a/n Thank you to the lovely folks who reviewed that last chapter! Please enjoy this Christmas gift of a somewhat fluffy chapter, with massive thanks to Stormkpr for betaing again. If you're after even more festive fluff, I wrote a Bellarke oneshot called Frozen Rain that you might like to check out.
Happy reading!
Madi does not comment on the unusual sense of urgency with which Clarke gathers her belongings, and laces her boots, and dons her jacket. If anything, she seems just as keen to get out of the house, too. And if the two of them march to the kitchens with unaccustomed haste to ask for some snacks for their expedition – well, that is only to be expected.
They have somewhere to be, after all.
By the time they emerge from the kitchens and out into the mess hall proper, Bellamy is somehow already there before them. Clarke sees the mass of people clustered around him first, actually, but then an intimidatingly enormous Wonkru warrior steps back, and Bellamy looks up and meets her eye, and really, she's not sure which of the pair of them is more relieved at that. She seems to remember he used to be more appreciative of admiring crowds, once upon a time, but right now he's looking at her like he's expecting her to save him from this excess of excitement that half the village seems to be feeling at his safe return home.
"Clarke. Madi." He greets them a little louder than strictly necessary, starts cutting a path through the mass of wellwishers.
"Dad." His daughter runs towards him, wraps him in a hug so fierce that she's a little worried she might bowl him clean over in his current exhausted state.
Thankfully, he survives the experience, and even manages to extract himself and keep walking towards her, their excited child at his shoulder.
Clarke takes a few deep breaths, and wonders how she is supposed to manage this, now. She wants, above all things, to avoid a return to that cold cheek-kissing she remembers with such hatred, but she's not sure what he's expecting from this new kind of relationship they've decided to have a go at. Maybe they might go for a long hug, she thinks, or maybe she might kiss his cheek. Or maybe this time round, the cheek kiss might at least be a little more lingering, something even approaching heartfelt.
And then he is there, right in front of her, a smile about his lips despite the dark shadows beneath his eyes, and she decides to just go for it.
She kisses him full on the mouth, in full view of the entire dining room, for a full fifteen seconds.
It would be an understatement to say that some people are whooping and whistling by the time she pulls away. She thinks that, probably, the whole damn village is cheering. But she finds herself feeling rather liberated, rather unconcerned with what they all think. This beautiful man has just walked back into her life and told her that he wants to be with her, and she intends to make the most of it.
Her daughter has been whooping, too. She can see it in the very Blake smirk about her mouth. She pulls her into an affectionate half a hug and the three of them head to take some food and find a table. They find Octavia, too, which is for the best. Clarke is all too aware that Bellamy chose to greet one branch of his family last night, but not the other, and has been worried about how that might go down. But his sister betrays absolutely no sign of annoyance or disappointment as she embraces him and asks after his state of health.
Their party is then four, as they actually, finally, get to eat their now lukewarm porridge. Clarke sort of wonders if the whole going missing situation might act as a bit of a catalyst for Bellamy and Octavia to fix a few things, in much the same way as it has made her rethink her priorities so radically and made her welcome him home so warmly last night, but as they carefully exchange cheerful chat about how she's enjoying teaching, it seems that this is one miracle that will have to wait.
It's not urgent, she tells herself. They have all the time in the world, now, for these two members of her family to practise forgiving each other. And she'll be right there beside them, every step of the way, to help them work it out.
…...
The walk to the lake is a little more challenging today than it was on Bellamy's birthday. The path is well-trodden underfoot, and the snow is far less deep here than it must have been on his ill-fated mission to the north, but all the same, it makes for slow going, and for a trip which is not necessarily what Clarke might have chosen whilst the best part of four months pregnant.
But Madi is over the moon, of course, so that's good enough for her. The girl is running before them, scooping up handfuls of snow and flinging them in no particular direction, and it does her heart good to see it.
It is not until they have nearly arrived that, all of a sudden, she finds a handful of snow being thrown in a very particular direction indeed. There she is, wandering along the path, telling Bellamy about a selection of the dull things that have happened in Medical in recent weeks, and quite unexpectedly she feels the cold wetness of snow against her left ear.
