A/N: First of all, I decided that there will be another chapter to this story, so y'all can look forward to three more instead of two more. Yay!

This chapter is sad, but I enjoyed writing it. For some reason I really enjoy writing sad, emotional things because apparently I hate everything.

I hope you enjoy it.

On February 15th, just as she was about to fall into bed after a long shift at the hospital, Clarke received a text from Octavia.

'Don't kno if Bell has told you (probably not bc you 2 are idiots) but tomorrow is a tough day for us. My mom died on the 16th ten years ago. Ill be by in the morning we always go to the cemetery and then the lake. Just so you kno.'

After replying with a short, 'Ok, I'm really sorry. I'm here if you need me,' Clarke lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She wanted to go talk to Bellamy, go do something to distract him from his thoughts or just be there fore him, but she wasn't sure if they were close enough to still do that sort of thing. With a heavy sigh, she flung her hand over her eyes as her thoughts drifted to her father. Bellamy had been there for her on November 12 when she marked the anniversary of losing a parent, it didn't seem right for her to be absent when he went through the same grief. Yanking the blanket up over herself, Clarke resolved to be there for Bellamy tomorrow. No matter how distant they had gotten over the past month, it wasn't right to leave him high and dry on a day like that.

When she got up the next morning Bellamy was already gone. Clarke sat at the kitchen table eating her cheerios and wondering if Aurora Blake had sat at the same table once. She didn't know a lot about the woman that raised Bellamy and Octavia, only the bits and pieces Bellamy and Octavia had shared and her own inferences from things around the house.

She did know what Aurora had done in order to feed her two kids, but also that she managed to work herself out of it by working as a seamstress at a local dry cleaners a few years after Octavia was born. She knew Aurora loved flowers, liked cheap, touristy paintings of beaches (they were all over the house), floral patterns, and Jane Austen novels. Most of all, Clarke knew that her children adored her and that she must have been a wonderful mother, despite the circumstances she had found herself in.

Her phone buzzed on the table, waking Clarke out of her thoughts. It was Lexa.

'Hey babe, since you have the day off want to go into the city? Belated Valentine's lunch on me.'

Clarke stared at the phone for a while and pushed the last few bits of cereal around in her bowl. Slumping back in her chair, she sighed. She didn't feel like doing anything today. Aurora may not have been her mother, she may not have even known her, but some how the woman seemed to be part of Clarke's life. More importantly, Clarke wanted to be there when Bellamy and Octavia got back, just in case they needed someone to talk to.

'No, busy today.'

Clarke frowned at what she had written, her finger hovering over the send button. It seemed harsh and cold in comparison to what Lexa had written, but then again Clarke wasn't sure how she felt about Lexa lately. Yes, she was fun to hang out with and yes the sex was great, but something just didn't feel right. There was a disconnect that Clarke didn't know how to bridge. Not to mention how Lexa seemed way more into Clarke than she was into Lexa. Despite all her lecturing about love being weakness and life being more fun without emotional attachment, Lexa was clearly very attached. With another great sigh Clarke hit send and pushed her chair back, taking her bowl over to the sink.

Walking into the living room, Clarke threw herself onto a couch and stared up at the ceiling. It was just one of those days where everything felt cloudy and tired. She didn't feel like doing anything, not even moving. Her phone buzzed again from where it had fallen on the floor causing Clarke to throw an arm over her eyes. She just didn't want to deal with Lexa. To her annoyance, however, the phone continued to buzz indicating a call rather than a text. Expecting it to be Lexa, Clarke groaned and hit answer without looking at who it was.

"What?"

There was a pause on the other line. "Clarke?" With a start she realized it was Wells.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Wells. I thought it was someone else."

"I'm sure, because there are so many people in your life named Wells," he replied, laughter in his voice.

"I'm just having a shitty day okay, I'm sorry." She knew he was joking, but Clarke was irrationally irritated.

"Okay, point taken," Wells said, more serious. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Clarke replied. She didn't feel like going into the details of Bellamy and Octavia's mourning or her frustration with Lexa or how much she hated how distant she and Bellamy had become. She still hadn't told Wells about the kiss and that was the last thing she felt like discussing now. "Its just one of those days, you know? What about you? Why did you call?"

"Well, I called to give you some warning."

"What?"

"I had dinner at my dad's last night. Your mom and Kane were there. Apparently your mom is planning on coming to visit you towards the end of the month. She is going to call you sometime soon to let you know."

