Clarke flinched when she felt cool drops fall on her bare stomach. "Hey!" she cried.
"Get that look off your face," Octavia said from the pool.
"What look?" Clarke wiped away the drops and straightened herself on the tanning chair.
"The look that says you and my brother made up and ravaged each other just now."
Clarke outright laughed at that. "I won't argue with that statement."
"Gross!" Octavia yelled. She swam to the edge of the pool and brought her arms to rest on the edge, her face turning somber. "Hey, Clarke," she started.
Clarke opened her eyes against the sun and brought her arm up to shield her. "Yeah, O?"
"I'm glad you're with my brother," she said. "I'm seeing him smile more. He doesn't just drag his ass anymore. I'm pretty sure it's because of you, so, thank you."
Clarke leaned forward in the chair, her hair falling down her shoulders. "Was he really that bad before?"
"I wouldn't say bad. He was never bad. But I could tell he wasn't happy." Octavia sighed. "I just don't want my brother to see me as a job, you know?"
A job. Octavia thought Bellamy saw her as a job? Clarke could relate to that. Not in regards to her and Bellamy, but Clarke has always felt that way about other people. A job, something that people had to endure. And if they weren't enduring her it's because they were using her. Dante, Evan, Cage, Kane, even her mom. But Clarke never felt that way with the Blakes. It broke her heard a little bit to know that Octavia thought of herself that way.
"Bellamy loves you," Clarke said. "You're his family, not his job."
"I know. I just worry that maybe my mom put too much pressure on him when he was younger and it all just kind of stuck. Maybe a little too well."
Clarke couldn't ignore the opportunity to open up this can of worms. "What happened to your mom?"
"Car accident. I don't remember much. Bell says I was too young to remember but he tells me it was a drunk driver. She lost control of the car and drove off a cliff."
Clarke couldn't help but grimace. What an awful way to go. "I'm so sorry."
"Thanks," Octavia said, eyes starring off into the distance. "It's hard for me to feel bad. I don't remember too much of my mom. Sometimes I feel guilty about that." Octavia finally zoned back in and her eyes widened. "I'm so sorry," she sputtered. "I don't usually spew all that crap out to people."
"Not even to Bellamy?"
Octavia shook her head.
Clarke gave her a small smile, just something to reassure her. "Well if you can't tell your brother you should at least be able to tell a friend. I'm glad I'm that friend for you."
"I'm glad you are too," she smiled. Octavia pushed away from the wall and dropped underwater.
It was Clarke's reminder of what she had to do. And suddenly she felt like shit. One minute she was spewing things about friendship and being there for Octavia, but she had a mission to do. Octavia was a job. To Clarke at least. But she was quickly developing into something more. And so, all the things that Clarke had just finished saying to Octavia would still stand. No matter what power she exhibited, or how far Clarke would have to push her, she would still be there for Octavia when it all came undone.
Octavia started to do a few laps back and forth in the pool and Clarke saw her chance. She stood from her chair and went to the pool's edge. Octavia must have seen Clarke's shadow because she stopped midstride in the middle of the pool and glanced at her.
She wiped the water out of her eyes. "You okay, Clarke?"
It was now or never, Clarke told herself. "Forgive me," she said. Then she struck a hand out. Clarke curled her fist and watched the quick flash of terror in Octavia's eyes just before she was dragged down to the bottom of the pool. Clarke could see Octavia's figure, disembodied by the water, fighting to get back to the surface, but Clarke had a tight vise around Octavia's waist. The water would feel a thousand times heavier on Octavia's small frame, but Clarke wasn't planning on doing anything else – just enough to hold Octavia down.
"Come on, come on," Clarke muttered. She knew Octavia would pass out soon if she didn't use her powers. And Clarke was sure of it. Octavia had powers. Being in the water, holding the stone, it should all be working to chip away the wall that kept Octavia's powers hidden.
This was the final step. Aquaria wouldn't let its host die. Not without a fight.
But Octavia was still struggling.
"Come on, wake up!" Clarke screamed at her. The fist Clarke had curled her hand into was starting to ache, but she couldn't relent. She couldn't give up on Octavia. That was how Clarke rationalized what she was doing to her friend. If Clarke pulled out now and called it quits, Octavia would never forgive her. If Clarke didn't relent and Octavia woke up with her powers, sure she would still be pissed at Clarke, but Octavia would see why it was the only way. Octavia would understand.
A few bubbles disrupted the surface of the water. That's when Clarke noticed Octavia had stopped moving. Clarke took a tentative step forward, her fist still locked in its hold. She couldn't let up yet. Octavia hadn't woken up.
Seconds turned into minutes, Clarke was sure of it, but Octavia still wasn't moving. A cry burst from Clarke's lips. What had she done?
"Octavia, where did you put-"
Clarke couldn't make herself turn around to face Bellamy. Not when she had his sister dragged to the bottom of the pool.
"Clarke?" he asked, noticing her tension. "Where's O?" And then he saw Octavia's body at the bottom of the pool. He jolted forward. "Octavia!"
