a/n Thank you to the lovely folks who reviewed that last chapter. I'm overwhelmed by the love this story has been shown and by all your encouragement, and by the kindness of those of you who have been recommending this story to others. Thank you to Stormkpr for being the best beta a penguin could ask for. Happy reading!
Clarke expects it to be hard to remember how to smile, but it is not. And she knows that this is partly because she has never hated herself less in her life – or at least not for quite some decades. But the greatest part of all, surely, is the fact that she has never been loved by those around her more.
Her friends get her through it, friends that once upon a time she hardly expected ever to see again, let alone depend on. There are Murphy and Emori, inviting her to the bar often and joyfully, persisting gently even though sometimes she has to say no. And, most importantly, understanding why she sometimes has to say no. There is Raven, clapping her on the back and showing her a new photo-voltaic cell, or laughing at her inability to operate a lazer-comm link to Miller out in the field. There is Echo, steadfast in her loyalty, the shoulder Clarke least expected to cry on, this time last year.
There are her family, too, of course. Abby and Kane seem to have made it their life goal to set a new standard in domestic felicity as an example to all of Sanctum, and continue to be their granddaughter's first choice as swimming companions. Octavia makes a full recovery, and is striding back out into danger as soon as she deems herself fit for duty. After all, she is a trained medic, now. She sees no sense in waiting around for someone else to clear her for action. And she's making progress of other kinds, too, learning to laugh more consistently for a start. And, she tells Clarke proudly one day, her projection of the date on which she will forgive herself has moved up as her skill grows – she's now only eighty-seven years from absolution.
And then, of course, there is Bellamy, all laughter and lovemaking when the going is good, holding her close when she can do nothing but weep. Holding her together, and refusing to let her fall apart. Loving her, even on those days when she cannot quite manage to love herself.
But most of all there is Madi, her infectious laugh seeping into every corner of their family home, her big heart and love of adventure getting Clarke out of bed again and again and again. Until, one day, she finds that she needs no encouragement to get up and get on with it. No, she genuinely wants to wake and greet the day for her own sake.
Of course, there will never be a last time that she weeps for the girl that she found and then carried and then lost. This is not something that will be cured, nor something that will just go away.
She wouldn't want it to just go away. That chapter of their story is part of who they are, now. And she will carry it with her always, and some days the burden she bears will be a heavy one. And on other days it will be lighter, and that is simply how life will be lived.
Of one thing, though, she is certain. What she is doing, here, now, with Bellamy and Madi, is far more than just surviving.
…...
The problem after that is the guilt. It's silly, she knows it is, but she feels guilt for so many things. Guilt for remembering how to smile a little too easily, when her baby is gone, even though she is really still here. Guilt for having a happy future with her happy family at all, when so many others will not get this chance.
She knows what she has to do with that guilt, now. She has to tell someone.
Lunch with Bellamy's Spacekru family is a common occurrence, these days. In fact, she supposes that it is long past time for her to start thinking of them as her Spacekru family, too, for all that she missed out on those years by their sides. And yeah, sure, emotional confessions over a bowl of soup did not used to be her strong suit, but she's been working on a few things in recent months.
"I just feel so guilty." She tells the table at large, in a more-or-less random break in the conversation.
They take it in their stride, of course.
"There's no point." Raven tells her, pragmatic as ever, but somehow better at tactful mind-reading than Clarke recalls from days gone by. "I understand where you're coming from, sure, but feeling guilty isn't going to bring anyone back from the dead, Clarke."
"But it might remind me not to make the same mistakes again."
"I don't think you need guilt for that." Raven murmurs, pulling her into a half-hug despite the bustle of the mess hall around them. "You've learnt from the past, and that will stay with you. But you can remember it without feeling guilty all the damn time."
"I'll try." She murmurs. When Raven puts it like that, it gives her a little hope that she might even succeed.
"I felt guilty every day of my life." Echo mutters, now, studiously avoiding eye contact. "Ever since I was a child, and I had to do something I will never forgive myself for. I'll tell you all about it one day, I want to. But I'm not ready to do that yet."
"We'll be here to hear it when you are." Clarke murmurs.
"I know you will. The point I'm making is – it was a waste of my time. It was a waste of my energy. And I realised that when I got here, that I wanted to get on with doing better rather than hating myself for all that I've done wrong. I think that's why I didn't find it as difficult to break up with Bellamy as I could have done. I took it as a chance to do something for the best for all of us, and say goodbye to some of that guilt."
"Thank you for saving me." Clarke whispers. It was always going to come down to this, she realises that now. "I know that, at the time, you didn't realise that was what you were doing. You thought you were saving your Commander and your people, and maybe Bellamy, too. But – you ended up saving me. I would never have made it through this year without him. Or without all of you guys, either."
Echo gives a shrug, the barest ghost of a smile about her lips. "It's what I do."
There are a couple of relieved laughs at that, but Clarke cannot help but notice that Emori is still silent, nervously biting her lip.
