AN: Wrapping up the UK and continuing through Europe! Barcelona is another one of my favorites, an absolutely amazing city, and I actually visited Paris for the first time just over a year ago, while I was writing this fic – I even passed the hotel I have our couple staying in, which was kind of fun!
I don't own anything relating to The 100
Chapter title from "Joe le Taxi" by Vanessa Paradis, which is apparently about Paris – I had no idea! The phrase basically translates to "the Seine and its bridges that shine" – I don't speak French so I had to use Google Translate (which goes against all my professional pride and pretty much physically hurt) please don't hold it against me if I got it a little wrong
30
Et La Seine, Et Ses Ponts Qui Brillent
The next morning finds Clarke already in the kitchen when Sasha gets up. They're heading to the British Museum today, and she knows Bellamy will want an early start, so she's making breakfast while he showers.
"Morning," Sasha greets her.
"Morning," she replies, grabbing a mug from one of the cupboards and filling it with coffee before sliding it along the counter. Sasha happily accepts it. "Did you have a good time last night?"
"We did," Sasha confirms, taking a long sip. "And so did you, if I'm not mistaken."
Clarke swallows her own sip before turning to her friend with a confused frown. "Why would you say that?"
A small smile appears on Sasha's lips. "Well, you didn't seem to hear us when we got home around eleven," she expands, wagging her eyebrows a little suggestively.
Clarke immediately feels her cheeks reddening as last night's activities play in her mind. She didn't exactly keep track of the time – after their first quickie right after Wells and Sasha left, they got up to watch some TV and a little later, Bellamy cooked some amazing chili before they went back to bed for round two and, eventually, three – but she knows that she glanced at the clock as they were catching their breaths the third time around, and it was a quarter past eleven.
"Sorry," she apologizes. "I didn't realize we were that loud."
"Oh, no," Sasha immediately assures her, reaching out to squeeze her arm. "We were just passing the guest room at a… an inopportune time, I think. Wells was a little flustered, but you know him – he's still uncomfortable with that sort of thing."
Clarke does know that – in many ways, Wells is the complete opposite of Raven, and this is definitely one of them. Where Raven is very open about her own – and everyone else's – sex life, Wells excuses himself as soon as the topic is raised. Sure, he can tease her about it, like last night before they left, but as soon as it's an actual fact, he gets extremely awkward.
"I won't take it personally if he won't meet my eyes today, then," she says, only half joking, and Sasha laughs.
Bellamy joins them a minute or so later, and Sasha gives Clarke a little wink before taking her coffee into the living room.
"Hey." He steps in behind her and pulls her against his chest for a moment, placing a kiss on her temple.
"Hey. Coffee?"
"Please."
She hands him a full mug before turning back to the stove and turning the burner off, starting to portion out the scrambled eggs onto four plates.
"You ready to let your internal geek out today?" she asks, and Bellamy snorts.
"I'm pretty sure there's nothing 'internal' about my geekiness," he objects.
She gives him a thorough once over and has to admit that he does look more the part with his glasses – he decided that it would be too much hassle to bring his usual contacts on the trip, with the case and the bottles of solution. He did pack a couple of boxes of daily disposable contacts, but they're not as comfortable, so he's wearing his glasses most of the time. And, OK, maybe Clarke encourages him to wear them. She might have a thing for his glasses, so sue her.
"You do have the whole hot history professor thing going," she says, handing him a plate.
"Oh yeah?" He leans down to kiss her and she happily returns it.
"Morning!"
They almost jump at Wells' loud and overly cheerful voice, and Clarke glances over at her friend, who is resolutely staring at the floor.
"Morning, Wells," she replies. "Eggs are just done."
"Thanks, Clarke." He looks up carefully, looking relieved when he sees that she and Bellamy are now several feet apart.
"No problem." She holds out a plate for him as well, and can't help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when he grabs it.
Wells rolls his eyes. "Shut up."
"I didn't even say anything!" she objects, chuckling as he quickly leaves the kitchen.
