a/n Thank you to the lovely readers who reviewed that last chapter. Your kind words keep me motivated with this long story! We're getting towards the end now, and I'm going to miss this story, but I have loads of exciting ideas in the pipeline for when this is done. Thank you, too, to Stormkpr for betaing. Happy reading!
Clarke cannot quite believe that she has not fallen apart this week, in which Madi has started taking to her bed sick on consecutive days, rather than only intermittently. The Clarke of six months ago would have crumpled, she's quite certain, would have been an unhinged mess and would have curled up alone in her bed to weep. But somehow, these days, she finds that she is increasingly resilient, increasingly confident. Increasingly, perhaps, like her old self.
Only that's not quite true, either. She seems to have grown warmer, more generous with her emotions. Certainly Bellamy seems to have decided that she is even affectionate. Somehow, somewhere along the way, since she came to Sanctum she has started to work it out. Stopped worrying about survival, every minute of every day, and actually started building a life.
She's worried about Madi, of course she is. But her worry does not spiral away from her, tighter and ever tighter, like a knot in her chest past which she cannot breathe. And her sadness does not overwhelm her, at the moment, does not form some impenetrable barrier past which she cannot speak to those around her. No, this concern about Madi is a thing to be shared, and discussed, and even, just about, managed.
And there really do seem to be plenty of people in this village who are keen to help her out with that.
"Is there anything else I can do?" Raven asks, all business, as she drops by with a couple of spare portions of lunch.
"No, thanks. This is great." Clarke gestures at the food her friend has thought to bring. "We'll eat when she wakes up from her nap."
"Sure." Raven is still standing in the doorway, listing sideways, as ever, determined set to her brows, as ever.
"How are you?" Clarke asks, rather wondering at her ongoing presence.
"I'm good. I – uhh – I don't have much on in the workshop today. So I could stay for a bit?" Raven suggests, sounding a little less confident than usual.
"That would be great." Clarke is worried that perhaps she is nodding too enthusiastically. "Madi's asleep, of course but – but I would really appreciate the company, if you're sure you're not too busy."
"I'm sure." Raven nods briskly, and lurches past her, striding lopsidedly down the corridor. "Come on. I need to tell you what Emori said to Shaw this morning."
Clarke can hardly believe, now, that there was a time not so long ago when she honestly believed that there was only one person on this moon who still liked her.
…...
By Clarke's reckoning, she's now about seven months pregnant, and she's becoming somewhat frustrated by the inconveniences of her condition. Apart from anything else, she finds herself ever more tired in the evenings, and is taking herself to bed earlier and ever earlier, and that seems a bit of a shame. For the first time in her entire life she has a steady romantic relationship, and she would really quite like to make the most of it. She would like to sit up on the sofa, chatting to Bellamy about everything and nothing, and then she would like them to fall into bed together and make love until the early hours.
But she just doesn't have the energy for that.
"You doing OK?" Bellamy asks her, all concern, as she glazes over slightly while she is supposed to be playing chess with him one evening.
"Yeah. Sorry." She shakes her head briskly, in some vain hope that the movement might wake her up.
"Don't be. You're allowed to be tired."
"I like being pregnant, of course I do." She tries not to sound defensive, and is not entirely successful. "But it's harder work than I thought it would be."
He laughs a little, reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. "Come on. We're giving up on chess. Go to bed."
"I don't want to." She's aware that she's pouting, but she thinks that is understandable, given the circumstances. "I want to stay up late talking to you. And maybe making out with you in between."
"We've got our whole lives for that, Clarke." He tells her, somewhat fierce, the look in his eyes telling her he really does mean it.
"I look forward to it."
"Get some rest." He recommends gently.
"Soon." She promises. "Can we just talk a little longer first?"
"Sure." He admits defeat and stands, then helps her out of her chair and ushers her towards the sofa. "Make yourself comfortable. What did you want to talk about?"
"Nothing. I just feel like I've barely seen you today."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to get home so late. I set the kids a navigation challenge and it took them longer than I thought it would."
"So they got lost?"
"They got lost." He confirms with a chuckle. "Another skill they need to work on."
