Clarke's mouth had opened wide under the shock of this revelation coming out of nowhere and she had watched Bellamy's brown irises slowly tint themselves with the light of awareness.

By the time he realized what he had just said, his features had darkened under embarrassment and regret. Any form of anger had completely left the young woman. Only deep sadness remained, because while she looked at Bellamy and waited for him to say something, anything, that could restore her long-overdue hope, what she was now reading on her companion's face was throwing her into turmoil.

"What did you just say?" she asked, her own barely recognizable voice, broken whispering.

The young man immediately put a hand in his hair and looked up to the ceiling as if he were looking for an answer, before answering:

"Nothing at all, I... Forget about that... It's not important, okay?"

Yet for Clarke at this very moment, nothing seemed more important than the words he had spoken and the hidden meaning behind it, if there was indeed any hidden meaning.

"You regret it?" she asked.

It was more of a statement than a question. Obvious remorse could be seen on Bellamy's face. He hesitated before answering:

"I don't want you to... I don't want things to change between us, Clarke."

He had said that like prayer is whispered and the young woman's heart started to bleed. What she was about to say would definitely change things.

"Well, maybe I need them to change."

He had opened his eyes, waiting for the next step.

"I can't take this anymore, Bellamy..."

She had shown with her hand the space that now separated them. She had wanted to refer to the distance that hurt her so much and the desire and need that consumed her every day. He had interpreted that she could no longer bear their interactions, their relationship, their proximity. She thought she was finally confessing her feelings to him when he thought she was rejecting him.

"Did you mean what you said?" she had asked with a face he had taken for disgust while she was simply terrified by his answer.

At that point, he had nothing more to lose. He wouldn't go back. He could only move forward. He wanted to be more for Clarke. He wanted to be everything to Clarke, just as she was everything to him.

Bellamy then rubbed a hand on his face and confessed:

"God, of course, I mean it, Clarke. You look beautiful. Smart. Selfless. Passionate. I stopped understanding what you were telling me the very moment you started raising your voice. Because at that moment..."

He had raised his hand to illustrate what he said:

"The fire in your eyes", he had declared by passing an inch on his frowned eyebrows, "the red of your cheeks", he said, letting his fingers caress his cheekbones, "your breath", he whispered as he touched his throat, "and even the beating of your heart", he whispered, finally putting his hand on it, "I can no longer hear myself think, let alone concentrate," he finally added.

The young man's palm, placed on her skin, had reminded her of that distant moment when she had told him that he was the heart when he had replied that she was the head. However, she no longer wanted to be like that.

She wanted to be the spirit and the soul, the logic and the spontaneity. She wanted to be complete.

Just like six years in space had made Bellamy whole.

Six years away from her.

Six years with Echo.

She had felt tears surging behind her eyelids, but refused to let them flow. Deep inside, a storm of emotions was unleashing and she didn't know which one to let go first. She didn't recognize the man standing in front of her.

In his eyes, she could read as if in an open book all his vulnerability, all his honesty... but what did he do with the woman he had bonded with and who actually lived on this ship with them, with him?

Finally, a deep disappointment and bitter anger seized her and Clarke took a step back and asked, her voice broken:

"How can you do this to me? How can you do this to us?"