There was a loud ringing in Clarke's ears. It was so insistent that it drowned out everything else around her. Her eyes narrowed into tunnel vision. All she could see was her dad sitting in his chair, throat slit open, blood everywhere. Her knees had gone numb at some point but she couldn't remember when. Something warm touched her shoulder, making her flinch. But she still refused to move her gaze from her dad.
"Clarke?" the voice said.
It came out sounding disoriented though, like trying to speak under water.
"Clarke, can you move?"
She shook her head. She wasn't sure she could move. Part of her didn't want to.
"Clarke, we need to move now. We have to go."
Someone grabbed her under her arms, trying to heave her up. That made Clarke snap.
She threw herself at her dad's feet. "No!" she screamed. "I can't move."
Things started to blur into focus again. Clarke noticed the water coating the floor and she turned her head to see where it was coming from. The walls, she realized, where the pipes were. Had she done that? She couldn't remember. But the metallic smell of blood still made her grip her dad's legs, refusing to leave.
"Clarke," said the voice again.
When she turned, she realized it was Jasper. And behind him stood his best friend, Monty.
They both crouched on the floor in front of her, hands out as if trying to placate a wild animal. Maybe that's what Clarke was.
"I know you're hurting," Jasper said. "But we can't stay here forever."
A whimper escaped her before the tears followed the sound. Clarke swallowed it back and wiped at her eyes. "Why not?"
"We should lay your father to rest, don't you think?"
Lay him to rest, she repeated. There was no peace in this. No, she told herself. The only peace to be granted would be in Cage's death. There was no doubt in Clarke's mind that this was all Cage's doing. She raised her head again, looking into her dad's still open eyes. There was still so much she needed him for, so much she wanted to share with him. But she kept it all in. And now she wouldn't have a chance.
"You're right," she said finally. "He needs rest."
Clarke rose up to her feet, laying a hand out on the desk to help steady her weak knees. Her hand stuck to some of her dad's paper work but her eye had caught a torn sheet on the edge of the desk. Her mind couldn't rest, even now, and so she looked at what was written there.
It was an address. And one she recognized. She turned her head slightly to see if Jasper or Monty had noticed it, but they were busy calling someone on the phone.
She faced her dad again and, gritting her teeth and biting back the tears, she reached forward to close his eyes. "May we meet again," she whispered for him. She knew he wouldn't get the same burial her and her people received, but as far as Clarke was concerned, her dad was her people. Clarke was just starting to realize the double meaning in fighting for your people.
Two days had passed. Two days and Clarke couldn't seem to get herself out of bed. She and her mom had been staying at Kane's manor for the time being and Clarke was content to keep herself in the room they placed her in, ignoring the world. Except it was the day of her dad's funeral.
She sat on her bed in her finely pressed black dress and black pumps, her black hair was pulled into a tight pony tail because she couldn't be bothered to brush it out. She hadn't let anyone in to help her even though they offered, several times. She also didn't bother with make up. She just wanted it to all be over.
Her phone buzzed on the dresser by the window but Clarke didn't even flinch. It had gone off a few times throughout the day but she couldn't get herself to get up and pick up, or even sit up and give a shit that it was going off.
She didn't let her mind wonder to anything. She blocked out all thoughts involving Cage, her powers, Bellamy, Octavia, even Lincoln. When her phone rang again, she had half a mind to reach across and throw it to the wall. But that would require her to move. She wasn't ready to yet.
A light knock came from the door.
"Clarke?" Jasper. "There's someone here to see you."
Please don't be Bellamy, Clarke prayed. Her prayers were answered. It wasn't Bellamy. It was Lincoln.
Lincoln was dressed in his fancy pants and button up black shirt. Clarke watched him move across the room in record time before his arms engulfed her. Lincoln hated the tension in her body from his embrace but he didn't let her go. He heard the door shut as he caressed her back. "I've been calling," he said. "I was so worried. I didn't want to just show up at your house in case your mom was there."
Abby had never taken a liking to Lincoln, especially after she heard that he was involved in Evan's gang along with Clarke. Abby blamed Lincoln for that.
"I even went to your mate's house," he said.
Clarke stiffened even more in his arms. Lincoln pulled back.
"Did you tell him anything?" she asked, her voice coming out scratchy, raw.
"About your dad? No, I didn't even know. But I don't think he's fond of me. He punched me when I said who I was."