"What do you mean 'to let me know? Has it already been completely decided without my say?'"

"Uh… yeah. That's why I wanted to let you know before, so you have some time to figure stuff out. She said last night that she wasn't sure if you would want her there-"

"Damn right."

"-so she just went ahead and bought a plane ticket and booked a hotel in the city and is coming one way or another. She is seeing a therapist now, some lady named Indra, who told her to be direct with you about what she wants and what she wants is to see you."

Clarke groaned. "Does she not realize how crazy my work schedule is? Plus the last thing I need right now is to fight with her. She isn't going to like where I live or who I live with or who my friends are or where I work."

"Hey, now. She likes Bellamy and I'm sure she will like Octavia too."

"She appreciates what Bellamy did for me, driving me up to DC and all, but I'm not sure she likes him. And about that… I kind of haven't mentioned it to you but Octavia moved out, like a month ago."

"What?"

"She got engaged and wanted to move in with Lincoln."

"So its just you and Bellamy?"

"Yep."

Wells was silent for a moment. "Your mom is not going to like that."

"I know. I can hear her now. 'But what will the neighbors think, Clarke! You must be having tons of sex with that boy who isn't related to a politician or billionaire and therefore not worthy!'"

Wells chuckled on the other line. "You nailed it. Are you?"

"Am I what?" Clarke asked, readjusting herself on the couch so she was sitting up.

"Are you and Bellamy, you know…"

"Wells you are 26, I think you can say sex."

"Don't avoid the question, Griffin. What I told you in DC still stands. He likes you as more than a friend or a roommate. I imagine even more now that you have lived together longer and are now living alone together." Clarke was silent for a moment; she bit her lip while debating how to answer. "Clarke?"

"Yeah I'm here."

"Well?"

"This is gross, you are like my brother I don't want to talk about this with you."

"Seriously Clarke? You are 26 and you can't talk about sex?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Shut up. No we are not hooking up. In fact, we are both seeing different people."

"Oh." Wells was quiet for a moment. "Well, there you go."

"What?"

"Your mom wont be convinced you are sleeping together if you both are seeing other people."

"Yes but the problem is the person I am seeing is a woman and my mom is still in that 'oh Clarke its just a phase' thing as far as I know."

Wells sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Griffin. Hopefully it will go better than you expect."

"Maybe. Hey maybe pigs will learn how to fly soon."

"Ha ha, very funny Clarke." She heard muffled voices on Well's line. "Hey, I have to go, some work emergency."

"Alright, go practice law, leave me to wallow in my misery."

"Its not that bad. She is your mom, Clarke."

"Yeah, okay. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

Clarke dropped the phone back to the floor after hanging up and stared back up at the ceiling again. The last thing she wanted was for her mom to come to Chicago. She had known, when agreeing to rent a room from Octavia, that the neighborhood would have her mother seeing red. Clarke really didn't want to have to deal with all the nit picky comments. With a mournful sigh Clarke heaved herself off the couch and forced herself to go for a run to clear her mind and hopefully improve her mood.

An hour later, as she was getting dressed after her shower, her phone rang again. This time it was her mom. Clarke had thought about the impending visit more during her run and maybe it was the endorphins or the anniversary of Bellamy and Octavia's mother's death, but she had decided to be more optimistic about the visit. She had already lost one parent; it was stupid to act like she didn't have another.

"Hey Mom."

"Clarke, I'm glad I caught you. I thought you might be at work."

"No," she replied while sifting through her drawers. "I have the day off."

"Oh, good. Listen, honey, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Alright."

"I'm going to come up there at the end of the month. From the 28th to the 7th. I already got the plane ticket and hotel."

"Mom… that's great, but I am going to have work and-"

"I know, I know, but there is plenty to do in Chicago when you are busy. I just missed you, honey, and wanted to visit. It was odd to not have you here at Christmas. It didn't feel right and I'm tired of… of how things are with us."

"Okay well…" There was an awkward silence as Clarke tried to think of something to say. "Well, I will try to get some days off then."

"That would be great. I'll email you with my flight information. I think I will rent a car, just to make it easier on you."

"Alright, sounds good."

"See you soon. My break is almost over. I love you."

"Yeah," Clarke said. Sitting on her bed. "Love you too, Mom."