She looks up and sees Bellamy trying very hard not to smirk.
"Was I boring you that much?"
"Not at all." He rushes to reassure her, seeming suddenly anxious that she might not be finding this as amusing as he is. "I just thought – snow."
Well, then. Two can play at that game. She scoops some up for herself, chucks it straight back at his smirking face.
And then he's laughing, and lobbing more snow in her general direction, and she's aiming for his hair because, she thinks, he might looks quite sweet with snow-bedraggled hair drifting into his eyes, and then Madi gets wind of what they are doing and starts contributing snowballs of her own from afar. And all in all, it's quite a lot of fun, she decides, to frolic around in the snow with these two people she cares about so much.
Or, at least, it is fun until Bellamy shovels a fistful of snow down the back of her neck.
She gasps in shock, and holds her hands up in surrender. "That's it. No more. I concede."
He decides, for reasons that remain unclear to her, that her words merit a rather lengthy and somewhat chilly kiss.
"I think Madi won that one." He says when he pulls away at last.
"I think she took advantage of the fact that neither of us wanted our daughter to sit around in wet clothes all day." She comments lightly.
"I didn't think of that." She watches his eyes fill with panic. "I'm so sorry, Clarke. Are you going to be OK? Is the baby going to be OK? Stupid of me, I was just messing around and I didn't think -"
"Bellamy." She cuts him off with a kiss. "We're fine. I've survived worse. And Madi has too."
She shocks herself with those words. She thinks it might be the first time she's actually referred to this baby she didn't ask to bear by the name of the daughter she loves so much.
Apparently, then, it is something of a day for miracles, after all.
They reach the lake not long after that, and pause for a moment to take in the sight. There are great sheets of ice floating on the surface of the water, and the layer of snow coating the sandy beach makes for a very odd appearance indeed. Madi, of course, is not interested in hanging around to make any profound comment on such things. She wants to get on with building a snowman, an old Earth custom she has read about in her father's books.
Bellamy laughs at her suggestion. "You go for it, kid. I'm going to sit here and make a fuss of your mother."
Sure enough, he does. He sets down his pack, rolls a tarpaulin over the snow for them to sit on. Produces a cushion from goodness only knows where and sets it down before her. And then offers her, of all things, a flask of hot pine needle tea.
"Are you going to sit down?" He asks, when she is still standing and staring at him some seconds later.
"Yeah, of course." She does so with a little caution. "Thank you. This baby is lucky to have such a caring father."
He looks askance at her at that. "Or maybe I wanted to do something nice for you?"
She offers him a smile, and cuddles in close to his side, and looks out at Madi making her incongruous beach-based snowman. But somehow, she notes, her smile seems to have become distinctly tearful, and she's a bit annoyed about that. Because she's not sad today, of course not. No, she must just be overwhelmed with happiness at having Bellamy home in one piece, and of course there are those pesky hormones -
"Clarke? What's wrong?" He holds her a little tighter as he notices her tears.
"Nothing." She rushes to assure him. "It's just the hormones."
She hears him take a careful breath, wonders what's coming next. Is he a bit annoyed, perhaps, that she's ruining this lovely day with her stupid irrational emotional state? Is he rethinking whether or not she's really sufficiently fun to want to give this a go, for real?
"Or maybe it's something to do with having to get pregnant to save the human race?" He suggests gently. "Or maybe to do with getting back together with a guy who left you behind to die when the world ended? Or trying to work out what your role is, if not leading your people? Or being anxious because your daughter keeps having weird dizzy spells? And then there's the fact that, for some reason, you feel the need to hide all this from everyone who cares about you because you still have this idea that you're supposed to bear it for them, so they don't have to?"
Well, now. If he carries on like that, the universe isn't going to have to stand still for very long at all before she works out how to love him.
"Thank you." It's inadequate, but it's a start.
"Any time." He says, and she can hear that he means it. "I know you like to keep things to yourself but – but if ever you want to share what's bothering you, I'll be here to hear it."