Despite her feelings, despite all the shit going on around her, Clarke smiled. Bellamy had that power over her. But he wanted nothing to do with her.
Lincoln's finger went under Clarke's chin and he met her gaze. "I'm so sorry about your dad, Clarke. He was a good person. The best."
Clarke nodded, swallowing back the sob that wanted to break free. And she knew that, that her dad was a good person. He had always wanted to take care of other people. He didn't care if they were witch or human. In fact, despite all the restrictions placed on him, for being married to Abby, for being part of their world but never fully in it, he still treated everyone in the coven kindly. The amount of times Clarke would hear whispers about him when everyone thought she wasn't listening made her pissed. But her dad always advocated for peace, for the freedom of speech everyone had. He didn't want them to stoop to their level.
"You need to help Octavia," Clarke said.
"What's wrong with Octavia?" Lincoln said, suddenly more on edge than before.
Clarke placed a hand over Lincoln's. "I awakened her, Linc. She needs someone there to help guide her through the changes."
Lincoln blinked several times at the news. "She what? I mean, I sensed something but I didn't think-" he cut off. "Shit, Clarke." He rubbed his neck.
A small smile touched the corners of Clarke's mouth, the first time in days, when she thought of Octavia's eyes shining with Aquaria. "She has Aquaria, Linc."
He smiled more fully, feeling like he had to smile for Clarke too. She didn't know too many Aquarias and the few she did know feared her. "Why are you sending me? We'll both go. After today, you and I will go check on her," Lincoln said.
Clarke was already shaking her head before Lincoln finished. "I can't." She contemplated telling Lincoln the full story of what had happened with Octavia and Bellamy but a part of her feared what Lincoln would think of her.
"I don't understand. Don't you want to make sure she's okay? Help her?"
"Of course I do," Clarke argued. "But," she hesitated. "Bellamy kind of banned me from them."
"Banned you?"
Clarke sighed. She would have to tell Lincoln, there was no choice. Lincoln wouldn't let it go until he got a satisfying answer. "I had orders to wake her up, Linc. I was given very strict orders to do so by any means. I had no choice." Clarke ducked her head down, thinking by avoiding Lincoln's gaze it would help ease some of her guilt.
But she heard Lincoln sigh and curse under his breath and Clarke could feel his disappointment radiating off of him. She was already pulling away from his embrace when his arms shot forward again and crushed her to his chest.
"Don't blame yourself, Clarke. You did what you had to. And you woke Octavia up. She was born for this world and now she can find her rightful place," he said, crushing her even tighter to his chest. It was almost like Lincoln was trying to squeeze the guilt out of her and Clarke had to appreciate his efforts. She only wished it was that simple.
"Either way. I can't go back. Bellamy told me to stay away and after what I did to her…" she trailed off. "They don't want to see me. But I still need to make sure that Octavia is taken care of. She's going to have a lot of questions and trouble getting a handle on her powers. I need you to help. She knows you. You're a familiar face. She'll trust you."
"I know," Lincoln sighed. "But it should be you. I know you say that you're banned from them, but you and I both know that the bond shared between a witch and the one who awakens them is a special and strong bond. Or at least it can be. It won't mean the same coming from me," he said.
"Please, Linc," Clarke sighed. She rubbed a hand over her forehead and it was the first move she made since she sat on that bed. Her moves felt stiff and she made a mental note to move around more.
"Alright," he said. "I'll go." Lincoln hated that he would be leaving Clarke to go through her dad's funeral, but she had asked this of him. She needed him to do this. So Lincoln rose from the bed, placed a gentle kiss to Clarke's hair, and left. He hoped she would make it through this, but Lincoln had no doubts when it came to Clarke's strength. He only hoped that she realized just how strong she could be.
Bellamy came into the kitchen, phone in one hand, and take out menu in the other. "Hey, O, do you want-"
"Ah," Octavia screamed, obviously caught off guard by Bellamy's entrance. She jumped and in the process the sink faucet came bursting off the sink and flying into the air. It hit the counter with a loud clank and water spewed everywhere.
"Damn it!" she groaned. She and Bellamy rushed to the sink, one trying to stop the water by putting her hand over it, and the other reaching for the faucet on the counter. Bellamy jammed the faucet back over the bursting water and slammed his palm down over it, making sure it was secure in its place. He turned the faucet on to test the waters and thankfully it was working properly.