"It's good to see you enjoying your work." She tells him, because it is. She thinks she has been waiting her whole life, perhaps, to see Bellamy light up when he talks about his day.
"Yeah. I could say the same to you." The words are nice to hear, but she cannot help but think that he seems to be putting more effort into combing his fingers through her hair than maintaining the conversation. But, then again, if she's being honest, that was one of the things she was hoping for from staying up late talking to him.
They talk even less in the minutes that follow. It's her fault, really. She's the one that starts it. But, in her defence, kissing him is quite fun and his mouth is right there and – well – she figures it would be a wasted opportunity not to snog him a little while she has the chance. And he's not an idiot, of course, so he kisses her right back, his lips somehow already feeling like home for all that they have only been together a couple of months. And then it's not just his lips, either, but his tongue joins the party too, and it is, without doubt, the best four minutes of her day.
She pulls away eventually. She thinks one of them had better do so.
"What was that for?" He asks, clearly not complaining.
"Reminding you that I love you." She says, with what she hopes is a winning smile.
Based on the way he presses his lips to her forehead, it is clearly not the worst smile he has ever seen.
"I love you, too." He tells her, in something of a rush, almost as if worried that she might disappear, if he doesn't remember to say the words right back at her every time she says them herself.
She knows the feeling. She's a bit worried he might disappear, too. But, of course, she is substantially more worried that Madi might disappear, because that remains a genuine possibility.
Just like that, her good mood is shattered.
"What's wrong?" He asks, evidently reading the change in her face.
"Madi." She mutters. It is always Madi, these days, whenever anything is wrong, and she is growing tired of it. She just wants her little girl to be OK, wants it, she thinks, more than she has ever wanted anything.
"She's going to be fine. We're going to make sure of it, remember? You and me against the world, and all that?"
"Yeah. I'm worried about her physical health, obviously, but I'm worried about her mood as well. It must be miserable sitting here feeling ill and getting anxious like that. And she's only a kid."
"We should do something nice for her."
"It's her birthday before long." Clarke points out. Of course, birthday is a bit of an abstract concept, when Madi was found over a century ago on a far-off planet. There is no telling how close the day they have always celebrated might be to the day on which her daughter was actually born. All she knows is that Madi reckoned her nomon celebrated finding her towards the end of summer. In the berry season, it was. That was how she remembered it. She supposes, though, that the date might not be that far from the day of her birth, given how things look to be lining up just now.
"We should throw her a party." Bellamy suggests, unsurprisingly.
Clarke thinks it might be a bit more complicated than that. "I think a party might be a bit much if she's stuck in bed. And I'll be due a couple of weeks after that, so she might be even more sick than she is now. Maybe we just invite those couple of friends of hers from the cadets over? And have a bigger party once I've had baby Madi?"
"Yeah. You might be right."
"I often am." She tries to get the words out around a yawn.
"I never noticed that." He teases. "I'll mention the idea to her friends tomorrow. But I think you should get some sleep now."
She frowns a little, and wonders about protesting. But she really is exhausted, and she supposes that maybe she really does have a lifetime to sit on sofas with Bellamy.
"OK." She concedes, making a show of her disappointment as she starts to stand. "Will I see you in the morning? What time are you going to work?"
He looks confused, she thinks, as he gets to his feet, too. "I'll get up with you and have breakfast with you. But – you'll see me before that. I don't know if you've noticed that we share a bed?"
"But you can't be tired yet? You're not seven months pregnant."
"No. But you are, and you're going to bed, so I'll keep you company."
"You will?"
"If – if that's alright, of course." He looks suddenly nervous, she thinks. "I just thought you might want a hug or whatever. And – I know this will sound stupid – but while you're pregnant and Madi's sick I like to be close to you."
"It doesn't sound stupid at all." She reassures him, taking his hand, and leading the way to the bedroom in an awkward waddle.
In fact, she thinks, it might just be the least stupid thing he's said all day.
…...