"I know." After all, she does know that, now. "I think maybe talking is one thing the two of us need to do better at. I'm still trying to guess what you're thinking, like I used to be able to, but now I keep getting it wrong."
"I keep doing that, too." He admits sadly. "I got it so wrong, when you told me you were pregnant."
She steels herself to have a go at that talking thing, then. To have a go at helping both of them out.
"How do you feel about the baby? About me being pregnant?" He looks at her consideringly for a moment, as if trying to work out what the correct answer is, and she has to suppress the urge to throttle him. "Honestly, Bellamy?"
"Honestly? I'm over the moon. And I'm sorry for that, in a way, because I can tell your feelings are a bit more complicated than that. But I love Madi, and I'm so relieved that she's going to be OK, and excited to meet baby Madi."
He pauses for a moment, gazing at their daughter rolling snow, and continues a little more hesitantly.
"And – there's more to it, I guess, too. You know family has always been important to me, ever since I had to care for O as a kid. And when I first met you, Clarke, back on Earth, and loved you, I knew it wasn't really a time for thinking about the future or about raising families. But whenever I did let myself daydream about it, about what the world might be like if we managed to secure some kind of peace, I guess I always imagined that if I had a family I'd – I'd have a family with you. So this second chance is – it means everything to me."
Of course, that has her crying again. Most things do, it seems, at the moment.
"Thank you for being honest with me." She tells him through her tears, squeezing his hand. "Knowing how happy it makes you, it gives me another reason to be happy, too, if that makes sense?"
"Yeah."
He doesn't say anything else, no empty platitudes about how he wishes she could be more happy for herself, and she is grateful for it. They simply sit there, and hold each other, and watch the child they love so much make a mess in the snow.
…...
Clarke isn't quite sure how it has happened, but somehow she has been talked into going to the bar tonight. They were on their way home from their visit to the lake and their admiration of Madi's misshapen snowman when, seemingly out of nowhere, their daughter announced her intention to spend the night at her grandmother's house. And Clarke couldn't make sense of this, initially, was a bit confused as to why Madi didn't want to spend the evening with Bellamy, but the girl made it quite clear that her mind was made up. She would spend the night at Abby's, and her parents would take themselves for an evening out.
And, well, neither of them could argue with the commander, could they?
So it is that Clarke finds herself, now, standing in her bedroom and staring thoughtfully at that precious blue dress. It's silly, she tells herself, to spend so much time contemplating this. She is just going for a drink with friends, and really the whole village is far too preoccupied with her pregnant state to bother noticing whether or not she has made an effort with her clothing. She should just get on with making the decision already, and either don some stretchy leggings that accommodate her developing baby bump, or squeeze into this damn dress.
Of course, she opts for the dress.
It's definitely too tight around the breasts, now, she notes, but she supposes that Bellamy is unlikely to complain about the frankly indecent cleavage this situation creates. And the full skirt accommodates her belly surprisingly well, and on a godforsaken moon where maternity wear is in short supply, she thinks she looks perfectly acceptable, thank you very much.
Or at least, that is what she thinks until Bellamy opens the door.
She realised already, of course, that he must find her somewhat physically attractive. She's not completely oblivious to the clues he's left along the way, on that front. But this is, she thinks, the first time he's ever actually stared at her open-mouthed. And then, suddenly, he seems to realise that there's something quite a lot more useful his mouth could be doing, and makes a start on kissing her, instead.
It's a pretty hot kiss, she can't deny it. And this dress leaves quite a lot of her shoulders and upper back bare and he seems pretty keen to celebrate that, too, as his lips start trailing across her exposed skin. There are worse ways to say hello, she supposes, but she thinks that probably they ought not do this all night.
"Hello to you, too." She pulls away, but keeps hold of his hand. Just in case. Just so she can't lose him again.
"You look stunning." He tells her outright, and she feels her stomach swoop a little at his words. Stunning? Stunning is a new development.
"Thank you. You look good, too." She's still getting used to being allowed to notice that, really.
