AN: OK, so, posting is going to look a little different this week – I'm planning Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, if you want a schedule! I want to give everyone some time to digest the chapters, but also not drag it out, if that makes sense!
Chapter title from "How Long Will I Love You". I imagine the version with Ellie Goulding from the movie "About Time" – great movie, check it out if you get a chance.
I don't own anything relating to The 100
Seriously, see the end of the chapter for warnings!
63
As Long as Stars Are Above You
When the last song on the playlist ends, Clarke pulls back enough so she can tug Bellamy's shirt over his head.
"You sure?" he asks as she wraps her arms around him again. "I don't want to, like, traumatize you by dropping dead right in the middle or something."
She tries to take it as the joke it's obviously meant to be, but the little laugh she lets out still sounds more like a sob.
"We should be OK," she says, reaching up to run her thumb over the zero on his forehead, still bright. "It hasn't started fading yet…"
He nods once at that and before she has a chance to react, he bends down and sweeps her into his arms.
This time, the laugh that escapes her actually sounds like a laugh, bright and surprised.
"Careful, you'll throw your back out," she warns him, getting a raised eyebrow in return.
"I'll worry about that in the morning."
She pushes the underlying meaning of the words away, because she wants this, wants to feel him above her and inside her, surrounding her, one last time. It doesn't matter that they've been having sex on and off the whole day. She needs this.
He carries her to the bedroom, where the sheets are still rumpled from this morning, and carefully lays her down on the bed. His eyes never leave hers as he slowly crawls onto the bed to her.
She reaches for him, wanting to pull him down on top of her, but he gently pushes her hands down, above her head, before giving her a soft but too brief kiss.
"Let me do this my way, OK?" he says quietly as he pulls away, and she nods.
He starts by kissing his way from her lips down her throat and left arm, all the way to her hand where he places one last kiss in the palm of her hand before moving to the other side and kissing her right palm too, moving up her arm and throat this time, ending with a slow, deep kiss that has her gasping for air when he finally pulls away.
Bellamy doesn't give her a chance to really catch her breath, though, as he peppers kisses along her collar bones and down her ribcage, over her top, until he gets to the narrow strip of skin visible above her shorts, where he lingers, nibbling at the skin on her stomach, dipping his tongue into her belly button.
Just as Clarke's about to make an impatient noise to get him to keep going, he hooks his thumbs in her top and starts pushing the material up, infuriatingly slowly, kissing and licking at the skin revealed. When he finally gets the garment over her breasts, she's panting underneath him and really can't help the drawn out whine that leaves her when he finally wraps his lips around her nipple and pulls it into his mouth.
"Oh, fuck," she breathes out when he lowers his body down on top of hers for a moment, his hips grinding against hers, his erection rubbing against her clit and making shockwaves shoot through her entire body.
But all too soon, he shifts away, pulling her top the rest of the way off and quickly moving down her body. She feels his mouth on the inside of her right ankle, his tongue darting out to taste her, before he starts moving up the inside of her leg, his hand mirroring the movement on the outside. When he reaches her inner thigh, just below where her shorts end, and sucks a bruise into the sensitive flesh, she can't help but arch off the bed towards him.
He squeezes her hip lightly before raising his eyes to hers. "Patience, Princess."
She nods breathlessly and watches as he moves to her left leg and presses a kiss to her ankle. As he slowly makes his way back up, she realizes what he's doing – he's trying to memorize her, map every inch of her body, almost like he's the one that needs to remember this for the rest of his life.
She swallows down the sob that rises up in her throat at the thought and focuses on the feel of his lips on her skin, his warm hand sliding up her leg. Surprisingly enough, it works, and by the time he noses at her sex through her shorts and panties, she's completely focused on him again.
Bellamy pushes himself up on one elbow and tugs the cord of the shorts loose, and she lifts her hips off the bed a little to help him slide them down. Instead of pulling down her panties too, though, he places a hand on her stomach, pushing her down on the bed again, and continues up her body until he's hovering above her.
Her eyes are immediately drawn to the Number on his forehead, and Clarke doesn't want to think about that, so she pulls him down to her, her mouth probably too insistent on his, but he doesn't complain, instead returning the kiss just as desperately for a moment before slowing it down.
She hums contentedly as Bellamy's hand covers her breast, warm and familiar, and he nips at her bottom lip before moving down, kissing every erogenous spot he's discovered over the last eight months until he gets to her breasts, where he replaces his hand with his mouth and sucks a nipple into his mouth.