Bellamy threw himself into the pool, clothes and shoes still on, but Clarke was still frozen, her fist still clenched. What should she do? If she kept Octavia under any longer, she would die…if she wasn't already. No, Clarke told herself, Octavia wasn't dead. Her power wouldn't let her be dead. So Clarke watched Bellamy swim to the bottom and grab his sister around her waist. The moment he touched her there, his skin came into contact with Clarke's power. It shocked him away, a small spark to warn him off. But Bellamy wasn't giving up. He gripped underneath Octavia's arms and yanked, fighting against Clarke's hold.
But as Clarke continued to watch Bellamy struggle, seeing Octavia lose more and more air, seeing one Blake fight and the other slipping away, Clarke couldn't handle that. She let go with a scream. Her fist unfurled and she sank to the edge of the pool, her knees hitting the concrete harshly. She couldn't bear to look up. But she heard Bellamy breach the surface and take a large gulp of air. She didn't hear Octavia do the same.
"Octavia," Bellamy cried again. He carried Octavia out of the pool and immediately set her down at the edge, going straight into chest compressions.
Clarke finally found the courage to see the damage. Octavia wasn't breathing. A sinking feeling came over Clarke. What if she really had killed Octavia? "No," Clarke mumbled. She crawled over to Bellamy and Octavia on her knees, ignoring the rocks that stabbed her on the way over. She reached them just as Bellamy bent forward to breathe air into Octavia's lungs for the third time. She still wasn't breathing.
Clarke brought her palms, one on top of the other, and placed them on Octavia's chest. The murderous look on Bellamy's eyes told her he wanted Clarke to stay far away from them, but he needed help. Clarke sat up on her knees and pressed down on Octavia's chest, counting the beats. There was a moment that Clarke realized she could use her powers to save Octavia, but worried that using her powers would counteract Octavia's, further burying them inside her. If Octavia's powers needed to think its host was dying in order to wake up, then Clarke would restrain her use of power. But then was Clarke really any help at all? She continued her compressions once Bellamy pulled away again.
Just when Clarke was ready to give in and use her powers, Octavia sat up suddenly. The momentum threw Clarke back a few feet.
Whoa, Clarke thought. That kind of strength was no ordinary strength. And as the thought left Clarke, she saw Octavia's eyes.
They were glowing blue.
"Thank the Fates," Clarke muttered. She crawled back, hands bracing against Octavia's legs, touching just to feel physically that Octavia was there well and alive. But then she was gone. Octavia was feet away and Clarke was air borne.
He moved like a blur, one moment beside Octavia, stroking her hair, and then the next flying through the air, carrying Clarke with him and slamming her body against the hard brick wall.
Clarke cried out as her back connected to the wall.
"You could have killed her!" Bellamy yelled.
Of course he would figure out that it was Clarke holding his sister down. He wasn't stupid. Especially with the way Clarke hovered over the pool, watching it all unravel.
"Bell!" yelled Octavia.
Clarke wasn't sure if Octavia feared for Clarke's well-being or if she just didn't want to see her brother make a scene because it was pretty obvious from the look on Octavia's face that she knew it was Clarke who had done it too, somehow.
"I wouldn't have let her die," argued Clarke. "And neither would her power."
Bellamy gritted his teeth. He had seen Octavia's eyes. But that didn't excuse the fact Clarke almost killed his sister.
"I don't want you anywhere near my sister," he said, voice low. Bellamy's low voice was much more menacing than his yells. Clarke preferred a Bellamy that yelled at her than the one whose voice was dripped with anger right then and there. It forced Clarke to swallow loudly. For all her strength and power, Clarke suddenly felt small against the wall, against Bellamy's tight hold.
"As a matter of fact," he went on. "I don't want you anywhere near us at all. You and your kind are poison. You shouldn't even be part of this world. And now look what you've done. You dragged my sister into this mess."
Clarke's jaw locked. It was the only way to keep her watery eyes from spilling the tears they wanted to. And not because Bellamy was angry, or because he was saying harsh things to her. But because they were true. Clarke and her kind shouldn't have been part of this world. They should have died out long ago. And now they lived in the tightest form of secrecy. So tight that if at any time it was breached, death was always the first option.
"I was doing my job," Clarke said, immediately regretting her choice of words. It would hit Octavia pretty hard to know she was a job after all. When she turned her gaze to Octavia, her eyes betrayed her and spilled a few tears.
Bellamy dragged Clarke forward, gave her a shake, and then slammed her against the wall again. The action caught Clarke off guard and she yelped.
"You don't get to look at her like that, do you hear me? Because this is on you, Clarke. You did this. You and your lies." Bellamy let her go and she slumped against the wall, the feeling of dejection coursing through every pore in her body.
He was right, she reasoned. She did this.
"Now get out of here," he said, moving back to Octavia.