"But not stunning." He insists with a smirk. "It's not even just the dress, although I think I've made it pretty clear I do like that dress. It's – I don't know – you look very pregnant and it's kind of hot."
She smiles shyly at that, but her mind isn't really on the compliment. She thinks that, really, this is as good an opening as she's going to get to practise being honest and open about something that's been bothering her.
"You know when you said that this dress was your favourite birthday present. Can I – can I ask you about that? Because I guess I was a bit surprised that – you know – your birthday surprise wasn't your favourite birthday present."
He frowns at her for a moment. "Oh. Ohhh. That was awesome, you know that, right? And I'm really hoping you might try it again some day. But I liked the dress because – I liked seeing you in peace time."
"What?" She is proud of herself for asking what he means, rather than persisting in ignorance.
"It's like I said earlier." He tries to articulate his thoughts, becoming visibly more uncomfortable with each sentence that passes his lips. "We were always at war, on Earth. I liked seeing you having fun and wearing something frivolous. It made me think that maybe I could start thinking of that peaceful future and having a family with you."
She kisses him for that. She's not sure whether it's the relief at hearing that he did not mean to condemn that birthday surprise, or her joy at hearing how much this peaceful future with her means to him. Or maybe it's just a reward, a thank you to him for telling her something he clearly did not find easy to share.
Maybe it's just because she likes kissing him.
Whatever the reason, he's clearly not complaining, as he tangles his fingers in her hair and nibbles a little at her lower lip. And she's not exactly going to turn down that invitation. He used to be wearing a jacket, she seems to remember, but it's quite hard to make out with him properly with a jacket in the way. And his shirt, a nice neat button-down – she thinks that was tucked in once. But, well, it definitely isn't any more, because if it were she wouldn't be able to dig her fingernails into the smooth skin of his lower back, and that would be a shame.
He groans her name and she forces herself not to actually shove him up against the wall and demand he screw her. She's always found the whole groaning-her-name thing a bit of a turn-on, but they have a bar date to get to.
"We should stop." She says reluctantly, pulling away from his lips. "We don't want to be late."
"We have ages. And I have a better idea." Grinning, he takes her hand and starts leading her towards her bedroom.
This is an idea she could get behind, she decides easily, following him only too willingly. They probably do have a little time, she supposes, and sex is quite fun and – well – she's supposed to be practising having fun.
They make it across the threshold, and are standing at the foot of the bed, and she's pretty sure she knows what happens next. She's a feeling they are supposed to start making out again, and then strip, and then arrange themselves in an orientation where he can screw her effectively without any logistical challenges from her pregnancy. And then they are both supposed to orgasm, loudly, and then they will go to the bar.
She therefore reaches for the hem of her dress, and makes a start on pulling it up past her hips.
"No." He reaches out a hand towards her. "Would you – could you keep that on? I just thought I might – you know – we probably have time for me to go down on you quickly before we leave."
Is this a thing? Do real couples, who are together by choice, indulge in a spot of speedy oral before they go out for the evening?
"Is that what you want to do?" She asks, finding it a little unfathomable that her pleasure might be all he's expecting from a sexual encounter.
"Yeah. If – if you want me to, of course."
"Yeah. I just – won't that be a bit disappointing for you?"
He groans a little, presses a kiss to her hairline. "For goodness' sake, Clarke. Do I need to spell it out for you? What do you think I was thinking about while I was snowed in, in a damn cave, for ten days?"
"Huh?"
"I had a lot of time to – you know – to think about you. And how I'd like to make you happy if I managed to convince you to give me another chance. And about the noises that you make when I've got my head between your legs."
"Oh." She thinks she ought to be blushing, but she's too busy feeling rather awestruck that he's ever bothered fantasising about her like that. "I'd like that, if you want to."
He doesn't wait to be told twice. He eases her back onto the bed, and pulls her underwear aside, and suddenly his mouth is there, doing all sorts of frankly alarming things to her insides, making the moon shift rather quicker than normal beneath her. And she knows she's being noisy, is gasping aloud, is moaning his name as if it is some kind of prayer, but he did say, after all, that he liked to hear her. And this is even better than she remembers, somehow, and it's all she can do to dig her fingertips into his scalp and beg him to finish the job.