As the days pass, Clarke finds herself remembering why she used to think her mother was a tiny bit awesome, back before the addiction. Before her father's floating, too, now she comes to think about it, and of course before the fall to Earth that came somewhere in between the two. She is remembering, now, the mother she idolised slightly in her youth, the strong-willed leader, as well as the gentle healer.
She allows herself to wonder, occasionally, whether her own little girl sees her in the same light. Maybe, actually, every daughter thinks her mother is a tiny bit awesome.
Yet Abby is undoubtedly incredible, these days, in the way that she keeps Medical running smoothly while Clarke is increasingly occupied with Madi and with leadership, and in the way that she finds time to look after her granddaughter to boot. Just now, for example, Clarke is spending a precious hour on analysing her herb collection while Madi is in Gaia's capable care, and Abby is somehow juggling her concern and a tray full of tinkling glassware.
"Can I do anything to help, sweetheart?" She asks, as she sets her precious burden carefully on the desk.
"No, thanks, Mum." Clarke barely looks up from her work. "I need to get this done so I can go swap with Gaia until Bellamy gets back, so I can go to that meeting with -"
"Clarke. Stop." Abby rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, and succeeds in bringing her attention away from her herbs. "Stay here and take your time. I know how important this work is to you, and there's no need to rush about while you've got baby Madi on board. Let me go sit with my granddaughter for a while."
"But I don't want to take you away from -"
"You're not taking me away from anything." She's beginning to remember, from that tone of voice, that her mother used to be the chancellor. "I'm all done."
Clarke doesn't bother arguing further. The idea of finishing her work in her own good time and not having to speedwalk half way around the village this evening is beginning to sound quite attractive.
"Tell Madi I send my love. And could you take some more of that medicine home for her?"
"Of course." Abby pauses a moment, frowns a little. "How is she today?"
"She's still got her sense of humour." Clarke decides to begin with the limited good news. "But she's been more nauseous than usual today, and it's the fifth day in a row she's been in bed."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Her mother pulls her into a hug. "I'll take good care of her."
"Give her a hug from me?" It is a struggle to get the words out without tearing up. She can barely hug her daughter at all, these days, so much does it cause her symptoms to worsen.
"Yes. I'll do that." With a nod, and a slightly forced smile, Abby takes her things and disappears out the door.
And leaves Clarke to practise the art of being a tiny bit awesome. In fact, she's beginning to suspect it might be an hereditary quality.
…...
Clarke tries not to enjoy security meetings too much. There is nothing inherently entertaining, obviously, about an hour or two of Kane and Indra and Echo telling her every detail of every movement of every man and every woman in Sanctum who has ever held a gun. It is dry, and it is dull, and she knows full well that she's only there in the hope that she can come up with some miraculous and hitherto unimagined solution every time they hit a stumbling block.
But she has to admit, there's more to it than what actually happens. There is also the feeling of purpose, of being in the thick of it, and of actually contributing to her community in the way she was born to do.
And, apart from anything else, sometimes these things are relatively good-humoured occasions.
"Let's begin with the cadets." Kane gets the meeting off to an informal but decisive start. "All good on that front. The four that Bellamy recommended to start going out on patrol have handled themselves well so far."
"So no injured trees?" Echo gives away with the slightest quirk of her lips that this is, in fact, meant to be a joke.
"And no injured guards." Indra gives her a quelling look.
"We should get Bellamy at these meetings." Kane muses out loud. "It would make a lot of sense for him to know what he's training these kids for."
"It would also make childcare a challenge." Clarke points out.
Kane does not choose to respond to that. He has decided they are to move on, it seems, and has started reading out a schedule of patrols that Clarke thinks he might more easily just have given them each a copy of. Going through it now seems a bit of a waste of time, really, time that she could be spending with Madi and Bellamy, time that Echo could be spending being a strong independent woman who occasionally sleeps with a hot archery student. Time that Indra could be spending doing – well, whatever it is that Indra does. She's still not clear on that one, even after all these years, but she supposes that the formidable woman must have some interests beyond wielding a sword. And time, of course, that Kane could spend with Abby, but Clarke would rather not imagine that scenario in too much detail for obvious reasons.