"You okay?" he asked.
Octavia hesitated. She wanted to assure her brother that she was fine, but truth be told, Octavia was freaking out. She didn't understand what was happening to her and Bellamy's cliff-notes version of what she was and what world she was now part of just wasn't giving her the comfort she needed. But Octavia would never voice that aloud because that meant admitting that turning Clarke away was a mistake. And frankly, she wasn't sure how she felt about Clarke at the moment.
"I'm fine," she finally answered.
A knock came from the door, scaring Octavia and setting the faucet bursting from the sink all over again. She groaned as the water jettisoned out of the sink and sprayed both her and Bellamy.
"Fix that," Bellamy said, pointing to the sink. "I'll get the door." Bellamy looked through the peephole on the door and groaned when he saw Lincoln through the hole.
"What do you want?" Bellamy demanded.
"Cool your head, officer. I'm not here to see you," Lincoln bit out. He couldn't help being pissed at Bellamy for turning Clarke away. On the drive over, Lincoln tried to understand Bellamy's point of view, and he did, but he was born and raised in the same world Clarke grew up in. He had to make some of the same sacrifices Clarke had. He understood. And for that, he was pissed at Bellamy for Clarke being riddled with guilt. It should be her at his front door. It should be her helping Octavia.
"If you think I'm going to let you in then you are dumber than you look," Bellamy said.
In the kitchen, Octavia groaned in frustration. "Fucking sink!"
"Language," Bellamy reprimanded.
Lincoln chuckled as he watched Octavia fumble with the faucet. "That's not going to help," he said.
Octavia finally abandoned the sink and turned her gaze to Lincoln. She couldn't help the way her eyes widened and the smile that stretched her face. "Lincoln," Octavia smiled. "What are you doing here?"
"Clarke sent me," he answered.
Bellamy stiffened. Octavia on the other hand, raced forward, shoving Bellamy out of the way and letting Lincoln in through the door. She shut it behind him. "Are you like her?" Octavia hesitated. "Like me?"
Lincoln stepped forward, coming closer. "Not exactly like you, but we are part of the same world."
Octavia's heart sped up. The words he chose, saying they were now part of the same world, the same group, it made Octavia feel included. Like she mattered.
"Okay, no," Bellamy said. He grabbed hold of Lincoln's collar and yanked him back, slamming him against the wall. "You need to leave."
"Bellamy!" Octavia scolded. "Stop it."
"No, O. This is enough. I'm sick of these freaks showing up here and shoving their way into our lives!"
Octavia crossed her arms. "Stop it, Bell! I AM one of those freaks."
Bellamy's hand curled into fists. "I didn't mean you."
"But that's the reality of it, isn't it? I am part of them now, Bell. You'll always mean me when you say things like that."
Bellamy released Lincoln to turn toward Octavia. He held his hands out in defeat. "You're not like them, O. You wouldn't lie to me, or those you care about. You wouldn't sacrifice me or a loved one just for some damn coven or leader or whatever shit Clarke used as an excuse." Bellamy huffed, getting heated over his own hatred toward Clarke. It was an odd sensation to describe. But Bellamy was madder at himself for being mad at Clarke. He just couldn't help it. And it only got worse when just a few days ago he felt a huge fucking tear in his chest. Like whatever connection he had established with Clarke was splintered, or breaking. But he couldn't be sure that's what the pain in his chest meant. He refused to acknowledge it though. So he gritted his teeth and ran a hand roughly through his hair. "Clarke took the cowards way out of this. Her cowardess almost killed you."
Suddenly Bellamy was airborne. The strength it took to lift him from the ground and propel him through the air was something a normal human couldn't do. And Bellamy was powerless. His back hit the wall, his head bouncing off it too. He vaguely heard Octavia scream and swore he heard the shower go off but Lincoln's face was crowding Bellamy's space before he could think about it.
"You do not talk about her that way," Lincoln growled. "You have no idea the sacrifices she has had to make. Or the sacrifices she's making now."
Bellamy tried to push Lincoln away. "Her sacrifices?" he said, outraged. "Like the sacrifice to kill a coven leader and end up killing everyone tied to him? Or the sacrifice to hide away with a shit guy like Evan and do more bad things? Or how about the sacrifice she made to lie to my face and then almost kill my sister?" Bellamy was on a role. He didn't even care that Lincoln was glaring so fiercely at him. He continued anyway. "Her 'sacrifices,'" he mocked. "They will end up hurting someone much closer to her."
