AN: If I remember correctly (it's been a while since I wrote this), this chapter and the next were originally one, but it ended up waaaaay too long, so I split them in two, which means another emotional chapter building to… well, I don't need to say it
I don't own anything relating to The 100
Chapter title from "As I'm Leaving" by David Gray
See the end of the chapter for warnings
62
To the Soul of Everything
"Come on, bed time," Bellamy says when the door to the apartment has closed behind them.
Clarke's shaking her head before she's even processed the words properly. "No, I'm not sleeping. I can't… I know it's only a few hours, but I want every moment I can get, OK?"
He reaches for her and she steps into his embrace willingly. "I know, OK?" he tells her. "But I know you didn't sleep much last night, and things are going to be… rough, so can you please come to bed and at least try to get some rest? It would make me feel better."
She buries her face against his throat. "What if you're gone when I wake up?"
"Not going to happen," he assures her, continuing before she can object that he can't know that. "I asked Raven, OK? Not for the exact time, but roughly, and she said evening. So I promise I will still be here when you wake up."
He doesn't say it, but the 'one last time' still hangs in the air between them.
"OK," she agrees, still a little reluctant, though she knows he's right.
"Thank you." His lips brush her hair before he steps back.
Clarke immediately misses the warmth of his arms around her, a horrible taste of what her life is going to be like soon enough. But then he takes her hand instead and pulls her along towards the bedroom, and she tries to push everything else aside.
Bastet is asleep at the foot of the bed and gives Bellamy a dirty look when he nudges her so he can get the bedspread off. As soon as it's gone, though, she jumps back onto the bed, turns in a circle, and goes right back to sleep in the same spot.
Clarke feels a little like she's moving through molasses, her entire body heavy and reluctant, but she lets him guide her into the bathroom and brushes her teeth obligingly, lifts her arms when he tugs on the hem of her dress and lets him pull it off, gets her bra off herself and crawls under the comforter when he pushes it back for her.
He rounds the bed and manages to get in without disturbing the cat again. "I'm setting my alarm for five forty," he tells her, tapping at his phone. "Sunrise is at five forty-eight. Do you want me to let you sleep, or…?"
"No," she replies, rolling into him as soon as he's put the phone away. "Wake me up." If she actually does manage to fall asleep, she doesn't want to miss his last sunrise.
Bellamy gets the comforter settled over both of them, shifting a little to get more comfortable and wrap his arms around her. "OK. Night."
"Night."
Clarke was almost a hundred percent sure she wouldn't be able to sleep, but apparently her mind disagreed, because the next thing she knows, Bellamy's alarm is blaring from the bedside table and she's alone in bed.
Fear, cold and crippling, grips her and for a moment, she's convinced that Raven was wrong, or that the time has changed, or something, because he wouldn't leave her alone now, knowing she would panic if she woke up and he was gone, would he?
But then the bathroom door opens and there he is, smiling at her sheepishly. "Sorry, I thought I'd have time to go to the bathroom, but apparently not." Her limbs finally start working again and she clambers out of bed and throws herself into his arms, which go around her automatically. "Hey, it's OK, I'm here."
She doesn't respond to that, just clings to him for a long moment before slowly letting go. "Sorry."
He reaches out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't apologize. You want to hug me all day, go ahead. I can carry you around, koala style."
Clarke's mouth tugs up involuntarily at that and he looks pleased with himself. "Sunrise?" she reminds him, and he nods.
"Right. I doubt anyone's going to see, but we should probably still put on clothes."
So she pulls on her robe, and he gets a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, and then they climb up to the roof.
The sky above and behind them, over Manhattan, is still dark, but the horizon to the east is already brightening when they get up there. It's still warm, probably around the same temperature as when they got home earlier, but Bellamy still wraps himself around her, chin leaning against her shoulder, as they watch a new day begin.
His last.
It's not the most spectacular sunrise they've seen over the last few months – that title probably belongs to the one at the Grand Canyon – but it is still beautiful, the way the golden rays slowly climb over the rooftops, chasing the shadows of pre-dawn away, before the sun finally rises high enough to actually peak over the buildings.
Clarke feels him let out a deep breath behind her when it does and she wraps her own arms around his, which are already wrapped around her, to pull them tighter against her. A moment later, his lips brush her temple.