Bellamy's giving her a look with raised eyebrows. "What was that?"
"Nothing, I just like messing with him," she tells him. "Wells is easily embarrassed and apparently, we… didn't hear them come home last night."
He frowns for a moment, before realizing what she means and letting out a groan. "Seriously? I'm just making a great impression on all your friends, aren't I?"
Clarke puts her own plate down on the kitchen table, nodding at him to join her before sitting down.
"Don't worry about it," she says when he's sitting next to her. "Wells definitely won't bring it up, and Sasha had her fun ribbing me a little before you came downstairs. It's not a big deal. Now eat your eggs, the museum opens at ten and I'm assuming you want to be the first person through the doors."
They're not the first through the doors, since there's a bit of a line when they get there a few minutes before ten, but they're inside soon enough, and for the next four hours, Clarke happily follows Bellamy from exhibit to exhibit, listening to his excited explanations of what they're looking at. She manages to get him to agree to a short break when her stomach protests loudly a little after two in the afternoon, and they grab some sandwiches in the Court Café.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks after a moment. "Be honest."
"Of course I am," she assures him, because she is. She might not be as excited about the different exhibits as he is, but everything really is interesting. Plus, she loves seeing him so enthusiastic.
He gives her a long, scrutinizing look. "We can head out if you want," he then says, but she can hear the reluctance in his voice. "We've done the lower floor and the ground floor, we only have the upper floor left, and that's just…" he checks his map "…oh, all of Europe, parts of ancient Greece, Rome and Egypt, and the Middle East."
"Don't be silly," Clarke tells him. "I picked Friday because the museum stays open late. We have the Jack the Ripper tour at seven thirty, so we can't stay until they close, but I wasn't planning on going back to the house before that, so as long as we leave by… six thirty, we should be fine."
Bellamy maintains eye contact for another long moment, as if expecting her to change her mind, but when she doesn't, he smiles.
"If you're sure."
They end up leaving a little after six, catching a cab to Whitechapel to have time to grab some food before the walking tour in the famous serial killer's footsteps starts.
Clarke's not completely sure what she expected out of the tour, but she's riveted as soon as their guide starts his tale, and the projections of Victorian London really makes the story come to life.
"That was amazing," Bellamy notes when they're on the tube almost two hours later.
"It really was," she agrees, leaning her head against his shoulder.
"Tired?" he asks, squeezing her around the waist.
"A little," she replies. "It's been a pretty long day."
He hums in agreement. "Tomorrow going to be better?"
"Not too heavy, no," Clarke confirms. "Just the Portobello market and then a show in the evening."
They do end up strolling around the market and antiques arcade for five hours on Saturday, but that's including a lunch break. Perusing all the small stalls that have popped up along Portobello Road and the side streets is less mentally draining than the British Museum was, possibly because Clarke's always loved the market, ever since she discovered it back in 1956, shortly after the former food market had been invaded by antiques dealers.
She's not really looking to buy anything, she just loves exploring, but while Wells and Bellamy check out a stall selling sports memorabilia, she does come across an old men's watch that she immediately picks up.
The band is metal, the face simple and grey with a little date window that's showing the wrong date, and the minute hand is missing. It still runs, though, the second hand ticking away through its circle.
"How much for this one?" she asks the man behind the counter.
He takes a quick look at the watch and then raises his eyebrow at her. "It's got a missing hand, miss, you sure you want it? No returns or exchanges." He points at the little sign saying just that at the corner of the table.
"I know," she assures him. "How much?"
He scratches his beard for a moment. "Twenty-five?"
It's her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "You just said it's missing a hand. Ten," she counters.
"Deal."
She hands over the note and he puts the watch in a little paper bag for her.
"I thought you said you were just browsing?" Sasha asks as they leave the stall and Clarke glances around to make sure Wells and Bellamy still aren't nearby before nodding.