"What is it?" She asks, worried for her friend.
"I have some news." Emori tells them. "And it's good news, really it is, only the timing's a bit insensitive and I didn't want to upset you, Clarke, and -"
"Congratulations." Clarke cuts her off, beaming widely. There is surely only one thing Emori can mean by that. "How far along are you?"
"What?" Raven catches up, jaw slack in amazement.
"I'm pregnant." Emori confirms with a relieved smile. "About two months. You're all going to be aunts!"
Yes, Clarke muses. Aunts. That sounds about right.
…...
Family days out present something of a challenge, in the following weeks. There are the obvious challenges, of course, in that Clarke is still a bit weaker than she would like, her endurance not really up to much, and therefore a long hike is out of the question. There is the challenge, too, of finding a matching moment of calm in the schedules of all of these relatives who used to lead humanity, and who now do things that are, perhaps, even more important. Between Octavia's long trips into the field and Bellamy's regular hours with the cadets, not to mention Clarke and Kane's unpredictable workloads, there are not that many days when they all overlap. And, of course, now that she is well again, Madi is eager to be in school, for all that she learns little there that she does not already know.
The biggest challenge, though, is deciding where to draw the line around this family that is expanding by the day. Because ever since Emori decided she was to be an aunt, Clarke has been thinking that, really, Spacekru ought to be included in the definition they use for their family outings, too. And then, obviously, Indra is like a mother to Octavia, and a sister to Kane, and therefore is naturally related to the whole lot of them. There is Jordan, as well, who is somehow a relation of some sort. And Miller is definitely Bellamy's brother, so that would mean inviting Jackson, too. And by this point, surely there is no sense in leaving Niylah in the Medical Centre alone?
They go for a rather lazy way of circumventing all these challenges, in the end. They simply decide on a day, when they will meander slowly to the lake, and share the date with what feels like half of Sanctum. And then they sit back and decide that they will enjoy the company of whoever manages to show up. After all, they have their whole lives ahead of them, to go on other adventures, with other members of their kru.
Most of them make it, in the end, an odd assortment of people born in space and on the ground. And one very special little girl, born so recently and yet so long ago on this very moon.
Clarke stifles a giggle as they set out into the trees after breakfast. Murphy and Miller are throwing things at each other for no apparent reason, while Raven chastises them affectionately. Bellamy, meanwhile, is carrying an enormous pack, with enough provisions to feed a small army.
"Are you expecting snow?" Clarke asks, with a teasing gesture to the autumn leaves that surround them.
"No." He looks puzzled, but he's holding her hand tightly, so all is basically well. "Why do you ask?"
"You seem to be carrying a lot of rations."
He shrugs, or tries to. He doesn't manage to move his shoulders very far, weighted down as they are with his pack. "I thought I should carry the food. You're still recovering, and Raven has her leg. And O just got back yesterday and she looks exhausted, and -"
"And you're still trying to bear everything, so we don't have to?"
He admits defeat at that, a little shamefaced. Calls a halt, and swings the bag down from his shoulders. Opens it, pulls one solitary item from the pack, and tosses it towards Madi.
"An apple bar? Thanks, Dad!"
Bellamy grins up at Clarke, then, resealing his bag before hefting it back onto his shoulders. He retakes her hand, and they keep walking.
"Better?" He asks, squeezing her fingers. "I'm sharing the burdens that matter, Clarke. I promise. I'm doing alright."
"I'm doing alright, too."
By the time they arrive at the lake, Octavia has quite a lot of leaves in her hair, and no one is willing to admit to having been the one to throw them. They take great delight in blaming Indra, on the simple basis that she is not present and seems like a pretty unlikely candidate anyway. Clarke suspects that it was Kane, actually, as he avoids eye contact and picks a leaf carefully from the hem of his sweater sleeve.
There is swimming after that, of course, Murphy doing a tasteless and rather frightening impression of a sea monster, Abby splashing water at anyone and everyone before they have a chance to get her.
And Clarke and Bellamy sit, arms around each other, on that same spot where they sat the last time they were here. She remembers it all too vividly, as if it were mere moments ago, that sudden flash of realisation, the heartbeat in which she knew she was in love.
He has read her mind, of course. He does that a lot, these days.
"I love you, Clarke."
"I love you, Bellamy." She echoes. "And I love the family we've built together. I hope it will only keep growing."
Based on the kiss he presses to her lips, a kiss rather too heated for a family expedition on a chill autumn day, he is in complete agreement with her.
…...
Clarke's birthday starts off not as any other day, but as a good number of days – with Bellamy's morning wood pressed into her butt cheek. And then, of course, she cannot resist the urge to wiggle against him a little, and feel him grow only harder, and because he's no idiot his hand finds her breast and his thumb teases her nipple and – well. That's an invitation she's not going to turn down.
She flips over, kisses him hungrily. Makes no secret of her enthusiasm for this particular kind of alarm clock as she weaves her fingers into his curls and holds his mouth against hers.