Thankfully, Kane does not read aloud to them forever. She cannot help but feel that Bellamy is a far more engaging storyteller, but she supposes she might be somewhat biased.
"Clarke?"
Oh dear. Caught napping again. Has she mentioned that she's pregnant?
"Yeah?"
"What's your opinion?"
"About – about what, exactly?"
Echo grins a little and takes pity on her, summarising briskly what she has missed. "We think Octavia's ready to go out into the field. I'm taking a mission to the north in a fortnight's time. It's likely to be a long trip, and there might be Titans."
"She's more than ready." Clarke does not need to think twice about this. "She's covered everything my mother thought was essential, and she's confident and quick at basic procedures."
"She's a good student." Indra tries not to look too proud, and fails miserably. It is good, Clarke thinks, that Octavia now finds herself in a role where her old teacher is permitted to be proud of her once more.
"Great." Kane nods, jots something down. "That's that settled. We're low on ammunition, but I'll go to Raven about that tomorrow. Anything else to add?"
"Just one thing." Clarke speaks up. "We're running low on Jacksonia, and we can't just ask Raven to fix that. Echo, you're patrolling out that way tomorrow, aren't you? Can you bring some back?"
"I would if I knew what you were talking about." Echo agrees with a bemused smile.
Of course. Clarke should have realised that this was not common knowledge outside of the Medical Centre. "It's a herb that we use to help blood clot. Here, I'll draw it for you."
She borrows Kane's notebook, sketches a broadly accurate rendition of the distinctive leaves. "Like this. It grows close to the ground, in clumps. Don't take too many leaves from each plant, and leave the roots intact."
"Great." Echo nods. "Clumpy patches, leave the roots. I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks."
Kane concludes the meeting, then, and Clarke levers herself into a standing position and wonders about heading towards the door. She knows that it will be necessary, if she is to get home, but it's really pretty exhausting just being upright.
"Are you well?" Indra surprises her by asking, as she hovers at her elbow. "I remember when I was expecting Gaia. I have always been an active person, but for the last couple of months I was not active at all."
Clarke laughs a little. She cannot quite imagine a sedentary version of Indra.
"I'm fine, thanks. I'll see you in the morning?"
Indra nods and heads for the door, holding it open for Clarke to make her way through. It is all rather touching, she cannot help but feel.
It is almost as if she has finally found her people.
…...
By the time Clarke arrives home her feet are aching like crazy, and the lights are out in Madi's room. She is a bit disappointed about that, about missing the chance to say goodnight to her, because it's a whole five hours or so since she last spoke to her daughter, but her disappointment is quickly overcome by surprise.
Bellamy and Abby are sitting at the living room table together. And they are chatting away, about nothing in particular.
And they are playing chess.
She's not really sure which of these facts is the most surprising. Apart from anything else, she wasn't entirely aware that her mother even knew how to play chess. As a girl, she always used to play with Wells and with her father.
OK, she is sure which of these developments is the most surprising. Because, sure, it's been a while since Bellamy and Abby were openly hostile to each other, but all the same, they have absolutely never been friends. She can barely ever recall them even being allies, which is impressive, considering they are supposed to have been on the same side for a good portion of the last couple of centuries.
So Clarke isn't quite sure how to react, now, at the sight of her mother and her lover laughing as if they are completely at ease with each other.
"Did I miss something?" She asks, voice small, as she walks into the room.
"Hey." Bellamy jumps to his feet instead of answering her question, pulls her into an embrace. Kisses her a little more enthusiastically than she thinks is strictly appropriate with her mother looking on.
Then again, she hasn't seen him since this morning. And that's far too many hours to go without kissing Bellamy for her liking.
"Clarke." Abby stands, too, and wraps her in a slightly more restrained hug. "How was the meeting?"
"Fine. Productive. How's chess going?" She tries to return to the question of this surprising new development.
"Could be better." Bellamy admits with an easy grin. "We're not great at it, are we, Abby?"
"We could be better." She echoes.
"Why were you playing chess?" Clarke is still confused on this point. And she thinks that's not surprising, really, given neither of them have made any attempt to explain themselves.