"Yeah, I…" She pauses, because she's not really sure what drew her to the watch in the first place. It's nice, sure, but there were other nice watches, with all the hands, in that stall. Still, when her eyes landed on this one, she just knew she had to get it. "I don't know, it was just something about it…"
Sasha just nods. "I get it, sometimes you just know. Are you thinking a present for Bellamy?"
"Yeah." Clarke nods. "His birthday's coming up in March, while we're in Rome." She hadn't really been planning on getting him an actual present – apart from his request for some sexy lingerie for her – but something about the watch just called out to her. What, she doesn't know – she's never actually seen him wear a watch, he always checks the time on his phone. But an idea is forming somewhere in the back of her mind.
"There's this watch repair shop close to the group home where I work," Sasha tells her. "Do you want me to see if they might have a hand for it? Get it fixed before you leave?"
Clarke gives her a smile. "That would be great, thank you." She checks to make sure the guys are still some ways ahead before handing the watch over to Sasha. "If you have time, could you also look into getting it engraved? I could do it in Paris, probably, but I don't want him catching on."
"Of course," Sasha agrees, slipping the bag into her purse. "What do you want it to say?"
Clarke writes down the phrase that just popped into her mind in the small notebook she almost always carries with her and rips out the page, handing it to Sasha.
"Thank you."
Sasha squeezes her hand. "Of course."
They catch up to the boys and continue exploring.
They're back at the house by four in the afternoon, so they can relax for about an hour before heading to Piccadilly Circus for an early dinner and then the Prince of Wales Theatre for a showing of The Book of Mormon.
Sunday is all free, since they managed to fit in the activities Clarke had planned for that day earlier in the week, so they just lounge around the house, having a long breakfast and relaxing.
Sometime after noon, Wells suggests heading to Covent Garden for lunch, and since nobody has anything against that plan, they spend the afternoon exploring the Apple Market and surrounding shops.
They wrap up the day ordering Chinese and – on Clarke's insistence, to get in the mood for their tour of the Harry Potter studio in the morning – watching The Philosopher's Stone.
They've both been to The Wizarding World Of Harry Potter, Clarke in Orlando and Bellamy in Los Angeles, so they're maybe not quite as amazed by everything they get to see during the studio tour as some of the other visitors. Still, it's more immersive, getting to walk around inside the Great Hall, stroll along Diagon Alley and even step into the Forbidden Forest, and they leave with the memory card in the camera considerably fuller than it was when they arrived.
Since they get back to London in the early afternoon, they decide to tick off the last two stops on their itinerary – the temple London Mithraeum and the roman amphitheater – before calling it a day. When Bellamy's love of Roman history has had its fill, they head home for one last evening with their hosts.
Their flight to Barcelona isn't until the afternoon on Tuesday, so they have an early lunch with Wells and Sasha before heading off.
"Take care, Griffin," Wells mumbles as he hugs Clarke goodbye.
"You too, Jaha," she counters before pulling away.
He doesn't let her go completely, instead grabbing her hand and squeezing it. "Sasha suggested coming to New York later this summer," he says quietly, watching her closely. "I know you'll have Raven, but still, I'd like to be there for you when…"
"Thank you," she cuts him off, pulling him into another hug.
"Of course."
She pulls away a moment later and moves to Sasha, who slips a bag into her jacket pocket before enveloping her in a hug.
"All fixed," she whispers conspiratorially. "And engraving done."
"Thank you," Clarke whispers back, squeezing her friend a little tighter.
They say their goodbyes and are soon on the way to the airport and Spain.
Barcelona is exactly the break that Clarke was hoping for. The only thing they have booked is La Sagrada Família, which they get out of the way on Wednesday morning. The unfinished church is just as magnificent as she remembers, and Bellamy's head swivels from side to side, trying to take in everything at once.
They spend the rest of Wednesday and most of Thursday just strolling around the city, up and down La Rambla, along the narrow streets of Ciutat Vella and through Parc de la Ciutadella. They explore Passeig de Gràcia all the way from Plaça de Catalunya to La Pedrera, with its curved facade. In the late afternoon, they take a cab up to Park Güell, just making it in time for the last entry at six, and watch the sun set over the rooftops below them before the lights flicker on as darkness falls.
