needed a better coping mechanism than drinking herself to sleep. Clarke knew she was barely on the road to recovery, but she wasn't certain she could talk to Bellamy about Wells right now. It was a raw subject and she had no idea if she and Bellamy were in the right place for that conversation. She wanted to talk to him, to have him help her untangle the chaos in her mind, but the distance between them had only grown since their Rhumba.

"You can talk to me." He'd shifted during her prolonged silence, moving into her space, and now his warm breath ghosted over her cheek as he ducked his head to meet her desolate stare.

Clarke looked steadily back at him, wishing she knew what lay beyond the dark depths of his chocolate eyes. "Can I?"

"Clarke," his voice was strained now. "You know you can."

"How can I know you're not just going to shut me out and fall back on all that bullshit about professionalism? I needed you that night in D.C." She didn't dare look at him as she forged onward, her voice barely a whisper. "I fucking needed you, Bell. But one moment of weakness and suddenly I was paying for it, for our mistake. I needed my friend, but he was six feet in the ground. And I needed you, but you walked out the damn door."

His breath hitched against her cheek, but she refused to look up. She was so damn confused around him and this moment was no exception. The silence between them drew out painfully, the vibrant green of the grass blurring as she refused to blink. Finally, he spoke, a hoarse croak into the still afternoon air. "God, Clarke. I'm so sorry. I should have known. Why didn't you ask me to stay? I offered…"

"And what? Be rejected by you again?" She tried to mask the bitterness in her voice, but it was useless. That had been one of the worst nights of her life and just the memory of it had her quaking with grief and anger.

"I asked…I wanted to give you space-"

"Space? Did I look like I needed space?" She looked at him now, her eyes blazing with indignation. "I got drunk to forget. I got so fucking drunk I didn't feel the gaping wound in my heart. I thought it would be okay, that I was with friends. But then it got complicated and you fucking bailed."

He stared back at her, eyes unreadable and jaw twitching with tension. She knew she had no right to yell at him about this, that she hadn't asked him to stay when he'd offered, but she was beyond logic. The last two weeks had been spent bottling her emotions away, pretending his rejection hadn't stung like a swarm of hornets. Clarke was over it. Gritting her teeth, she spat out her next question, "Did you sleep with Raven?"

His dark eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He managed to recover fairly quickly as he stared at her, his eyes flashing between confusion and a darker emotion. "Who told you that?"

"Raven."

At this, his expression shuttered and his eyes snapped closed. Bellamy's voice was deep and rough as he muttered, "Yeah."

Clarke felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. So Raven hadn't been lying to her. She pushed down the despair spiraling though her. He didn't owe her an explanation and she wasn't going to debase herself and ask. As she stared down at the grass, she became aware of a tingling at the base of her neck and turned to find Bellamy staring at her. Steeling herself, she met his dark stare.

His eyes were a swirl of regret and pain. He reached for her, ensnaring her hands and pulling them toward him. She could feel him trembling despite his strong grip. "Clarke. It was long before you and I even really knew each other. Roma and I were having an off week, probably when she and Lexa had their fling now that I think about it, and Raven and I had been paired for the swap week. I guess I figured what the hell, I wasn't going to be her long term partner."

"But you were her partner." Clarke stared down at their joined hands. She was torn between the urge to rip her hands away from his or never let go. She knew her anger was irrational, but she had no idea how to quell the rising tide of her frustration. "You told me you don't sleep with your partners."

He pulled sharply on her hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I don't. It was an honest mistake. I was lonely. She was lonely. It just happened the once."

Clarke counted his freckles to avoid meeting his eyes. "You don't owe me an explanation, Bellamy."

"Yes, I do," he insisted. "Ever since the night Wells died, I haven't been with anyone else. The day after you spent that first night at our house, I broke up with Roma permanently. I knew I felt something for you even then and I wasn't willing to string Roma along, not once I knew it would never be the same, that I didn't truly want her. I can't look at other woman the same way anymore, Princess."

"Then what the hell is keeping us apart, Bellamy? Tell me!" She knew she sounded desperate, but she was so damn tired of this back and forth between them. He had said he couldn't live like this in D.C. and she was beginning to realize that neither could she. "You can sleep with Raven but you can't be there when I need you most? It's okay for us to be friends, but you run away the minute things get complicated? What the hell are you afraid of, Bellamy?"

His grip on her hands tightened as he murmured, his voice a smoky baritone, "Look at me, Clarke." As if possessed, she raised her eyes from boring holes in the turf. His gaze seared her to the core, sending tremors through her. He released one hand to run his thumb along her cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "I only want what's best for you, Clarke, and I'm not sure that I'm the right thing for you right now. You're still hurting from Wells and I have no idea if you and I even have a future beyond the show."

Staring into his dark eyes, joy and frustration warred though her in equal measure. "Bellamy, I will always be hurting from Wells, just like the pain of losing my dad has never gone away. Just like you can't forget your mother. It's been over five weeks, and while I may not be the best candidate for a relationship, I can't help thinking that's not why you're saying no."