After hanging up Clarke sat on her bed for a while. Her eyes drifted over to the windowsill where a much younger Bellamy had carved his name into the wood. Suddenly tears began to prick at her eyes. He would never have the chance to hear his mother say that she loved him again. Neither would Octavia. She had been really stupid, she realized, to block her mom out so much over the past years. Yes, her feelings of anger and betrayal had been valid, but this was her mother. Abby Griffin wasn't perfect, but she was all Clarke had left of blood relatives. She was the woman who had given Clarke her first paint set, who had watched crappy movies with her at midnight after her first boyfriend broke up with her, who had taken her prom dress shopping and who sang her to sleep when she was little. Maybe it was good she was coming up after all. It wouldn't be perfect, nothing between them was, but it was a step in the right direction.

By 6:00 Bellamy and Octavia still hadn't returned and Clarke conceded that they probably would be back late. She didn't regret spending the day at home, however. It had been nice, in its own way. A break from everything. She ordered a pizza and planted herself in front of the TV just as a Real Housewives marathon began.

Five hours later she was dozing off aas the women on screen fought over some petty issue. Half a cold pizza was still in the box and ice cream was melting in the bowl resting on her stomach. Suddenly Clarke's phone vibrated on the table jolting her awake. She shot up with a start causing the melted desert to spill all over her top.

"Shit," she cursed, reaching around the pizza box for her phone. The name on the screen made her freeze. Bellamy Blake. She muted the TV while pressing answer.

"Bellamy?"

"No, its Nathan."

"Oh, hey. Why are you calling on Bellamy's phone?" Clarke grabbed the bowl and moved into the kitchen. Balancing the phone on her shoulder she grabbed some paper towels and began to wipe off her shirt.

"Well, I didn't have your number and I didn't want to bother Octavia tonight. Monty is at work, Murphy seemed like a shit option, and Raven-"

"What is it, Miller?"

"After he dropped Octavia off at Lincoln's Bellamy picked me up to go get drinks. I assume you know what today is?"

"Yeah, Octavia told me."

"Alright, well he is taking it especially hard this year. I think its because its been ten years now."

Clarke bit her lip in concern. "So what does this have to do with me?" She winced. "I mean, I didn't mean it like-"

"No, I know I'm beating around the bush. He picked me up so I didn't drive here. He shouldn't drive but I also think that he needs to go home."

"He's that drunk?"

"No, well I mean he is drunk but not like… I just think he needs to be home not in a bar right now. He… don't take this the wrong way but he needs you. He won't say it himself, but he told me about the Fourth of July and it really helped him, Clarke. I know things are awkward between you guys now for some reason, but you are good for him when he is like this and-"

"I get it."

"Great, can you pick him up?"

"I don't have a car."

"Right, yeah I know, but Monty said Jasper would be cool with you borrowing his since he only lives a few doors down."

"Monty says that or Jasper says that?"

"Monty but you know how they are. I'm sure its cool. Jasper is chill. Besides, I'm a cop and I say its okay."

"What about getting the key?"

"Oh, shit right. Um, I don't know see if he is home? I tried texting him earlier to ask about the car but he hasn't answered."

"Alright I'll be there soon, text me the address."

"Okay, thanks, Clarke."

"No problem."

After hanging up Clarke ran upstairs to put a clean shirt on. As soon as she looked presentable, she grabbed her purse and left for Jasper's house. It looked almost exactly the same as the Blake's, but was painted blue and had the touch of an older couple to it. After all, Jasper still lived with his parents. Jogging up the stairs, Clarke knocked on the door, wincing at the late hour. After a long moment the door opened to reveal a small, middle aged woman in a nightgown.

"Can I help you?" Fortunately she didn't seem angry, just confused.

"Hello, Mrs. Jordan. I'm really sorry it's so late, but is Jasper here?"

"Well, yes I believe so. One second, dear." Jasper's mother closed the door momentarily but Clarke could hear her calling her son's name through the stained glass window in the wood. A minute later the door opened again, this time to reveal a very confused looking Jasper.

"Hey Clarke, what's up?"

"I need to borrow your car."

"What?"

"Have you not gotten Miller's text?"

"What? No, I've been in the basement playing World of Warcraft with-"

"I need to borrow the car to pick him and Bellamy up at the bar."

"Why do- Oh right because today is-"

"Yeah."

Jasper disappeared for a moment before coming back to the door and handing her his keys. "Be careful with her, she is my pride and joy."