By the time they land in a sunny and surprisingly warm Paris the next day, Clarke's gotten her energy levels up enough to be looking forward to the coming week, which will no doubt be busy.
"You ready to have Paris sweep you off your feet?" she asks while they're waiting for their bags.
Bellamy chuckles next to her. "Well, they do call it the city of love."
"Do I need to worry?"
He snorts. "I think you're good."
The cab drops them off outside the hotel an hour later, and for a moment, Bellamy just stares up at the off white façade with its cast iron railings.
"This was one of the hotels you splurged on, right?" he asks, not taking his eyes off the building, voice a little awestruck.
"Yup," Clarke confirms. "Come on, wait until you see the view."
His eyes widen as soon as they enter the hotel lobby and when they actually reach their room and finally see the main reason she booked the hotel – the amazing view of the Eiffel Tower – his jaw actually drops.
She decides to give him a moment to take all of it in, moving around him to unpack a little and check out the bathroom.
When he still hasn't moved when she comes back into the bedroom, she decides it's time to make sure he's not in shock or something.
"You OK?" she asks, dropping down on the bench at the foot of the bed to take her shoes off and change out of the comfy pants she wore on the flight.
He shakes his head once. "Yeah, this is just… amazing."
"Told you," she says with, OK, a slightly smug smile. "Isn't just the view worth…"
"Stop!" Bellamy cuts her off, raising a hand. "I know this place can't be cheap, but just don't tell me what you actually paid. I think I'm better off in the dark, I'm not sure I'd be able to enjoy it if I know for sure that it cost more than my rent."
She can't help but laugh at that. "I wasn't going to tell you what I paid for the room," she assures him. "What I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted me, was 'isn't just the view worth staying here'."
"Oh." He gives her a slightly sheepish smile before crossing the room to the terrace doors. "Absolutely. Can we go outside?"
"Of course."
Clarke stands to pull her jeans up and button them before opening the door and leading the way out onto the terrace beyond.
It's pretty nice, probably mid-fifties, and the sun has started to set to their right, the light reflecting off the metal Eiffel Tower across the Seine. She leans against the railing, breathing in the fresh air, and feels more than hears Bellamy come to a stop next to her.
"So you and Raven stayed here a few years ago?" he asks after a moment, and she shakes her head.
"She and Zeke stayed here when they visited me in… 2010, I think," she replies. "But my apartment didn't have views like these, so we spent most evenings on their terrace. It was late spring, a little warmer than now."
He chuckles and slides an arm around her waist, and she willingly steps closer, wrapping an arm around him as well. "I can see why," he notes quietly, and when she looks up at him, his eyes are trained on the iron structure, so she leans her head against his shoulder and turns her gaze in the same direction.
They stay like that for some time, until the sun has disappeared behind the rooftops, before Bellamy lets out a long breath and straightens up.
"We should probably try to find somewhere to eat," he suggests, checking the time on his phone. "It's almost seven."
"It is?" She looks down at the screen as well, which reads 6:57. "Let's wait a little longer."
He gives her a questioning look. "Why?"
Clarke just turns back to the view. "You'll see."
A few minutes later, the tower is lit up by a yellow light, bright against the almost black sky.
"That's cool," he says.
"There's more."
A moment later, the beam at the top of the tower is lit and then, just after, the entire tower looks like it starts to sparkle.
Bellamy lets out a low whistle. "Wow."
"I know, isn't it beautiful?"
He hums in agreement, his arm around her tightening.
"We're going to the Eiffel Tower, right?" he asks a few minutes later, when the light show has ended and they're back in the hotel room.
"Yup," Clarke confirms, not even needing to check their itinerary. "Tuesday, all booked."
"Good," he replies with a nod, fingers picking at the outside pocket of his backpack almost absentmindedly for a moment before he grabs his jacket. "Ready?"