Clarke lets out a whine, and a moment later, when his hand slides down her stomach and he cups her through her panties, she jerks her hips against him, needing more friction.
She feels his chuckle against her breast, his hot breath ghosting over her, and then his knuckles sliding over her clit.
He doesn't take her panties off, doesn't even push them aside, doesn't make any move to slide a finger inside her, but still, within minutes, his teeth grazing her nipple and his thumb rubbing persistent circles on her clit has her falling over the edge.
Bellamy moves up, kissing her through the waves of pleasure, drawing it out by easing up on the pressure for a moment before increasing it again. When he finally breaks the kiss and pulls his hand away, Clarke is so overwhelmed that she barely registers the fact that he tugs on her panties. He obviously manages to get them off without any assistance from her, because a moment later, she feels his finger sliding along her slit, no barrier between them this time, and he's back next to her, his lips finding hers for another deep kiss.
She lets out a moan against his lips as he slips the finger inside, her muscles still fluttering with the final ripples of her orgasm, and her hips rise off the bed of their own accord to meet him.
He starts out easy, just one finger pumping slowly into her, giving her time to come down completely. She wants to touch him in return, so she shifts slightly onto her side so she's almost facing him, which he doesn't object to. When she slides her hand down his stomach, though, he breaks the kiss and pulls his finger out of her, grabbing her wrist.
"Uh-uh, Princess, I'm not done yet," he tells her and she frowns at him.
"But I want to touch you too," Clarke complains before moaning as he plunges two fingers into her, picking up his previous pace.
"I know, baby, soon, OK?" The words are whispered into her ear and when he pulls her earlobe into his mouth, she can just hum her agreement.
Her right hand is resting on the bed between them, fingers curled around the sheet, and she wraps the fingers of her other hand around his forearm, nails digging into his skin, as he curls his fingers inside her, hitting that sweet spot just right.
"Fuck," she gasps when his thumb nail grazes her clit once, hips bucking uncontrollably against him.
"That's right, Princess, give me another one," he murmurs against her lips before kissing her, and a moment later, she does, convulsing around his fingers, head thrown back.
"Are you trying to break a record or something?" she asks breathlessly when her brain starts working properly again.
Bellamy's propped up on his elbow above her, watching her with a soft expression on his face. "Got to give you something to remember me by, right?"
The reality of the situation hits her like a truck at ninety miles per hour, and she immediately shakes her head. "No, no, that's not… you…"
"Hey, hey, hey," he interrupts her, wiping away the lone tear that's escaped down her cheek. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that, I didn't mean… shhh…"
Clarke blinks rapidly to hold the tears back. "I know, I know, it's OK."
He leans down, resting his forehead against hers, and she lets her eyes slide closed.
"I love you, Princess, so, so much… I just want to make you feel good, OK?"
He doesn't add 'one last time', but they both know it's implied. The elephant in the room.
They remain still in that position for a long moment, and when Bellamy finally moves away slightly, giving her a questioning look, she's pulled herself together enough to offer him a small smile.
He kisses her softly before moving down her body once more, settling on his stomach between her thighs, draping her legs over his shoulders and opening her up for him.
He pushes her to the edge and over twice more with his mouth and fingers before she finally gets him on his back and out of his sweatpants.
Clarke takes her time, like he did earlier, covering every inch of skin she can reach with kisses, nibbling here and there and letting her tongue come out and play now and then. By the time she wraps her hand around the base of his dick and takes him into her mouth, his breath is loud and ragged in the quiet room.
"Wait, wait, I want…" he starts, but trails off when she sucks hard.
She knows what he's trying to say, that he wants to make love to her, come inside her, and she wants that too, but she also wants this. So she sets a quick pace, using her hands as well as her mouth, and within a minute, his hips jerk off the bed and she swallows down every drop.
"Fuck, Princess," he sighs when she's crawled up the bed and stretched out next to him. "I wanted to…"
"I know," she cuts him off, throwing a leg over him and pulling herself closer. "So you better get a move on."
Bellamy just stares at her for a moment, then his mouth slowly quirks up in a smirk and in one swift move, he has her on her back and is looming above her.
"Are you going to time me or something?" he asks, tugging lightly on her hair to get her to tilt her head to the side and immediately latching on to the sensitive spot just below her ear.
Clarke actually lets out a laugh that quickly becomes a moan when he flicks her nipple with his thumb.