She suspects she's crushing his skull a little, but it doesn't seem like there's much to be done about that, just now.
She can feel it building, now, can feel him leading her ever closer to the edge, but this time, she is not afraid to fall. She can feel, too, the tickle of that increasingly familiar beard against the inside of her thigh, and she thinks that, actually, she can feel his own excitement increasing as she urges him on.
And then she is there, falling apart around his mouth, coming back together again as he clambers up the bed to kiss her softly.
"So, time to go to the bar?" He asks with a smirk as her breathing slows.
"Shh." She wraps an arm around him, cuddles him close. "Not yet. Thank you, that was good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Even better than I remembered."
He rewards her with a kiss for that judgement and they lie in comfortable silence for a few moments. At length, though, she decides it probably is time to get going.
"You know your beard tickles a bit when you do that?" She informs him conversationally, as she reaches down to pull her underwear back into place.
He does not respond in the same lighthearted tone. "I've actually been thinking about shaving it off."
"What?" She is only surprised, she tells herself, not alarmed.
"I've been thinking about shaving it off." He shrugs, but she senses that the conversation is actually not so casual as all that. Maybe he is trying for a bit more honesty, too. "I know you prefer me without it and -"
"No. You don't know that." She reminds him, somehow a little annoyed. "You can't possibly know that, because I've never said it."
"OK, you haven't said it. But I was clean-shaven back on Earth when you loved me and I figured that you preferred it that way."
"Bellamy. You realise this is completely stupid?" There is, she thinks, no other word for it. "We've got centuries of history and we're having a baby together. Your choice of facial hair is not going to make any difference to how much I want to be with you. Keep it or shave it, I'll still want you."
He looks completely taken aback at that. "You mean that?"
"I mean it." At least, she supposes, she now knows that she is not the only one feeling a little insecure in this relationship. "Come on, grab your jacket. We're going to go and have fun."
They set out of the door hand in hand, and have a mild dispute over who will lock the door behind them. Bellamy insists that it is her house, and she should have the honour, but her key is zipped into her pocket and she's pregnant and, really, the least he could do is volunteer to be the one who faffs with the key.
He concedes, of course, and they set out across the village.
"Are you looking forward to seeing everyone?" She asks. The answer seems obvious, but she's still remembering how to make conversation after a rather isolated couple of months.
"Yeah." She hears him take a deep breath, and is pleased to note that she has some idea what that clue means.
He's not sure she'll like what's coming next.
"I'm really looking forward to catching up with Echo. I'm not saying that to upset you, but because I'm trying to be honest. I missed her so much. Not in the same way I missed you, of course." He squeezes her hand to emphasise his point. "But she's had my back for years, so it was hard being out there without her."
Clarke forces herself to breathe carefully, to respond rationally to his words, not her own illogical insecurities. To show him how grateful she is that, yes, he is trying for some honesty, too.
"I get that. She's very good at what she does, I can see why you'd miss her when a mission got tough. And she's about the only person who would put up with me this last week, so I can't complain."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. She's a good woman."
"But she's not you." He leans across to press his lips to her cheek. "I'm sorry I ever blamed you for trying to break us up. I was a bit confused."
"Now that's an understatement." She reprimands him gently.
They have arrived at the bar, now, and it seems that the days of him sending her to sit down are long gone. That would, apparently, put a little more space between them than either of them is prepared to accept, just now. They therefore get their drinks and head for that usual table. And then, of course, everyone leaps to their feet to hug Bellamy, and Clarke finds herself relinquishing his hand to grab his drink before Murphy knocks it flying, and there is really quite a lot of joy and laughter.
There is also, she notes, a long hug between Bellamy and Echo. But she can deal with that, now, because they are working on honesty, and she has no reason to feel insecure.