"Bed for a few more hours?" he suggests quietly.
She knows Bellamy means to sleep, which she has no intention of doing. "Sure," she says anyway, letting him pull her along back down the stairs and into the apartment.
Bastet was already gone from the bed when they got up earlier, and Clarke spots her slinking into the guest room when they pass, so when they're back in the bedroom, she kicks the door closed behind them.
Bellamy raises an eyebrow, since he knows Bastet hates closed doors and will whine and probably scratch at the door until she gets bored or they let her in, but he doesn't have time to say anything before Clarke pushes him back against the door and pulls his mouth down to hers.
He does return the kiss, one hand sliding into her hair to tilt her head a little and give them a better angle, the other anchoring on her hip to pull her closer, but he also slows it down, tempering her intensity with slow strokes of his tongue against hers.
Clarke briefly considers taking back control, speeding things up, but she's not actually impatient for the sex part, she just wants him close, just like this. So she lets him lead, lets him turn them around so she's the one up against the wall, lets him untie the robe and push it off her shoulders. When he breaks the kiss to focus on her throat and chest, though, she reaches between them to get the tie in his sweatpants undone and pushes them off his hips. He kicks them to the side and gets his t-shirt while he's at it, and then he's stepping into her again, pressing her up against the wall with his own body.
"When I said 'bed' I was thinking we'd sleep for a little longer," Bellamy murmurs, voice sounding amused, against her shoulder before nipping at her collar bone.
"Mmm, but my plan is so much better," she replies, letting her nails rake down his chest and abs, making him shiver.
"So this is how it's going to be today, huh?" he continues, retaliating by sliding both hands up her sides to cover her breasts, and she arches her back against him. "Nonstop sex?"
"We both know nonstop sex isn't as fun as it sounds," Clarke notes, letting out a gasp when he twirls her nipples between his fingers. "But lots of sex, yup. With intermittent breaks for, you know, food or whatever."
He chuckles before straightening up to kiss her again. "Good priorities."
She doesn't respond to that, instead shimmying out of her panties before pushing his boxers down enough for him to get the idea. He shifts back half a step to get rid of them completely and then hooks her leg around his hip, grinding against her.
"I was going to eat you out," Bellamy says, sounding almost disappointed. "But you just want to go for the main attraction?"
His words make her shiver with anticipation. "Later," she tells him, reaching between them to wrap around him, pumping him slowly a couple of times just to make sure they're on the same page, and then lining him up. "I'm good, trust me."
He hums, leaning down to kiss her again, and pushes forward, sliding into her slowly. When he bottoms out, he stills, focusing completely on the kiss for a moment, turning it deep and dirty, and Clarke has to nudge him with her heel to get him to start moving.
When he does, though, it's with determination, deep, hard thrusts that send shockwaves of pleasure through her. She wraps an arm around his neck, not that it seems like he wants to stop kissing her, but still, and presses closer. His hands roam all over her body, lighting a fire in their wake, and when one slides between them to rub her clit and the other finds her breast, it only takes a moment before she's throwing her head back and coming apart around him with a loud moan.
He slows his movements as she rides the high, peppering her throat and chest with kisses, and when she comes down, she pulls him back up.
"Bed?" she suggests, pushing gently against his chest, and Bellamy chuckles but does pull out of her and step back.
"That's what I suggested from the start," he points out with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes and nudges him backwards until she can shove him gently onto the bed.
He falls back, pulling her down on top of him, and seems content to just make out. Which Clarke is fine with for, like, a minute, but then she reaches between them to wrap around him and slides down.
He groans when she rolls her hips, hands trailing down to anchor on her thighs, and matches her pace when she starts moving.
She starts out slow, but it doesn't last long – her orgasm hasn't quite let go and she can feel it building again – and when she speeds up, it seems to spur Bellamy on as well. His fingers dig into her thighs, almost painfully, and he pulls her down for a rough kiss. A few more thrusts and he fumbles between them, finding her clit just as he comes himself and pulling her along over the edge behind him.
"OK, that was way better than sleep," he admits when they've both caught their breaths.
"See?" Clarke says, climbing off him to stretch out the right way in the bed instead. "I have the best plans ever."