"We thought it would pass the time while we waited for you to get in." Abby shrugs. "I wanted to stay and say hi when you got here."
"And I wanted to get to know your mum a bit better." Bellamy offers, a little quieter than usual, not quite avoiding eye contact, but certainly not seeking it out, either.
"Great." Clarke smiles, supposing that is all the answer she is likely to get. "Don't let me stop you. I'll pull up a chair and watch."
"I'll pull up a chair for you." Bellamy insists.
"Just this once. But you'd better let me move my own furniture once I've had the baby."
"This is nothing to do with you being pregnant." He teases her, brow quirked. "I'm just trying to convince you to help me win at chess."
He does win at chess, in the end. Or, rather, they win at chess, because sure enough Clarke does help him out, amidst much complaint from Abby that it's hardly fair for the pair of them to team up just because they're in love all of a sudden.
Then Bellamy points out that it's hardly sudden, and that has them all laughing.
Abby doesn't stay long after losing the game, simply hugging Clarke tight, and shaking Bellamy's hand warmly, and then she sets off back to whatever it is that she spends the evenings doing with Kane. And then Clarke finds herself standing on the threshold, leaning up against the door frame, and trying not to fall asleep on her feet.
"I'm going to bed." She announces, not that she thinks the news will exactly take Bellamy by surprise. She's pretty sure he knows her well enough, by now, to be able to read the exhaustion in her face.
"OK. Shall I come with you?"
"Up to you." She tells him with a shrug, because it is. She is so shattered right now that, love him though she does, she couldn't really care less what he chooses to do with his evening.
Without further ado, she turns and makes her way down the corridor. She stops off at the bathroom, and then stumbles into her bedroom, sheds her clothes as quickly as her heavy limbs will permit her to, and falls onto the mattress.
It takes her a few moments to realise that Bellamy has followed her. He doesn't get beneath the covers, though, and that seems a bit odd. Instead, as she blinks wearily up at him, he sits on the edge of the bed and frowns deeply.
"What's wrong?" She frowns back, perplexed.
"Are we OK?" He asks, and before she has time to wonder quite what he means by that, his words seem to be running away with him. "I just feel like we haven't seen each other much these last few days. And you seemed happy when you got in and – well, great kiss. And then I thought you were enjoying having your mum over. But then – it's like you ran away. And – and I know we haven't had sex for a while and I guess I'm wondering if I did something wrong or maybe you're having second thoughts about all this or -"
"Bellamy. It's nothing like that." She finds herself a lot more awake, now, stunned into alertness by his misapprehension. How is it possible, that after everything they have been through, he still has no idea quite how much she loves him?
"It's not?"
"Of course not. Genuinely, I'm just exhausted. I love being pregnant, and I do want us to have more kids in the future, but it's pretty damn tiring."
"There's nothing else wrong?"
"No. I promise. I've lost you too many times to hide anything from you now."
He cracks a wry smile at that, shuffles closer and wraps his arms around her. "I'm sorry. That probably sounded really selfish, complaining like that when you're the one actually carrying the baby."
"It's OK. I understand. I was thinking things like that, back when I first found out I was pregnant and – and pushed you away. Thanks for talking to me about it rather than letting it get to you." She cannot believe, really, how far they have come. The Bellamy of six months ago would never have dared to articulate his insecurities like that.
"Thanks for the honest answer."
She presses her lips to his cheek for something to do, and wonders how to go about phrasing the thing she wishes to say next. "I'm sorry about the sex."
"What?"
"I'm sorry we've not had much of a sex life. I just – I'm so tired all the time, and there's not that much I feel like I can still do." She gestures to the curve of her belly with a frustrated wave of her hand. "Believe me, I miss it as much as you do."
Bizarrely, he brightens a little at that. "You do?"
"Yes." She supposes it probably makes her look a little desperate, to be so sure of her answer to that question, but he has always seemed to think that her enthusiasm for his body is attractive rather than off-putting or needy.
"Lie down." She supposes it is a question, but he appears to have phrased it as an instruction.
"What?"
"Lie down." He repeats. "You don't need to be able to do anything. Let me do the work."