"It already has," Lincoln seethed.
"What?" Bellamy stopped struggling against Lincoln. "What do you mean?"
Lincoln snarled before bringing his face closer. "If you had taken the time to see things from Clarke's perspective, and get your head out of your ass, maybe you'd know just how much she's hurting right now." Lincoln almost came out and said the truth. But Clarke made it seem like she didn't want Bellamy to know. Lincoln personally thought that was a load of shit but he held his tongue.
Bellamy had a nagging feeling in his chest, in the same place where that pain from earlier had erupted, that he was missing something vital. But as always, his mouth was working a lot faster than his brain. "If you ask me, she deserves that hurt."
The next thing Bellamy knew, there was a mind-blowing pain across his jaw. And he was on the floor. He couldn't hear any noise for a couple seconds and his jaw seriously felt displaced. But as he groaned, feeling slowly came back to his face. He moved his jaw, testing if it was broken. It seemed fine. But there was blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
Lincoln appeared over him with Octavia hanging off his arm, trying to hold him back. But Lincoln wasn't letting up. He pointed a finger at Bellamy. "How can you even say that about your soulmate?"
The word slammed into Bellamy's chest and, for just a second, Bellamy thought he had been punched in the chest too. That pain he felt there a few days ago came back ten fold. It was tugging at him, pulling on the strings that ached for Clarke's soul, for her heart.
"Let me explain something to you," Lincoln said. "In our world, we are raised with the notion that sacrifices must always be made. It is how we maintain our secrecy, how we keep our loved ones safe, if you can believe that. Our secrets are secrets for your protection. We share what we can and we filter the rest. That's how we live. Breaching that rule, it doesn't just mean a clear heart and mind. It means the death of our loved ones. And just a few days ago, Clarke learned that the hard way."
"What do you mean?" Bellamy asked, rising to his knees. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him he wouldn't like the answer.
"You need to understand something. When Clarke's mom married Jake, it went against all the rules. He's not a witch and he's not Abby's soulmate. But she chose him anyway. And Abby was selfish with him. She loved him in ways our kind can't for the sake of our secrecy. She shared too much with him and, in turn, so did Clarke."
"What are you saying, Lincoln? Spit it out." Bellamy rose to his feet.
"Clarke's father is dead."
Bellamy staggered. No, he told himself. There was no way. Bellamy had worked with Jake Griffin at one point at the precinct. Jake was a good person, one of the best. There was no way that he was dead. It couldn't be that easy to take someone so kind-hearted and good from the world. He shook his head. "When?" he managed to get out.
"Two days ago. Clarke found him in his study."
"Shit," Bellamy muttered under his breath. Clarke had found him. If Bellamy was already hating himself for all the shit that happened and missing Clarke, his guilt was eating him alive now. He remembered the last words he had said to her. And fuck if he didn't feel like absolute shit.
He shook his head. "She didn't tell me. She didn't." Of course she didn't, he scolded himself. He had told her to stay away from them.
"Even in her grief, she sent me here. She understands what Octavia is going through," Lincoln said, tilting his head toward a tear-streaked Octavia. "She knows how scared she must be feeling, how confused, and frustrated. But she couldn't fathom the idea that Octavia would have to face all this alone. She is still willing to put the people she cares about above her needs. She has always done that."
Bellamy cursed. He had fucked up so royally. While he was still mad that Clarke had almost killed his sister, he did believe her, despite it all, that she wouldn't have actually killed her. He recounted that day so many times in his head. Clarke had said from the beginning that there were things she wouldn't be able to tell him until later, until it was okay and safe to do so. And he agreed to it! Yet he went and got pissed that she held back. They had so much to talk about. But for now, he knew he would need to swallow his pride and get to her. Now.
Clarke's fingers dug into the pile of dirt beside her dad's casket. She wasn't completely used to normal human funerals. Their kind called for the burning of the body and a long night full of prayer, begging the Fates to guide the spirit and element of the deceased to the stars. Because of that, it was easy to spot the witches in attendance. Not that they were unfamiliar with the ritual, but it always left them feeling a little uneasy.