He follows, sliding in behind her and pulling her against his chest. "You do."
They do end up dozing off a little, until a few minutes before eight when Bastet finally realizes she's shut out of the bedroom and starts up a loud serenade of howling outside the door.
"Breakfast?" Bellamy asks, trailing his fingers up and down Clarke's bare arm. She snuggles closer, closing her eyes for just another moment.
"What are you in the mood for?" she then asks, rolling onto her back and stretching.
She just catches his appreciative once over when she turns back to him.
"Let's see what we have in the fridge, OK?" So they get dressed again and venture into the kitchen, where he opens the fridge and starts pulling stuff out – eggs, bacon, half a cantaloupe, some strawberries and blueberries…
"I was going to cook," Clarke tells him. "You shouldn't have to… not today."
He puts a box of frozen waffles down on the counter and then cages her in, one hand on either side of her. "You know I love cooking with you," he says with a smile. "At least breakfast, you suck at everything else, so…"
She swats at his chest and he steps away with a chuckle.
So they cook breakfast together. It's strange, considering they've been traveling for the last six months and only had a month and a half of 'normal' life before that, but it feels like an ordinary morning. She doesn't exactly forget what day it is, what's going to happen at some point in the next sixteen hours, it's always at the edge of her mind, the way it has been for the last eight months.
But she can focus on the other stuff, on the way Bellamy laughs when she fails to catch a blueberry in her mouth, on the softness in his eyes when she catches him watching her, on his hand, big and warm, that never leaves her thigh under the counter while they eat, a comforting presence.
Memories she knows she'll treasure in years to come, even if it hurts to think about that right now.
When they've finished eating, they clean up together, Clarke rinsing off their plates and cutlery and glasses, Bellamy loading them into the dishwasher, then he washes the pans they used to cook and she dries them.
When everything's been put away and the kitchen is sparkling clean again, he wraps his arms around her from behind and buries his face in her hair for a moment. She's just about to suggest they move back to the bedroom, when he clears his throat.
"Couch and TV?" he suggests.
Part of her wants to object, but on the other hand, this is the type of thing she wants to remember too. So she turns in his arms and smiles up at him. "Sounds perfect."
They stretch out the way they usually end up after a long evening right from the start, Bellamy half-lying on the chaise and her half on top of him, and he opens Netflix and flips through the categories.
"Comedy," she says when he passes it. "If that's OK? I don't want…"
He squeezes her hand to let her know she doesn't need to explain and finds Parks and Rec. "We only got to the first episode of season seven," he notes. "Twelve episodes left, that's, like, four or five hours. What do you say?"
It's as good as anything else, so she agrees and he starts the first episode.
And it's… it is nice, just lounging around, a lazy Saturday together on the couch. Bastet apparently forgives them for their horrible neglect earlier after a while and forces herself between Bellamy and the arm of the couch, where she then purrs up a storm.
At the same time, it's like there's a live wire just under her skin, making her buzz with anxiety and glance at him every few minutes, just to make sure he's still there, that the zero on his forehead hasn't started fading yet. Which it hasn't and won't for a while, if Raven was telling the truth, and why would she lie about that?
"God, it's like trying to cuddle with a mannequin or something," he complains after an hour or so. "You need to relax."
Clarke lets out a humorless laugh, which apparently scares Bastet enough that she gives both of them an annoyed look and saunters off to lick herself in a patch of sunlight by the window. "Sorry, I don't think that's going to happen today."
He runs both hands up her arms to her shoulders and nudges her forward a little. "We'll see about that."
The massage is very nice, and she does go a little limp under his touch once he's gotten her to lie down on her stomach and really digs into the tense muscles in her lower back. "Mmm."
"Better?" he mumbles in her ear and she nods. "See, I told you."
"Yeah, yeah. You do know there are… other ways to get me to relax, right?"
Bellamy's hands freeze for a split second before he starts working a particularly sore spot in her left shoulder. "I know."
She considers saying something else, but his hands really are magic, so she just lets herself enjoy it for a moment.
Honestly, she's almost asleep when he wraps the massage up and she hears him move off the couch. "Where are you going?" Clarke asks, a little muddled.
"Not going anywhere," he assures her, squeezing her thigh and then teasing the hem of her shorts. "I thought you wanted to relax some more."