For a second, she considers asking if something's up, but he smiles at her and she pushes the thought aside.
It's probably nothing.
Surprisingly enough, Paris puts its best foot forward when they leave the hotel on Saturday morning – it's a little colder than yesterday, but the sky above them is blue and the sun is shining.
Clarke smiles up at the few fluffy clouds that are drifting across the sky. "We're really having luck with the weather so far," she notes. "I was honestly expecting rain both here and in London."
"Now you've jinxed it," Bellamy complains. "It's going to start raining any moment, just you wait."
"Not from those clouds," she counters. "But I promise, if it does start raining, I will take full responsibility."
He just shakes his head, an amused expression on his face. "That's all I ask. Come on, let's get going."
With that, he holds out a hand for her, and Clarke takes it with a smile, taking the lead when they reach the street. She's always loved Paris, and strolling around the city with Bellamy, she remembers why.
They start at the Arc de Triomphe, which is just twenty minutes from the hotel, before heading down Champs-Élysées towards Place de la Concorde. They stroll around Jardin des Tuileries for a bit, checking out the different statues, before leaving the well-manicured lawns and trees to admire the glass pyramid of the Louvre.
They grab lunch at a cute little café just beyond the museum, before backtracking and crossing the Seine at Pont des Arts. The thousands upon thousands of padlocks, attached to the bridge by couples visiting the city of love, that she remembers from her last few years in Paris are gone – she does have a vague memory of reading something about it a few years ago – instead replaced by sheets of Perspex covering the metal railing, to keep new locks from being attached.
Some seem determined to get their lock on the bridge, though, and there are locks attached to the street lights around the bridge, as well as to what looks like bicycle locks wrapped around the lamp posts on the bridge itself. There are even a few tiny locks fastened around bolts on the actual structure.
The afternoon is spent exploring the seventh arrondissement, working their way back towards the hotel slowly, past numerous museums and little parks. They take the time to walk around the whole of Les Invalides, admiring the magnificent building from all angles, before continuing to Champ de Mars and eventually reaching the Eiffel Tower. Well, as close to the tower they can get without a ticket, since you can't walk under the actual structure anymore.
"Fuck, it's tall," Bellamy notes, craning his neck to take in the top of the tower.
Clarke glances at him. "Yeah… you ready to climb all the way to the top?"
He pales at her question. "We have to climb the stairs all the way up?"
She was planning on dragging her joke out a little, but she can't help but laugh at the look on his face. "You can take the stairs to the first and second level, but I did get tickets with lift access," she assures him. "Though there can be lines if it's busy. Last time I was here, with Raven and Zeke, Raven got sick of waiting for the elevators and dragged us up the stairs. All 674 steps."
Bellamy shakes his head incredulously. "I'm fine waiting for the elevator," he says. "I mean, we won't be in any hurry, right?"
"Nope, I didn't book anything else on Wednesday," she confirms. "So we can spend all day here if we want. Definitely enough time to wait for the elevators."
They hang around the area a little longer, checking out the tower from all sides before grabbing coffee at one of the little stands by the nearby carousel. A few kids are riding the different figures, laughing along with the cheerful music, and they stop to watch them for a while.
"So, first impressions, what do you think?" Clarke asks after a while, looping her arm through Bellamy's and pulling him along towards the bridge.
"Definitely the best full day in Paris ever," he tells her, wrapping an arm around her waist in turn and squeezing.
"It's your first full day in Paris," she points out amusedly, earning a chuckle.
"So? It's been amazing, exactly what I wanted today – laid back sightseeing with my favorite person in the world."
She gives him a look. "Are you getting sappy? Is that what's happening here, the romantic idea of Paris making you all mushy?"
"Shut up," he grumbles, pinching her side, but does join in her laugh as they cross the Seine.
It's still relatively warm out, so they end up taking a bit of a detour through Jardins du Trocadéro, checking out the Palais de Chaillot, before returning to the hotel.