Clarke rolled her eyes but smiled. "Will do, thanks Jasper."

"No problem, good luck."

Minutes later Clarke was pulling into the parking lot of the local bar. She could see Bellamy and Miller arguing out front. Pulling the keys out of the ignition she opened her door and made her way over to them.

"-not even that drunk. And I don't see why someone else can't come get us, I told you not to call-"

Bellamy stopped talking as soon as he saw her, his eyes going wide. Clarke tried to push the hurt down and focus on getting the men home.

"Hey, ready to go?"

"Yeah, Clarke. Thanks for coming," Miller said, throwing Bellamy a look. They followed her back to the car, Bellamy stumbling a bit and leaning on Miller for support. "Do you mind dropping me off too, Clarke? Monty is stuck at work."

"No, not at all," she replied as she slid into the driver's seat. Miller opened the passenger's side for Bellamy before sitting in the backseat.

The drive home was painfully silent. Bellamy leaned his head against the window, staring out into the night. Miller tried to make conversation, asking Clarke about her day, but they quickly ran out of topics. Once they finally reached Miller's apartment building, Clarke couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed. On one hand it made things a little less awkward, on the other it left her alone with Bellamy.

"Night, Clarke. See you, Bellamy."

A few minutes later they pulled up at Jasper's house. Clarke turned the car off and leaned back in her seat. Bellamy hadn't made any sort of move to leave the car. They sat in silence for a minute before Clarke turned to him.

"I need to return his keys," she said as she pulled out her phone to let Jasper know she was there. "I'll be right back." Bellamy's only response was a shallow nod as Clarke left the car. When she came back from giving the keys to Jasper, Bellamy was leaning against the car facing the street. She put a hand on his shoulder and nodded towards their house. "You ready?" He nodded.

As soon as they got home, Bellamy went upstairs to his room leaving Clarke in the living room unsure of what to do. Part of her wanted to give him his space. His body language and actions had clearly indicated he wanted to be alone. But at the same time, Clarke knew Bellamy. She knew how he had faked the smile he gave Octavia on the beach back in July, she knew how he tried to look strong despite how he was feeling. Most of all, she knew that Bellamy handled his feelings best by talking to people about them. Unlike her, he didn't do well with isolation. Finally, she made her mind up to go talk to him. After all, she had promised herself the night before to make an effort to be there for him. Even so, she went to the kitchen first to grab the bottle of scotch she knew Bellamy had above the fridge.

There had been a time when talking to Bellamy seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Now the very thought of it had Clarke's insides twisting in knots. As she ascended the stairs she tried to formulate a plan but her mind kept coming up blank. Stopping in front of Bellamy's door, Clarke took a deep breath and knocked. There was no answer. For a moment, Clarke debated between knocking again, calling out to him, or just giving up. In the end, she settled on opening the door and walking in.

Bellamy was slumped against the far wall, his head resting on his arms that were crossed on his raised knees. He didn't look up when she came in or make any sort of protest, so Clarke walked over and sat next to him putting the bottle of scotch in her lap. She didn't say anything; there wasn't really anything one could say given the situation. Instead she rested her head on his shoulder in an attempt to give him some human contact, something she had always found comforting while grieving. It was grounding to feel another person's heat. It reminded you that the world still exists even if it feels like it's falling apart. They stayed like that for a long while as the dark room echoed with the sound of cars passing outside. Clarke watched the sporadic flashing pattern of headlights through the blinds trying to formulate something to say, something to ease the pain. Finally it came to her.

"Tell me about her."

It had helped him to talk about Octavia months ago when the siblings were fighting over Octavia's engagement. Fond memories, though tinged with sorrow, could be comforting. Bellamy raised his head only to drop is against the wall behind him. Looking up at him, Clarke saw he was staring at a small painting of the beach on the wall by his bed.

"She loved the beach. She only went once, when she was a kid. Her mom's boyfriend had a beach house in Delaware. They only stayed for a week, but she fell in love with the beach. She would always buy paintings and pictures of the seaside to hang up around the house. It was her dream to move there one day. That's why she took us to the lake all the time, it was the closest thing she had."

Clarke rested her head against his shoulder. "What did she like about it?"