That gets her alert again and she bites her lip. "What did you have in mind?"
He's actually sitting on the floor in front of the couch where she's lying, and at her question, he smacks her butt lightly. "Clothes off, sit up."
She scrambles to pull her tank top over her head and push her shorts and panties down her legs before sitting down again. Bellamy immediately pulls her forward, so she's on the edge of the couch, before rising up enough to be able to kiss her.
She returns the kiss eagerly, heart already racing in her chest, and when he trails a hand down her stomach and into the curls between her legs, she knows he finds her already wet.
"You really liked that massage, huh?" he asks amusedly before kissing down her throat and chest and finally settling between her legs.
"It was OK," she replies, trying to keep her voice lofty and failing completely when he leans in to nose at her. "I was hoping it was just the warm-up, though."
He chuckles against her thigh, making her entire body break out in goose bumps. "You know me too well, Princess."
Clarke's about to respond but loses all train of thought when he finally licks into her, one hand finding her breast, and she has to focus on not crying out at the overwhelming sensation.
He works her slowly, the way she's learned that he likes, bringing her right to the edge and letting her settle down again, and not until she's literally begging for release does he relent and pushes her the last of the way over.
She collapses back against the couch, trying to catch her breath, but he's not satisfied yet and replaces his mouth with his fingers, thumb relentless against her clit, and her second orgasm is almost too much, just this side of actually painful.
She fumbles for his hand, trying to push it away but her muscles aren't working properly yet. "Too much."
"But you have to admit that you're relaxed," he points out, leaning up to kiss her again, and she chases the taste of herself on his tongue.
"If by 'relaxed' you mean reduced to a liquid state, then sure."
Bellamy laughs, pulling her closer, and she can feel the evidence of his own arousal against her stomach – he must have gotten rid of his own sweatpants and boxers at some point. She shifts a little, trying to get him where she wants him, and he pulls back to look down at her.
"This couch isn't actually a good height for this," he notes, and she can tell that he's right – for them to actually be able to have sex, she would have to be a foot or so higher up, or he'd have to sort of slouch down, neither of which would be very comfortable for more than a minute or two.
"Get up here," she tells him, tugging on his hand, and he sits down next to her. Her legs have started working enough that she can kneel up and straddle him. "Much better."
He hums in agreement, tangling one hand in her hair to pull her in for a kiss, the other going between them to get himself lined up, and she sinks down.
They both still for a second, the moment extended in time, and then she starts moving determinedly, riding him hard and fast, and before long, he groans against her neck, pulsing deep inside her.
"I was going to get you off one more time," he grumbles when he's caught his breath, and Clarke laughs.
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Give me five minutes."
Her stomach choses that moment to rumble, though, and for a while, they're distracted ordering lunch – Chinese food, at Bellamy's request – and it's not like they can open the door for the delivery guy naked, so they reluctantly get dressed again.
And that's basically how the afternoon goes. They eat their food watching another episode, and then relax back onto the couch when the boxes are empty. After a while, his hand slides down her side and into her shorts, and after he gets her off with his fingers, she blows him. A little later, she pulls him down on top of her and they make out like teenagers until they're both ready, and then he fucks her slow and deep, pulling her legs up over his shoulders for an even better angle, and she comes with a cry that scares the cat, who disappears for the next hour.
After that, they don't even bother getting dressed again, Clarke just pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and they cuddle under it, half-watching the TV and getting distracted by each other.
When the sun starts sinking towards the horizon, she looks up at him, focusing on his Number.
"Is it…" Bellamy starts, but trails off.
"No," she replies. "It's still strong."
"So we have time for pizza?"
She has to smile at that. "I think so, yeah."
So they order pizza and cannoli from Juliana's, another throw back to the early days, and put some clothes on again before eating as they watch the sun disappear behind the buildings across the river.
"Well, that's as good a last meal as any," Bellamy notes after the last bite of cannoli, and she feels her blood run cold, her breath going shallow.
"Be right back," she says, keeping her voice light. "Bathroom."
She must fool him, because he just squeezes her hand.
In the solitude of the bathroom, Clarke bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, watching as the wound heals as quickly as it appeared. She manages to get her breathing back under control and splashes some water on her face.