Not Clarke though. She wasn't sure what she was feeling. Her dad deserved this rest, of course. But is this what he would have wanted? Despite the coven turning him away because he wasn't one of them, her dad fully considered himself part of their world. He knew about their traditions. Would this be what he wanted? Clarke bit her tongue because the truth was she would never get the answer to that question. Her dad was gone. She understood that. But when she sprinkled the top of his casket with the dirt, she wanted to call out for him. He's right there, her mind yelled at her. He's not gone. He's just inside that box.
Clarke took a breath as she watched her mom do the same with the dirt. But it suddenly felt like Clarke couldn't breathe, like her lungs had forgotten their purpose. She turned away, moving past the crowds that showed up for her dad. She recognized people from the precinct. Captain Jaha was there and expressed his deepest condolences while apologizing that his son couldn't be there. But Clarke hadn't talked to Wells in years so she wasn't surprised.
Faces had blurred as she continued to make her way. The further and further she moved from her dad's casket, the harder it got for her to breathe. And having all these people showering her with condolences and pity looks was just smothering her even more. The next thing Clarke knew, she was bracing herself against a tree, letting the shadows keep her hidden for a few moments. She just needed to fucking breathe. A simple action had never been so difficult before.
"Clarke?" a voice interrupted her quiet.
She didn't bother looking toward the voice. She recognized it as Finn's. But she wasn't in the mood to pretend around him.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay. You kind of look like you're about to pass out," he said.
Well no shit, Sherlock, she wanted to say. But she bit her tongue. She had to focus on breathing anyway. "I'm fine," she managed.
"I'm real sorry about your dad. He was a good man." Then Clarke felt a hand on her shoulder.
She flinched instinctively, only the tiny bit concerned that Finn would take that move the wrong way. But then she remembered that breathing was difficult.
"I'm here for you," Finn continued.
Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and a whimper left her before she could stop it. Finn was only making this worse. She didn't want Finn there. Clarke knew damn well who she needed there with her, and there was no way that was happening.
Clarke was slowly breaking and she feared if Finn opened his mouth again, she'd completely lose it. So she pushed off the tree, squared her shoulders, and faced Finn. "Thanks," she said, stepping away.
Finn's hand shot out before she could move though. She yelped, not because he hurt her or anything, but because his touch wasn't the touch she wanted. But he was the only one there and that fact kept shoving itself in Clarke's face.
"Collins."
Clarke actually stopped breathing that time. She snapped her eyes shut again and shook her head. No. Her mind was playing tricks with her and that was damn cruel. Because there was no way Bellamy was standing in front of her.
"Blake," she heard Finn say. His hand hadn't moved from her forearm yet.
"I've got it from here," is all he said. His tone left no room for argument and Finn bristled. What right did Bellamy have to order Finn around, Finn wondered. But Finn got his answer fairly quickly.
Clarke finally allowed herself to look in Bellamy's direction and the moment her eyes locked on his, his were already watching hers. His face was blank. He didn't seem angry or mad. He was just there. Exactly what Clarke needed. And she broke the fuck down. A sob broke from her lips and she took a shaky step forward trying to get to Bellamy. But her legs failed her, her cries consuming her, and she fell to her knees on the ground. Bellamy was there in a heartbeat wrapping his arms around her suddenly small and frail frame. She shook in his arms and Bellamy swallowed. He had a feeling she would need him and that her breaking down was a very likely possibility. There was something about being in each other's arms that made it okay to lose control.
In Bellamy's arms it was safe for Clarke to break.
"Shh," he said. "I've got you." He lowered his tone for her and rubbed circles into her back.
Finn watched it unfold. He couldn't believe that Blake, his partner of all people, would move in on Clarke when Blake knew how he felt about her. But even worse, Finn hated that he was letting it get to him at Jake's funeral. It wasn't the time or place. So, with one last look at Clarke, her face practically buried in Bellamy's chest, he left them.
Bellamy felt the trembles tearing through Clarke's body one cry at a time and he knew she'd eventually cry herself out. He braced his arms under her legs and lifted her off the ground. He cradled her head against his chest where she immediately latched on, gripping his neck and continuing her cries. Everyone was staring at them, waiting to see how it would all go down. But Bellamy wasn't planning on giving them a show.