"Wasn't planning on it," she breathes out. "But if you want a challenge…"
He chuckles against her shoulder and grinds his hips against hers. He's softened again, definitely nowhere near ready for the activities they both have in mind, but she runs both hands down his back, letting her nails drag lightly over the skin, and then up again along his sides, making him shiver and, yeah, it shouldn't take too long.
Bellamy seems to take his own recovery period as an opportunity to get her off once more. He gets comfortable half on top of her, propped up on his elbow and with one hand buried in her hair, alternating between tugging on the strands and scraping his nails against her scalp, both of which he knows she likes. His other hand slides up her side to her breast, playing with her nipple, and his lips never stop moving – from her shoulders, her throat, her chest, briefly sucking a nipple into his mouth, to finally return to hers for a long, deep kiss before he repeats everything once more.
The next time he leans in for a kiss, his hand abandons her breast and trails lower, past where she wants it and down her inner thigh, then up the other before he finally slips one finger inside her. Clarke lets out a breath against his mouth and lifts her hips in time with his finger moving inside her. He soon adds another, curling them just right, and she reaches down to wrap her hand around his already hardening dick, desperate to get him inside her.
Bellamy moans into her mouth at the feeling, his hips jerking against her hand, and she sets a pace that matches that of his fingers. After a few minutes, though, he starts rubbing circles against her clit with his thumb and, well, she can't focus on anything else.
This orgasm creeps up on her, one moment it's just starting to build somewhere deep inside her, the next it crashes over her, pulling a cry from her lips and making her body arch off the bed.
He lets her ride it out, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as she gasps for breath. Once she starts coming down, though, he moves above her, and she feels the head of his dick pressing against her entrance. She opens her eyes, meeting his just inches above her, and angles her hips up to pull him inside her. He does the rest, moving forward and sinking into her to the hilt in one, slow motion.
Clarke's eyes close briefly as he fills her completely, but she wants to see him, so she opens them again and pulls him down for a kiss.
"So," she starts when he breaks it. "Did you have a number in mind? What's the goal here?"
He chuckles at her question before pulling out a little and pushing back inside. She pulls her leg up so she gets better purchase to meet his thrusts, and he lets out a moan at the slight change in angle.
"I don't know," he gets out after a moment. "Double digits?"
Well, he's halfway there.
"Can we maybe compromise on six?" she asks, using her inner muscles to squeeze him as he pulls out again.
"Fuck," he gasps, snapping his hips forward and thrusting into her a little harder than before. "Whatever you want, Princess."
She reaches up to press a kiss to his throat. "I just want to come with you."
He doesn't stop moving, but he pulls away from her a little to be able to look at her better. After a moment, he nods, leaning down to kiss her. "I think we can arrange that."
They settle into a slow rhythm that reminds Clarke of their mornings in bed back in the Seychelles or Bora Bora, lazy and unhurried, but with an underlying tension that isn't there normally. She pulls him down so he's more or less lying on top of her, their bodies sliding together effortlessly due to the light layer of sweat that covers them both. She doesn't know how long it stretches on, it feels like an eternity, but eventually, the way Bellamy's pelvic bone drags against her clit on each thrust makes the first tingling of another orgasm go through her.
"I'm getting close, babe," she breathes against his ear before letting her teeth graze his earlobe, and his hand clenches almost painfully around her breast.
"Wait for me," he murmurs before pulling her bottom lip between his teeth and picking up the pace a little.
But it's not like she can stop it, and it's coming on fast now, she can tell, so she tightens her muscles around him, which she knows almost always works. He releases her lips and leans his forehead against hers, drawing in a ragged breath.
"Fuck, I'm…" He trails off and manages to get a hand between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit and pressing down. "You there?"
She nods frantically as the first wave of her orgasm washes over her, and a split second later, he pushes into her one last time, hard, and stills. His lips slide over hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth, and they kiss lazily as their bodies clench and pulse. Bellamy comes down first but doesn't move as her climax stretches on, staying buried deep inside her.
When she finally opens her eyes and takes a long, shaky breath, he presses a kiss to her forehead before rolling them so he's on his back. Clarke shifts a little so she's in a more comfortable position and settles in half on top of him, one leg thrown over his, her arm stretching over his stomach and her head on his chest.
His hand slides up her back, then down and finally settles on her hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles against her skin.
"I love you," he mumbles into her hair and she turns her head to kiss his chest.
"I love you. I always will."
Bellamy just hums in reply, and silence fills the room.
After a couple of minutes, the cool air from the air conditioning makes Clarke shiver a little, and she fumbles behind her for a moment before finding the comforter and pulling it over both of them.