Hugs duly exchanged, they find themselves confronting the question of seating arrangements. And there is a problem, here, because there are only two seats left at the table. One of them, a rickety stool next to Murphy, the other, half a bench next to Raven on the opposite side of the group.
Well, then. The answer to this one is simple.
"Raven." Clarke addresses her briskly. "Please can you move?"
"Why?"
"Because we want to sit together." The voice is Bellamy's, but the words are exactly those she would have chosen. If they've made it as far as completing each other's thoughts, she decides, things must be going OK.
And then, really, as the evening lengthens, things seem to be going more than OK. She's distinctly out of practice at the art of making conversation, sure, but somehow that doesn't seem to matter. Her friends fill in the silences for her, and Bellamy's hand in hers keeps her grounded, and she is, in fact, a good two-thirds of the way to successfully achieving fun, she decides, by the time Echo turns to address her with what passes for a smile, on that woman's face.
"Congratulations." Echo's never been one to waste words, of course, but this seems concise even by her standards.
"Thank you." She pauses a little, unsure what the protocol is in situations where one is being congratulated but it is less than clear why. "You mean about the baby, I guess?"
She is met with a frown that, although she's still getting to know Echo, she is pretty sure suggests that her conversational companion thinks she is being an idiot. "I meant about Bellamy."
"Oh."
She's not ready for this. She could not be less ready for this, for dealing with congratulations from Echo, of all people, in the wake of two months living almost entirely in her own head. Sure, she likes to think they're friends now, but this is on a whole new level and she is, completely and utterly, not ready for this.
To her surprise, Echo covers the awkward moment for her, gives a not-unkind laugh.
"I know, I know. It's not where I thought we'd end up, either, all those months ago when he came home and told me about Madi. But I can see, now, why he was hurting so much without you, all those years on the Ring."
"Thank you. I know this can't be easy for you." After all, she knows what it's like, to watch Bellamy Blake hold someone else close. She has been on the other side of this situation, too.
"I've faced worse." She snorts a little. "You forget what I was before Praimfaiya."
There is silence, and Clarke supposes it is her turn to fill it, but she has no idea what to say.
Again, Echo saves her. Saving people is apparently her greatest talent. "You know, it's been easier than I thought it would be. It's doing me good, to be my own person instead."
Now that, Clarke thinks, she can't make sense of. The best thing, she has always felt, about being with Bellamy, is that she gets to be her own person at the same time, as well.
"What are you two conspiring about?" Bellamy's cheerful question interrupts.
"You." There doesn't seem any sense in denying it.
Murphy catches that, joins in with a laugh. "You want to watch that, Bellamy. The girlfriend and the ex comparing notes."
"I don't mind." He says, and she finds herself thinking that this rather relaxed Bellamy who has come home to her doesn't seem to mind much at all.
"He trusts us." Clarke states, tone light, heart proud.
He rewards her for that with a brief kiss on the lips. "You took the words right out of my mouth."
Yes. There seems to be a lot of that going on between the two of them, lately.
…...
Clarke is running late when she arrives at the Medical Centre the following morning. In her defence, it is difficult to make promptness a priority when she is still getting used to waking up next to Bellamy. And having morning sex with Bellamy. And brushing her teeth with Bellamy. And – well – there's a lot of Bellamy in her life at the moment, and that's a good – but time-consuming – thing.
It's not a magic wand, of course. She still has her moments of surprise tearfulness, that weeping that might be about a little more than just her hormones. But she doesn't have them as much as she did when she thought Bellamy was dead, and that's more progress than she could ever have wished for, just two short days ago.
She takes a seat at her desk, but her heart's not really in it. She's wondering how Bellamy's morning meeting with Kane is going, for one thing. He's still technically on leave in the wake of that ill-fated mission, but when she decided she really ought to show up for a morning's work in Medical, at least, he decided he might as well show his face in Kane's office and share a bit more detail about their snowy quest for Titans. But she decides not to wonder about that for too long, because she'll see him again this afternoon, and she reminds herself as rationally as possible that there's only so much trouble he can get into during the course of one morning separated from her.
She wonders, then, instead about whether it might be time to ask her mother a rather important question.