Then she realizes that she's wasting precious minutes she could be spending with Bellamy, and takes a final, deep breath.
When she gets back to the living room, he's just putting his phone down on the coffee table, and a moment later, a slow beat starts up from the sound system. He holds out a hand to her.
"Dance with me?"
Clarke just nods, joining him in the open space between the couch and dining table, stepping into the circle of his arms. They wrap around her waist and she sneaks hers up around his neck, leaning her head on his shoulder with a sigh.
Settle down with me
Cover me up
Cuddle me in
For a long moment, the only sound is the soft music and their breathing.
"Do you regret it?" Bellamy then asks, so quietly she almost doesn't hear him.
She immediately shakes her head, burying her face against his neck. "How could I regret loving you?"
She feels his lips against her temple briefly. "You might," he continues. "When… when it's all over."
And the thing is, she knows he's right. She knows that the underlying sadness that's been a constant in their relationship right from the start, and that's been slowly but surely growing in the last few weeks, is nothing to what she's going to feel tomorrow, or the day after, when he's gone and she's left behind.
But still… somehow, she thinks she's starting to see Raven's point.
It has been worth it. Even if they only got such a short time together, it has. She wouldn't trade the last few months for anything. Well, maybe for a lifetime with him, but it doesn't work like that.
"Never," she vows, hoping it'll ease the guilt she knows he's feeling, completely unjustified. It's not like he has any control over this, no more than she does. If he had a choice, he would never leave her. She knows that, feels it deep in her bones.
Silence settles over them as they barely move to the notes. The sun must have set completely by now, darkness falling over New York, and Clarke wants to yell at it, scream at it, take her anger out on it. Because she doesn't want this to end, doesn't want to wake up tomorrow in a world that doesn't have Bellamy Blake in it.
But that's what's going to happen, because she can't do anything to change it.
"Thank you."
The words whispered against her hair bring her back to the present, the cocoon of his arms around her.
"For what?"
"Just… the last few months," he clarifies.
She buries her nose against his neck. "It was a hell of a trip, huh?"
Bellamy's quiet for a moment.
"It really was," he then agrees. "But that's not… thank you for this time with you."
She takes a beat to take that in. "Oh."
"I was in a rut and I didn't even know it," he continues. "I had forgotten that life could be, should be, more than just work and studying and the occasional beer out with Miller. So thank you for reminding me. For showing me the world, places I never in a million years dreamed I would get to se. For helping me start living again before it was too late."
For a split second, she wonders what the last months of his life would have been like if she had turned him away when he showed up at the library back in November, if she had somehow managed to stick to her initial decision to stay away from him. Or if she had never met him at all, if she'd decided to go the other way that day back in October, if she'd caught the subway earlier.
He would have stayed in New York, kept working himself to exhaustion with his job and his classes. He wouldn't have had a chance to make things right with Octavia. And he would have died… how? Alone, at home? It's Saturday night, so maybe out at a club or a bar with Miller? Or maybe in bed with someone else, some girl he picked up for a bit of fun?
She doesn't want to linger on the last one too much, but the facts still stand – he would have died. No matter what Clarke did. And he still will, she knows that, but he's telling her that she's made the last little bit of his life better. And that's really all she can ask for.
"I'm glad I could," she mumbles against his skin.
The song ends and another one starts, the beat still slow, and they continue swaying slowly from side to side, bodies pressed as close together as possible.
I will love you till the world stops turning
and ever after when it comes
Fitting, she thinks absentmindedly as the lyrics register, and turns her head slightly, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Bellamy's neck. He lets out a deep breath and slides one hand up under her top, warm fingers splaying across her back.
Clarke pulls back, meeting his eyes for a moment before tugging him down, roughly, for a kiss. He returns it with just as much greed, his other hand coming up to slide into her hair, tilting her head just a little for a better angle.
They kiss like that, like it's the only thing in the world they need, like it's more important than breathing, for an infinite moment. The music around them changes, the world outside the windows darken a little more, and the lights across the river twinkle to life.
Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content
AN: Songs in the chapter are "Kiss Me", Ed Sheeran, and "Til the World Stops Turning", Kaleb Jones, both beautiful and (especially the second one) sad songs if, you know, the chapter wasn't enough on its own