"Everything. The smell, the sound of the waves, the kitschy boardwalks, the endlessness of the ocean. I remember when Octavia was little my mom would always tell her about the beach when she went to bed. O didn't like the mythology and history my mom read me when I was a kid. She always had trouble falling asleep though, so one night my mom told her to close her eyes and began describing the beach. She did it every night until Octavia turned ten and claimed she was too old for it." Bellamy's voice was quiet, marred by pain but still full of fondness. It brought tears to Clarke's eyes. "She was a great fucking mother. She had her faults, I won't deny that, but she gave everything for us. She was just…" He sighed, shaking his head. "I miss her so much. Even now, I'll see something that reminds me of her and I think to myself 'I need to go tell Mom about this' but then… then I remember."

He straightened his legs out so they lay parallel to Clarke's and dropped his hands to his lap. "I can't believe it has already been ten years. Ten years since I last heard her speak, since I last hugged her. It just doesn't seem right." Clarke reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it briefly. He dropped his head and rested his cheek against her hair.

"I was a shit those last few years. I've told you how I started hanging out with Murphy and some other dicks in high school. I was really stupid; I didn't give a shit about school and was just a real jackass. In the middle of sophomore year my mom sat me down one night, I had nearly gotten arrested and she was pissed. She told me I was throwing my life away and that she wanted something better for me. She said she didn't raise me to be like that. I was just a really angry teenager. It was the summer before freshman year that I realized how poor we were compared to other people and how fucked up our situation was. What my mom had done for a living, the fact that my dad wasn't in the picture and Octavia's had basically paid my mom off to be quiet about it. I was just angry at everything, but that night she knocked some sense into me. She told me that if I wanted to change the ways things were I had to work for it. I had to go to college, get a job, make a difference. So I started to actually work hard in school, I didn't dick around with Murphy, I stopped paying so much attention to girls and parties. I got a couple jobs to make things easier for my mom and to help pay for college, hoping that I would get in somewhere. She was so happy when I got my acceptance letter. She cried." Bellamy sniffed and wiped at his eyes.

"I left for school and apparently that spring she got the diagnosis. She had breast cancer, but she didn't tell O or me. She didn't want me to know because she was afraid I would drop out to give her the tuition money and to work, which I would have. I would have done it in a heartbeat. She couldn't afford the treatments she needed and everything just spiraled down. She finally told me over Christmas break my sophomore year because she had been given two months." His voice broke. "It was all my fault, Clarke. She wanted to save the money so I could go to school. She didn't tell me because she wanted me to have more opportunities than she had. And I dropped out anyways because she died and suddenly I was O's guardian."

Silent tears were now flowing freely down his face. Clarke pulled his head into the crook of her shoulder and held him tightly.

"It wasn't your fault, Bellamy. It was her choice. She loved you; she wouldn't want you to blame yourself. You have done so well, she would be so proud. So what if you didn't finish school, you served three tours, are now Chicago police officer, and raised Octavia to be an incredible woman. You have a good life; you are able to afford this house on your own and are so important to so many people. She would be so proud."

Bellamy's grip on her waist tightened. Clarke responded by running her fingers through his hair and whispering small words of comfort in his ear. After several minutes he pulled away, rubbing his face. "I'm sorry for dumping this all on you, Princess."

"Don't apologize. Its just what friends do."

He looked at her carefully, his eyes unreadable in the dark, before turning his gaze down to his hands in his lap. "I've missed you." The words were so quiet that Clarke almost didn't hear them.

"I've missed you too." She grabbed his hand again. His warm breath tickled her ear as he sighed sadly.

"Come on," he said, standing suddenly and pulling Clarke up by their still connected hands. Clarke let the bottle of scotch fall to the floor and followed him over to the bed, allowing herself to be dragged under the covers and onto his chest. He was still wearing jeans and she was still wearing a bra, but neither cared. They fell asleep holding each other and everything else seemed unimportant.

The next morning Clarke woke to an empty bed and the smell of pancakes being made below in the kitchen. She grew hopeful that maybe, just maybe, they could return to where they were before New Years.

A/N: Whew! Bet y'all will be a little happier with this chapter than the last because snuggles.

To be honest I teared up a little writing this towards the end. Losing a parent is one of my worst fears, and unfortunately it is inevitable. Shit got a little too real for me.

Anyways, hope y'all liked it. Like I said, three more chapters left. Plenty of drama and angst and fluff and kisses are left :)

(Also I just want to say that I hate the title of this fic because it was totally a working title but I'm afraid unsubscribed people won't recognize it with a different title so this is my formal apology for the awfulness of it)