"Mum?"
"Yes?" She doesn't bother looking up from her list of tasks for the day.
"Just to check – am I far enough along to do the DNA test, now? To find out whether this baby is Madi?"
"Yes." Now she has Abby's full attention. "I didn't suggest it before because – well, because of the circumstances. But yes, would you like to find out now?
"No." She knows, now, what the correct answer to that question is. "Can I bring Bellamy when I come in tomorrow morning? He'd want to be here."
"I'm pleased to hear you two have fixed things." She jumps in shock at that.
"You realised they were broken?"
"Of course I did." Her mother snaps, uncharacteristically short. "Why do you think I kept asking if you needed to talk?"
She did? Clarke doesn't remember that. There's a lot, actually, about the last couple of months that seems to have escaped her.
"I'm sorry. I guess I didn't want to worry you." She pauses to gather her honesty. "I wasn't sure how you'd cope with it."
"Clarke." Her mother gives up on pretending to read, gets up and walks over to her. "I've just survived ten days watching my granddaughter's father go missing-presumed-dead and my daughter fall apart over it. I don't think I'm about to have a relapse if you tell me some bad news."
She's not sure who starts it, but somehow the two of them seem to be hugging, now. And that's just as well, really, because it means that her mother cannot see the shame and confusion on her face at the thought of just how thoroughly she has failed to interact with everyone she cares about, recently.
When her mother starts speaking again, it catches her by surprise.
"To answer your original question – yes, we could do the test tomorrow. Or you could go remind Bellamy that he's technically on leave, and fetch him here now."
Well. That's a suggestion she only needs to hear once.
She finds it surprisingly easy to stick to her resolution, as she walks as briskly as her slight baby-bump will permit in the direction of Kane's office. She remembers taking that pregnancy test all those months ago, and wondering how a braver woman might go about telling Bellamy the news. Well, she knows the answer, now. A braver woman would have told him she was taking the test in the first place.
She arrives at the office, knocks on the door. Hears two familiar voices raised in welcome and enters with what she hopes is a winning smile.
Well, it certainly can't be a losing smile, she thinks, based on the way Bellamy jumps to his feet and kisses her in greeting.
"Hey, Clarke." If she has ever seen Kane grin this widely before, it certainly hasn't happened in quite some time.
"Hello. Both of you. Would it be OK if I borrowed Bellamy for a moment?"
"Of course. He's on leave, but he doesn't seem very good at remembering it."
She has to laugh at that. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."
With that, she takes his hand and drags him out of the door. It occurs to her, at this point, that he hasn't actually spoken yet, but when she looks across at the dazed smile he's wearing that all makes quite a lot of sense.
"You OK?" She asks affectionately.
"Yeah. What did you want to borrow me for?"
"I thought you'd want to be with me for the DNA test. To check whether this little one is Madi." She finds that she is rather shocked at herself, there. Shocked at how easily affectionate she finds herself feeling towards the baby.
"Thank you." He squeezes her hand. "You were right. I definitely want to be there."
They arrive back at Medical, and prepare for the test. Clarke always expected to be a bit nervous about this, nervous at the prospect of finding out whether or not she has actually succeeded at securing her daughter's future, nervous at the prospect of her mother sticking a needle into her stomach, but she finds herself feeling strangely at peace.
Whatever the outcome, this is one test they will face together.
Bellamy whispers to her, voice soft, as her mother goes away to analyse the result. "You doing alright?"
And all at once she is there, eighteen years old again, on that lonely road to TonDC that was suddenly so much less lonely with him by her side. And she is remembering that the answer to that question will not always be a yes but that, with Bellamy at her shoulder, she will always find the strength to carry on.
"I think so. You?"
"Yeah. She'll be OK, Clarke. Whatever happens, we'll make sure of that."
Abby is not gone long. She emerges only minutes later, a broad smile on her lips, but all the same, Clarke needs to hear the words before she can begin rejoicing.
"The baby's her. She's Madi."
Finally, it seems, fate is running in her favour.
a/n Thanks for reading!