Sunday is spent in a similar fashion, only this time, they start off in the opposite direction. The weather continues to cooperate, the sun shining down on them from a mostly blue sky, despite Bellamy's prediction that Clarke's jinx would lead to rain.
It's a bit of a walk, but after an hour or so, they reach their first stop – the Panthéon. They spend longer than Clarke had planned here, exploring the crypt with its many graves, taking in Foucault's pendulum, and climbing to the top of the colonnade to admire the view. Still, it's only a little after noon when they set out again, this time with Notre Dame as their goal.
They start in the towers – Clarke's calf muscles are already sore from the climb of the Arc de Triomphe yesterday, but she toughs it out – before exploring the cathedral proper and the crypt across the square, which isn't a crypt in the traditional sense, with tombs or graves, but an archeological exhibition.
Once Bellamy's had his fill of the old Roman ruins, they emerge into the sunny afternoon and once again cross the Seine to Île Saint-Louis. Since both of their stomachs are grumbling by now, they quickly enter a café just across the bridge, and enjoy a wonderful brunch with views of the river and the cathedral.
"Where to now?" Bellamy asks eagerly when they leave the café a while later, and Clarke can't help but laugh.
"God, you're like a kid in a candy store," she tells him, squeezing his arm affectionately and pulling him along towards the other side of the island and the bridge leading over to Le Marais.
He chuckles. "I know, I can't help it. And this is just the beginning – wait until we get to Italy and Greece, I'm going to get even worse."
She can practically picture it now, Bellamy darting between sights and ruins, her trying to keep up.
She can't wait.
"Well, we don't have anything else booked today," she says. "But I thought I'd show you my old stomping grounds, my favorite part of Paris."
"Ah." He glances down at her with a smile. "I'd love that."
They follow the river for a while, perusing the little stalls set up on the wall, before cutting along Boulevard Henri IV to Place de la Bastille, once home to the famous fortress but now really just a large roundabout surrounding a memorial for the July Revolution of 1830. From there, Clarke leads the way through increasingly narrow streets to Place des Vosges, where she stops in the middle of the little park and closes her eyes, breathing in not just the air but the feel of Paris. The trees are bare, the fountain empty of water and there are no kids playing in the large sandbox, but the atmosphere is still somehow the same as during long, warm summer days. She's always loved the city, and she's really not completely sure why she hasn't lived here more. She might need to rectify that.
"So this is where I lived," she says when she opens her eyes again to fins Bellamy watching her.
"Here?" he asks amusedly, looking around them.
She rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs. "Not in the park, obviously. Over there." She nods at the building in question, along one side of the park.
He looks where she indicated and lets out a low whistle. "Nice. I'm assuming you don't still have that apartment, since we're staying at a hotel?"
"It was never mine, really, it's the Soul Keeper building in Paris, or one of them, so you get an apartment during the period you're assigned to the city, and then someone else gets it once you leave," she explains.
"You have your own buildings?" he asks incredulously, and she shrugs.
"Yeah. All cities and towns with more than a dozen or so Soul Keepers have one or more buildings with apartments that we can claim when we're assigned somewhere. It's convenient when you're new to a city and don't really know it, and especially in the cut-throat rental market that's in most major cities these days, it's really handy."
He nods thoughtfully while she talks. "I guess that makes sense. Or as much sense as any of this whole Soul Keeper business makes, anyway…"
Clarke has to laugh at the frustrated note in his voice and reaches out to interlace their fingers. "Come on, this is the oldest area of Paris, there are so many historic buildings that I just know you're going to love it."
AN: Before anyone calls me out – yes, I know there was a fire at Notre Dame last year (I was actually there just a few weeks after it happened, at the beginning of May), but as I started writing this back in 2018, it's set during the fall of 2018 and winter/spring/summer of 2019 – I know this isn't exactly clear most of the time so I just wanted to address it. The trip to Paris takes place February 22 to March 2 2019, before the fire happened, hence the visit to the cathedral!