"Can you promise me something, Princess?" he asks as she settles down against him again.
"Anything."
"I need you to live, OK?"
She should have seen it coming, of course. Raven has already voiced something similar – "You know life was hell for a long time after Finn died, but you got me through that, so let me do the same for you, OK? You can't… just promise me you'll let me do this for you?". She had promised, of course. And it's not like it hasn't crossed her mind. She knows the next few days, weeks, months, maybe even years will be the worst in her long life, and maybe she will feel like she just can't go on without Bellamy, but she'll have Raven and Zeke, and Wells and Sasha, and her other friends… she will get through it. And that thought breaks her heart in a whole other way. But at least she can make him this promise.
"I will, promise."
She feels him let out a breath and then his lips against the top of her head.
"Thank you."
She doesn't answer, just moves her head a little so she can feel his heart beating against her cheek. Thump… thump… thump… His chest rises and falls slowly, and she times her own breathing to it. She wonders how many beats, how many breaths he has left. She's avoided looking at his Number since they came to bed, but she knows it must have started fading by now. The clock on the bedside table that she can see if she shifts her head just a little reads 11:09, so there's barely an hour left of the day.
It feels like a bubble has formed around them, enclosing them in this moment, and Clarke wishes she could pause it, make it last forever. She would be perfectly happy to just stay here, in this room, this bed even, if it meant she got to keep him with her.
The clock ticks on, 11:17, 11:25, 11:31. As midnight inches closer, the absurd thought that maybe someone's taken pity on them flashes through her mind. She doesn't know who's behind her assignments, who decides who lives and dies and when and how, and she hasn't really questioned it for a long time… but maybe they think she deserves more than this, that Bellamy deserves more. Just maybe…
She vaguely registers that his thumb has stopped moving against her hip and then, a split second later, that the thumping against her cheek is gone.
That's when the memories wash over her.
Mommy is screaming and she doesn't know why. Mrs. Allen said something about the baby, but why would the baby want to hurt Mommy?
"Bellamy, sweetheart, why don't you go into the kitchen?"
It's Mrs. Allen, she's sitting on the bed between Mommy's legs.
She shakes her head. "No, I want to stay with Mommy."
"It's OK, Maura, let him stay."
Mommy screams again.
She claps her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut, but she can still hear it.
Then there's another sound, and she opens her eyes again.
"Come meet your baby sister, Bellamy."
"What's today, Bell?"
Octavia's jumping on her bed. She's not supposed to do that, but Mom's not home so it doesn't matter.
"You know what day it is, O."
"No I don't, you have to tell me."
She sighs. "It's your birthday."
"Yay!"
The envelope is thick. Thick envelopes are good. But she still can't bring herself to open it.
"Come on, man, you know you got in."
Miller's encouraging words are not helping. But it's not like it'll go away so she sticks her finger under the flap and opens it.
"Dear Bellamy, on account of the admissions committee, it is my honor and privilege to share with you that you have been admitted to the College of Arts and Science at New York University…"
"See!"
It's quiet when she closes the door behind her.
"Mom?"
No answer. But Mom should be home, she said she didn't have to work tonight…
She kicks off her shoes and continues into the living room. Empty. Maybe Mom got called in unexpected…
She turns on the TV but doesn't sit down. She's hungry, so she goes into the kitchen to grab something to eat.
The sight makes her stop in the doorway.
"Mom?"
Why is she on the floor?
"Mom!"
She slumps down next to her, doesn't know what to do. Check for a pulse, that's it.
Nothing.
Check breathing.
Nothing.
How do you do CPR again? She tries to remember, touching Mom's cheek.
She's cold.
The church is almost empty. She thinks it's funny, since Mom had so many jobs. She should have more friends than this…
The priest says something about heaven, but she tunes him out, staring at the photo on top of the coffin. Octavia sniffles next to her and she wraps an arm around her shoulders.
"I'm eighteen, I can make my own decisions!"
She curls her hands into fists to avoid hitting something. Like a wall. Not Octavia, never Octavia.
"All I'm saying is that you need an education, O."
"Why? You don't have a college degree, why do I need one?"
"I didn't have a choice!"
"Don't blame me for that, I didn't ask you to drop out of school."
"And where would you be if I hadn't, huh? What do you think Mom would have said if I had let you get sucked into the system?"
Octavia doesn't answer the question, just gives her an angry look.
"This is my choice, you're not my dad or even my legal guardian anymore, so you can't tell me what to do."
"I'm just trying to do what's best for you!"