He caught Abby's gaze among the crowd. With a slight nod to her head, Abby told Bellamy to get Clarke out of there. She knew her daughter would be better off with Bellamy than staring blankly at a wall in Kane's manor.
Bellamy didn't waste another second. He took off with Clarke in his arms and slid in his truck with her still cradled to him. He shifted in the seats to rest her on his lap, her legs tucked over his thighs, and then he started the engine. For a second her cries were muffled by the loud start of the engine, but then it lowered to a dull rumble and her cries triumphed over.
Maneuvering his arms around her, he shifted gears until he was in drive and headed back toward his apartment.
Clarke was in and out of it since she looked into Bellamy's eyes at the cemetery. She wasn't sure where she was only that the steady roll of the car was lulling her into sleep. But her tears wouldn't stop. They just kept coming. The sun had gone down by the time they made it back to his apartment but the lights on overhead in the parking garage felt too bright to Clarke's puffy eyes. She burrowed further into Bellamy's chest. She waited for him to move her, or disentangle her arms from his neck, but instead he turned the car off and wrapped his arms around her. His sympathy, his strength, he was giving it all to her and that only made it harder for Clarke to handle. He didn't have to be there, didn't have to come get her from the cemetery, or even let her cry into his shirt. But he did.
Because Bellamy Blake was a good person.
Just like her dad.
Clarke knew that Bellamy and her dad had worked together at some point, but she had a feeling that if she had introduced Bellamy as something more, then Jake would have loved him like a son.
"You think?" he whispered against her hair.
Had Clarke said that out loud? She sniffled and took a breath to help compose herself at least somewhat. She had been crying for so long.
"Where are we?" Her voice sounded so small and frail. It twisted Bellamy's heart a bit because he knew she was stronger than this. But even the strongest person needed to break down once in a while. So he tightened his arms around her.
"My place. Come on," he said, opening the door. "You should rest."
Clarke could already feel her eyes closing, so she followed him out of the truck. Her steps were sluggish and Bellamy seriously thought she would pass out on the steps if he didn't pay close attention.
They both remained quiet on their way up, but something shifted in the air. Now that Clarke wasn't breaking in Bellamy's arms it felt like there was too many words that needed to be exchanged between them. Neither of them knew how to approach it though.
Clarke barely made it into the kitchen before Octavia was there. Octavia stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway to her bedroom. She made no move to actually go to Clarke even though she wanted to. She really wanted to give Clarke a hug but Octavia wasn't exactly sure where things stood between them, or Bellamy and Clarke for that matter.
"I'm sorry about your dad," Octavia said. Her eyes softened and she gave Clarke a weak smile.
But that weak smile turned Clarke the wrong way. Especially those eyes. Maybe Octavia didn't mean it, but she brought the truth out to Clarke – a truth that maybe she had been ignoring from the moment she collapsed in Bellamy's arms.
She saw pity in Octavia's eyes. She was apologizing and giving her a weak smile because she felt sorry for Clarke. Clarke turned a head to Bellamy who was watching Octavia the whole time, a stern look on his face. Yeah, he was still pissed. So he went to Clarke out of pity too? Clarke couldn't handle it.
She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat and shook her head slightly. "You know, I think I'm just going to head back to Kane's," she said.
"Hold on there, Princess," said Bellamy. The nickname just about stabbed Clarke in the heart. As it is, she clutched at her chest feeling like it would be better to just rip the damn thing right out of her instead.
"Thanks for coming to the funeral," Clarke said to Bellamy. "And for getting me out of there. But I'm going to go back to Kane's now." She had to get out of there and fast or else she'd lose it all over again.
"You're gonna runaway now?" Bellamy couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice even if he tried. He had gone through the trouble of going to her after he said he didn't want to see her, let her cry in his arms, took her to his apartment where his sister was, a sister he told Clarke to stay away from, and now she was just going to leave? But that was just it. Bellamy didn't see it as 'going through the trouble.' And that's what allowed Bellamy to fight through his anger and frustration. He did all those things because he loved her. Because she was his mate. That wasn't something he could just turn away from.
"I'm not running anywhere," Clarke argued.
"No? Off to your palace where King Kane can protect you?" Bellamy had to struggle to keep himself in check. He may love her, but he was still angry.
Clarke's eyes narrowed through another set of tears that were threatening to burst free and Bellamy feared he hit a chord. A chord that maybe he shouldn't have hit.