Now it was his turn to drop his dark eyes, his hands releasing hers as he turned away from her probing stare. She watched the muscles of his jaw work, his eyes fixed on the glistening skyline. When he spoke his words were as sharp as shattered glass. "Princess, we're from very different worlds and I know I can't fit into yours. Not now and certainly not in the future. As much as you might hate the title, you are America's Princess, Clarke, and I don't even come close to being in the same league as you."

Clarke stared at him in disbelief. That he thought so little of himself in comparison to her was absurd. He was the one with the star-studded name. Clarke was just another no one with an unfortunate relation to Abigail Griffin, a woman famous simply because she'd made the right backroom deals for the last thirty years. If anything, he was out of her league. "Bellamy…"

"It's true, Princess."

"It's total bullshit," she challenged, eyes flashing dangerously. He was not getting away with denying her this, denying himself this, just because her mother was a bitch with 24-7 access to the White House. "I am not better than you, Bellamy. And anyway, you must not know me very well if you think I'm going to go back and live that life."

His eyes widened as his head snapped back toward her. "What?"

"I'd have to be a fool to back to DC now. I can't go back to that world, live that life. Not anymore. I'm going to withdraw from medical school as soon as all this is over. I thought I was doing it for my father, but I realize that's a foolish way to think about it. He would never have been happy that I was doing something I hated. I never even imagined I could escape that life until I met you and Octavia. Now it's impossible to go back." She glanced at Bellamy's shocked expression. "So if that's the only reason we're caught in this god-awful dance of denial…"

He tilted his head in wonder, staring at her as if he had only just seen her. He brought his hands up to cradle her face, moving to kneel in front of her. "What are you saying, Princess?"

"I'm saying that if you're avoiding starting something because you think it would never work because of who I am, you need to think again. I want to dance. I want to embrace this side of myself not only for some reality television show, but also for the rest of my life. I want to dance and most importantly, I want to dance with you. You're my best friend right now, Bellamy, and I can't imagine a world where that isn't true. Please don't let my mother ruin this for me too."

She barely had time to catch her breath after her speech before his lips were crashing down on hers. They moved against hers with desperate joy, as if he wasn't sure this was real and he wanted to savor each moment lest reality break them apart. She smiled into the kiss, drinking in the feel of him against her. He pulled away all too soon, resting his forehead against hers as he stared at her in amazement. She brought up a hand and buried it in his dark curls. "So we can stop torturing ourselves?"

He blinked, eyes darting down to her lips before he pulled back so he could properly meet her stare. "Everyday you amaze me, Clarke Griffin. I never imagined I'd like you, let alone feel this way, but I must be the luckiest man alive to have you. I never imagined this was possible... not for real anyway."

She shifted to settle next to him, leaning against his shoulder as he sat back on the grass. "So what next?"

"Nothing, everything. I have no idea." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "We still need to finish the show strong. I want to win this thing, Princess. I know it's just a stupid show, but this has been my life for the last seven years." He paused, craning his neck so he could see her face. "I haven't even told O this, but I think she suspects. This is my last season on the show."

Clarke stiffened against him. She stared back into his deep chocolate eyes, trying to figure out what he was saying. She frowned, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "You don't want to stop dancing, do you?"

He was silent for a moment, simply staring at her with unreadable dark eyes. "No. Originally that was my plan. I was going to get my teaching credential and then start teaching history, but that's not exactly what I want anymore."

Her heart thundered in her chest, blood pounding in her ears as she waited for him to continue. He took at deep breath and stared intently at her. "I think we should start a dance company together."

Time rushed to a halt. She couldn't believe his words. His expression was guarded, as if he was sure she would reject the idea and her chest constricted at his uncertainty. "Are you serious? You would really be willing to do that for me? With me?"

"You have serious talent." He ducked his head and smiled at her though his lashes. "And I might have Googled you and your days in the Reparatory Dance Troop at Ark College. And then I might have e-mailed one of your dance professors who was more than happy to chat with me on the phone about the thesis project that you started in your junior year but dropped due to Pre-Med requirements."

Clarke stared at him, caught halfway between fury and awe. She'd known he was interested in her dancing experience, but she'd never realized that he was so interested as to dig up her past. She settled for sputtering, "No one knows about that…"

He grinned at her, realizing she wasn't going to murder him for prying into her life. "Anyway, I loved the idea of fusing the visual and performing arts. I think we could create some really powerful things together. Just think about it, okay?"

She settled back against him, staring out at the Hollywood Sign. Was he really offering her everything she ever wanted? Bellamy Blake, infamous asshole and top dancer on Dancing with the Stars, wanted her to start a dance company with him. It seemed insane, the type of thing she would dream about in middle or high school. But he wasn't Bellamy Blake, dancing superstar, to her anymore. He was just Bellamy, her closest friend and confidant. The only man that could set her blood on fire and drive her to homicidal rage in the same breath. Despite the fact that they'd only known each other for nine weeks, she felt like he'd been by her side for her entire life. The idea of a day without him was unfathomable.

She relaxed further into him, breathing in the mix of sandalwood and pine deeply as she closed her eyes. His arms moved to gather her closer until all she could feel was the pounding his heart and the caress of his warm breath across her neck. This. This was all she had ever wanted.

"I'll think about it."