He tries, halfheartedly, to object, pulling his lips away just far enough to offer to take his mouth down on her. But she's not really interested in that, this morning. She wants him, all of him, around her and against her and inside of her. And if she's being perfectly honest she sort of wants them to make a start on expanding their family.
She gets what she wants, of course. She mostly does, in the bedroom, when she dares to get as far as expressing an opinion. And so it is that he rolls himself easily on top of her, kissing her all the while. Warms her up, slowly, infuriatingly slowly, because this morning she does not need a lot of help to creep closer to the edge.
By the time he eases himself inside of her, she is already gasping his name. And as he starts to build up that now-familiar rhythm, it is all she can do to bury her face in his collarbone and dig her fingernails into his butt cheeks.
He likes that. She can tell. She's become something of an expert, over recent months, in the subtly different tones with which he cries her name during sex. And this particular cadence means he's enjoying himself, enjoying himself a lot. It means that the edge is closing in on him, too, and that he's ready to risk falling apart for her.
He spares a hand, somehow, to slip between them and urge her on, but she pushes it away with a moan. She doesn't need that help, not today. She just needs him, his hardness, his body, his love -
"I love you, Clarke." He pants against her ear. "I love you so damn much."
She comes unhinged, then. She usually does. He's got to know her a little too well, of late. And then he's spilling inside of her, too, and she cannot help but feel that this particular birthday is off to a rather auspicious start.
She holds him close, their bodies still literally joined at the hips, as he regains control of his breathing, and she regains control of her heart.
No, that's a lost cause. He's had control of that for a while, now. An eternity, even.
They do make it out of bed eventually, and pull on their clothes for the day. She knows little about what lies ahead of her this morning, is aware only that Madi and Bellamy have decided that she is to spend the day in their company being, in their words, spoiled like a princess. It is with some trepidation, then, that she makes it to the living room, where Madi is already sitting on the sofa reading some improbably heavy book about Greek heroes.
"Nice of you to join me." The teenager greets both of her parents with an adolescent smirk that she has, evidently, learnt from her father. "Are you having a good birthday morning, Mum?"
Clarke does not answer that, sure that she would combust from embarrassment if she attempted to do so.
"Behave, Madi." Bellamy's rebuke has no heat to it. "Come on, let's give your mum her presents."
"Presents?" Clarke murmurs, a little taken aback. "You didn't have to get me presents."
"You got me presents last birthday." Bellamy reminds her, grinning widely and holding out a parcel wrapped in brown paper.
She doesn't bother protesting further, too excited at the prospect of seeing what he looks quite so pleased about. It all starts to make sense rather quickly, really, as she pulls aside the paper to reveal folds of soft pink fabric. She shakes out the gift gently, revealing an uncomplicated dress, perhaps just shorter than knee length, with a deep neckline and gently flared skirt. A pastel pink peacetime dress. It is, essentially, very similar to her precious blue dress, and she smiles at the thought.
"This looks familiar." She teases him.
"I didn't want to get something over the top that you'd hate." He says, an apology in his voice. "So I played it pretty safe. But I thought that – well, you'll look beautiful in it."
"And I'll look happy." She assures him, pressing her lips to his cheek. "I'll look at peace, and I'll look like the mother of your child."
Madi is evidently bored of her parents being sentimental, as she pushes the next item into Clarke's hand.
"I didn't wrap it." The girl informs her, as if she couldn't possibly notice that for herself. "But – yeah – here."
It is a sketchbook, that much is clear. And Clarke wastes no time in opening it up, and beginning to flip through the pages. On the first page is a drawing of her with Bellamy, laughing over a chessboard. Then there is Octavia, dressed for a mission, hefting her med kit on her shoulder. Abby and Kane, swimming messily. Spacekru playing catch on the sandy shore of the lake.
Then she reaches the final page, and tears spring to her eyes. But they are happy tears, she likes to think. Or they are, at the very least, not wholly sad. They are just tears of emotion, because it is only healthy to have mixed feelings about this particular picture.
It is a sketch of young Madi, six years old. A copy of that drawing that Clarke had to leave behind when the world burned. She can hardly believe, really, that her daughter remembers this now, can believe still less the accuracy with which she has managed to copy it.
"I thought you might like to remember it." Madi whispers, trepidation in her voice. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
"It's OK." Clarke reassures her gently, pulling her in for a hug. "They're not only sad tears."
"That's good." Madi decides, curling into her embrace. "And I wanted Dad to be able to see that picture, too."
"It's great." Bellamy agrees, voice thick with emotion. "It's good to see some of the years I missed out on."
"Happy birthday." Madi tells her mother, pulling away to show her a careful smile.
"Yeah." Bellamy chimes in. "Happy birthday, Clarke."
Happy birthday is a sentiment she can definitely agree with.
a/n Thanks for reading! Just the epilogue to go now.