"Yeah, where he can protect me!" she screamed. "Me. Because Fates know I can't protect myself. I can't even protect the people I care about! So, yes, I'm off to the one place where I can be left alone because I'm protected." Clarke could feel her tears flowing openly. No use in hiding them anymore because everything was coming up to the surface now. She was fucking destroyed at the funeral. And for the last couple days she had been void. But now she was feeling everything all at once, her anger, her hatred. How could the Fates take her dad from her?
She pushed past Bellamy and headed straight for the door but Bellamy couldn't let her go. Not now. It took three strides for him to catch up with her and he threw his arms around her from behind, crushing her to his chest.
"I can protect you, Clarke," he whispered into her ear. "Let me protect you." He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and she felt herself relax for just a moment, but then she fought against his hold, thrashing in his arms.
"No!" she cried. "I'll get you killed too!"
"You won't, you won't," he chanted, tightening his arms around her.
Clarke continued to struggle against him. Her heart craved his comfort but her mind kept telling her to pull away. She didn't need his pity or his death on her hands. "I will," she sobbed.
Bellamy gripped her chin in his hand and forced her head to the side, making her look him in the eye. "Clarke Elizabeth Griffin, I promise you, I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you, not while I'm around." He dug his fingers through her hair, holding her in place with tight arms and eager hands.
She tried to shake her head but she found she couldn't move it enough to shake it with Bellamy's hand holding her in place. "Not like this," she muttered so low Bellamy almost missed it.
"Not like what?" he asked. He waited but her tears kept coming and she kept trying to shake free. "Please, Clarke. Talk to me. Let me in," he begged. His lips trailed across her forehead as he pleaded with her.
"I don't want what happened to my dad to be the reason I'm back here talking to you," she finally managed. She had to take deep breathes in between the words to stump some of her cries but she managed it. She raised her head, lips barely touching the underside of Bellamy's jaw. "I don't want to be here because you pity me or feel sorry about what happened."
Bellamy turned Clarke around in his arms so suddenly that she yelped in the turn. His arms became like a vise around her yet again and his hand was still threading through her hair, forcing her gaze to his.
"Clarke," he said, kissing her forehead. "You're here because I need you. Because you need me. We're soulmates. We need each other."
The truth of it made Clarke's chest ache but she didn't fight the pain anymore. She let it loose and fell limp against Bellamy's chest. He carried her into his bedroom, only sparing a quick glance to Octavia who poked her head back out from her room and let her know that Clarke was okay. Or at least she would be.
He settled Clarke on the bed, helping her remove her clothes and put her in one of his old college t-shirts. He tried his damn near hardest to not completely ogle Clarke as he helped her shed her clothes. But he stroked the soft skin of her thighs once she had the shirt on and they both sighed together at the contact.
Bellamy tucked Clarke in on one side of the bed before getting rid of his own clothes and climbing in on the other side. They faced each other on the bed, a few inches of space between them, but then Bellamy wrapped a tentative arm around Clarke's waist. She took the encouragement and snuggled in closer to his warmth.
"Bell," she said against the skin of his neck.
He fought the shiver but was still sure she felt it. "Yeah?"
"It was my fault." Her voice cracked.
Bellamy wasn't sure if she was talking about what had happened to her dad or at the pool with Octavia a few days ago. But either way, his heart hurt knowing his princess thought it was all her fault.
"No it's not," he said. "But why don't you try sleeping for now? We'll talk about it in the morning."
He caressed her cheek and then moved lower, caressing her arm and then lower still until he could draw slow circles on her back. The action was lulling Clarke to sleep, and coupled with the exhaustion she felt from all her crying, Clarke knocked out fast.
While Bellamy watched Clarke's breathing even out, he knew in that moment that no matter what else got thrown at them, they would always find a way back to each other.
A/N: Wow, this might be the longest chapter yet. I thought about splitting it up but the way I have things split in my general outline of the story, it would have just dragged the story out and I don't want that. Especially because I've recently realized just how long this story is going to be (oops). So, I hope you'll stick around for the fun! We've got some Octavia training to go through, some Bellarke fluff, some good smut, and then the big show down to go. Be sure to REVIEW. I loved hearing from ya'll about the last chapter. Let me know your thoughts! Where do you think the story is going? What are some of your predictions/what are you hoping for these characters? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Till next time!