Clarke was still pinned to the wall though, pinned by her emotions. She felt like taking any step at all would destroy her. It would set a bomb off. But as she watched Bellamy caress Octavia's face, watched him pull back the wet tendrils of her hair and clutch her closer, Clarke knew she didn't deserve to stay and watch them.
She pushed off the wall, walked to the lawn chair and picked up the white tee. She didn't even let herself glance at them on the way past the gate, telling herself she didn't deserve that peace either. But Bellamy's voice made her stop.
He didn't speak any higher than his normal voice, but each word pierced through her.
"If you're not careful, your lies will end up killing someone, Clarke." Bellamy paused. "Again. And someone much closer to you than he was."
The air got punched out of Clarke, it seemed. Clarke couldn't believe Bellamy would use that against her now. She told him about Dante in confidence because she trusted him with that information. And now he was using it against her.
Kind of how you used Octavia. And he trusted you with her, said a nagging voice in Clarke's head. It was the truth though. And because of that, Clarke would take it. She would take whatever words or consequence came of her actions. She gulped and stood there for a moment longer before leaving the Blake siblings behind.
Clarke was still shaking and trembling by the time she got inside her car. She started up her engine but waited there for a few minutes then took out her phone, needing to talk to the one person who could make her feel a little less like shit. Not take her guilt away, because Clarke deserved that. But he would remind Clarke about things like 'duty' and 'doing what was right.' Her dad would help her.
She dialed his number and he answered on the third ring. "Clarke?"
Her dad sounded a little winded. Maybe he had run to catch the phone, she thought.
"Dad," she said, voice breaking.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
"I did something, dad. And I don't know what to do now. Help me, please," she continued to sob. She took a breath to try and calm herself down.
Her voice caught when she heard shuffling on the other end.
"I," her dad hesitated.
Clarke almost asked if something was wrong, but he was speaking before she could ask.
"I'm so sorry, Clarke. Do you want to tell me about it?"
She sniffed. Yes, she did want to tell him. But she couldn't, not while under Kane's oath of secrecy. "Dad, do you remember when you would come home after work and we'd watch soccer game reruns with Wells and Thelonius?"
Her dad chuckled on the other end. "Of course. You and Wells always had bets going on even though me and Thelonius knew how they would end."
"But you still let us bet. Why?"
"Because I wanted you to learn to trust your gut." She heard him sigh on the other end. "Listen to me, Clarke. You have always done what you are told and while I'm proud of how well you listen to those around you, I need you to start trusting yourself. You have a smart head on your shoulders. Trust it. Trust your gut. Trust your power, my sweet kid."
Clarke nodded against the phone and swallowed a cry that almost escaped. She opened her lips, letting the air out and wiped under her eyes, clearing the smudged mascara. "I'm on my way home," she said to her dad.
"Okay, honey. And Clarke?"
"Yeah, dad?"
"I love you."
Clarke smiled. "I love you too, dad. I'll be home soon."
The line cut out so quick she wasn't even sure her dad had heard the last part. Clarke set her phone down and made her way back home. The entire way there, Clarke kept repeating the scene in her head. Octavia's fear moments before dragging her under, seeing her thrash around for help, then Bellamy jumping in, the look of betrayal and hatred in his glare. Trust your gut, her dad had said. Clarke tried to figure out what her gut had been telling her in that moment by the pool and, to be honest with herself, Clarke was sure her gut was telling her to keep Octavia under. How could that be possible? How could her gut be telling her to drown Octavia, even now in the car, her gut was telling her that she had done what was needed, what was right. But then Bellamy's face would come into her mind again. Then Clarke felt her eyes tear up again. How they had gone from making out in his kitchen to him kicking her out the next moment, and his parting words. Clarke couldn't shake those words either. She had a feeling this day would haunt her for a while, maybe even forever.
"Dad? I'm home!" she called once she made her way inside. She took the stairs upstairs two at a time before making it to her room. She discarded Octavia's bathing suit for a sports bra, loose shirt, and a pair of yoga pants. Tossing her hair into a messy bun, she made her way down to hall, thinking her dad would no doubt be in his study.
"Dad?" she called again. "Hey, can we watch one of those rerun soccer games, I'll even let you bet on the winning team and I'll feign ignorance," she teased. She pushed his already open study door further out.
She halted at the threshold. A broken sob escaped her lips, then an ear-curdling scream. "Dad!" She ran forward, trying not to slip on the blood splattered on the floor. "Oh, fates, no," she sobbed. Clarke knelt beside his chair, not even caring when her knees made a noise stepping in the pool of blood there. She cradled her dad's face between her palms but tried not to jostle him.
His throat had been slit.
His blood was still running down his throat.
The kill was fresh.
And all Clarke could do was sob, loud and angry.
If you're not careful, your lies will end up killing someone.
AN: Reviews fuel the story. Seriously. So, how'd ya'll like this chapter? It was seriously my favorite chapter to write so far. The next few chapters are going to be so hard for these characters. But we'll get the rest of the gang back in on the action too. Thanks for reading!