"I don't – I mean – it doesn't seem fair." She tries to explain to him. It's not easy, though, because she's not wearing anything, and he's skimming his fingertips across her breasts and pressing the occasional kiss to her stomach, and it's all a bit distracting.
"I want to." He tells her, shuffling down the bed, until his head is hovering between her legs and his intention is extremely evident. "Trust me, I'll enjoy it at least as much as you will."
"You're sure?"
He nods, that special smirk playing about his lips, his eyes smiling so warmly it makes her heart beat faster just looking at him. And, really, he does seem very genuine about this, does seem to want to do this nice thing for her. And it's been a while.
And, actually, if he intends to stick around for the foreseeable future, she supposes she can make it up to him later. Not that sex is about debts paid and debts owed, of course. No, she knows it's about give and take, and that, actually, when he says he will enjoy it just as much as she will, he really does mean it.
She grins at him a little, and nods, and lies back on the bed.
He was wrong. She works that out quickly. He is not enjoying it as much as she is, because that's simply not possible.
It is not news to her, of course, that his mouth feels a little bit like happiness. He's done this before, rather often, and it's always good. But she's pretty sure it's not usually this good, and she can't work out whether he's trying extra hard today or whether she's all the more ready for it after a couple of weeks of abstaining.
Then she stops trying to work out anything at all. She simply laces her fingers in his hair, and lets him drive her unhinged.
She'd like to be slightly more in control of her wits, really. She thinks that, if she were rather more coherent, she would probably be crushing his skull between her thighs a little less, and would probably be trying not to moan quite so loudly.
No. Wits are for other times, and other places. All there is now, in this moment, is the texture of his hair against her fingertips, and his fingertips against her flesh, and his tongue sending her, sighing loud and long, over the edge.
He doesn't pull back right away. He stays there, for a generous moment, as she grinds against him with little regard for her dignity and rides out the last of the aftershocks.
And then, fingers still knitted into his curls, she eases his head away and cranes her neck to look him in the eyes.
"You were wrong. I enjoyed that more."
"Not true." He makes his way back up the bed and pulls her close. "That was so hot."
She feels the blood rush to her face, and wonders whether he can see her blush. "Thanks."
"I mean it. Doing that, and having you begging for it – and pregnant as well – that was great for me. Not just because it was hot, but because it makes this real, you know?"
"I don't know what you mean." She used to hate not knowing what he meant, she seems to remember, but she knows, now, that he will always explain it to her if she only asks.
"It makes me feel like our relationship is real. We have a sex life that's about making each other happy, not just getting off."
"I get that."
She can see that this is rather a marked contrast from the duty and accidental enjoyment they started with. To her, though, there is more than this. She only hopes he will agree with her.
Carefully, cautiously, she takes a breath, and makes her case.
"And – it makes me happy that we can go a couple of weeks without sleeping together and you not get bored or something."
He understands what she's saying, she can feel it, as well as everything she's not saying. She can feel it in the way his arms tighten around her, and in the soft lips that brush her forehead.
"You're beautiful, and sex with you is great. But that's not the reason I love you."
"What is?" She has been wondering this for a while, if she's being honest.
She almost expects him to prevaricate, to attempt to gloss over the question, but he does not.
"Who else could I love, but you, Clarke? What a stupid question. You were the first person who ever treated me as a human being who mattered in my own right. Not as a brother or a son or a helper or a leader or a guard. You – you sat there and let me cry and told me I was forgiven. How the hell was I ever supposed to love anyone else after that?"
She seems to be crying. Perhaps that's not surprising, given the circumstances.
"You did, though." She reminds him through her tears. "You've been with other people."
"Yeah." He agrees. "I have. And yes, I did love Echo. But not in the way I love you. Not in that way that once had me standing in a lab with a death wave coming and trying to decide whether I would survive getting on that rocket without you."
"It was different for me." She tells him, not that he asked. But she thinks he needs to hear it. "I loved Lexa so much, it took me a while to see past losing her and realise that I needed you by my side. That however many other people I might love along the way, I was always going to end up coming back to you."
a/n Thanks for reading!