"Maybe let me decide that!"
"Do you think this is what Mom would have wanted? For you to throw your life away to go on some sort of adventure?"
She's never seen her sister so angry before.
"Go to hell!"
The front door slams when she leaves.
Someone bumps into her, but it's not like that's anything out of the ordinary on the streets of New York.
Something moves in front of her, someone falling forward, into the street. She doesn't even think, just takes a step forward and grabs the woman by the arm, yanking her back onto the sidewalk and out of the cab's path.
"Are you OK?" The woman turns and looks up at her, and it's like looking right at the sun. So that's what people mean when they talk about love at first sight… She just stares up at her, eyes wide. "Miss?"
"I'm fine, thank you so much."
Her voice is deeper than she thought it would be but somehow suits her.
"Are you sure?"
"Just a little shaken up."
The woman smiles, and it does funny things to her, somehow making her stomach swoop and her heart beat harder and her chest ache at the same time.
"Good."
"Will you show me?"
She glances over at Clarke and they're so close, it would be so easy to lean in and kiss her. She wants to, maybe more than she's ever wanted anything in her entire life. But she doesn't.
"I can try…" She points to the sky and feels Clarke move closer. "That's the moon." An elbow in her side. "Seriously, though, hang on…"
There's too much light around them to see the stars properly, so she downloads a star app on her phone and opens it.
"You seriously downloaded a star map?"
"You wanted me to tell you about the stars. We can't see them here, this is the next best thing. Now, are you paying attention?"
She holds the phone up above them. "So, that's Ursa Major, the Big Dipper…"
"It's almost time for lunch, do you want to get something to eat?"
She's going to say no, she's going to say no. You cornered her at work, there's no way she'd willingly go out with you. She probably thinks you're a stalker or something. She might have already called the cops, you should just leave. Give up.
"I'd like that."
The bedroom is mostly dark, the only light coming through the windows. Clarke's breathing has been deep and even for a long time, but she can't sleep.
She's never really thought about dying. She's thirty, for God's sake, she shouldn't have to think about it, not for a long time. But fate or the universe or whatever doesn't seem to care about that.
Two hundred and seven days. That's all she has left to live. It's almost impossible to take in… she wonders if it would be easier if she'd gotten the news in a doctor's office, some scientific explanation behind it. Instead of… this.
Is Clarke even telling the truth? But why would she lie? If she does take her up on the whole round the world trip thing, the only one losing anything over that would be Clarke, so it just doesn't make sense.
Clarke shifts a little in her sleep, then lets out a deep breath and she runs a hand up her back, the soft, smooth skin under her fingertips soothing somehow.
Clarke stays asleep when she carefully gets out of bed and she closes the door quietly behind her.
Octavia's already in the kitchen, eyes intent on the coffee maker where the brown liquid is dripping into the pot below. She looks up when she hears her steps.
"Morning, big brother," she greets with a smile that's way too perky for this early in the morning. "Feeling OK today?"
She huffs and sits down at the table. "I should be asking you that, you had a lot more to drink than I did."
Her sister shrugs as she opens a cupboard to grab mugs. "Not that much."
She accepts the mug of coffee gratefully and takes a long sip.
"Mmm, good."
"I have gotten better at making coffee, yeah."
Octavia's words bring to mind a day long ago, their mom's birthday, when they tried to make her breakfast in bed. O was in charge of the coffee, but somehow – she's still not sure how – the liquid was thick as tar.
"You sure have."
"There's pancakes and bacon and stuff in the oven, Lincoln made it earlier, but maybe we should wait for Clarke to get up."
"Good idea."
They drink in silence for a moment before Octavia jumps back up. "I have something for you."
Before she can say anything, her sister disappears into the hallway and she hears a drawer opening and closing. She finishes her own coffee and then grabs both mugs to rinse off in the sink.
"I honestly don't even know why I took it," O says when she returns to the kitchen, putting down a small velvet box on the kitchen counter. "No, that's not true. I was mad at you and I knew that Mom always meant for you to have it, since it was your dad's originally."
She stares at the box for a long moment. She knows what's inside, but somehow, she can't quite believe it.
"I thought I lost it when I moved," she says eventually, picking the box up and turning it over in her hands.
Octavia grimaces. "Sorry."
"Why are you giving me this now?"
"Partly because this is the first time I've seen you since I took it." O waggles her eyebrows a little. "And partly because I think you're going to need it soon."
She finally snaps the box open and there it is. The ring her dad gave her mom over thirty years ago. It doesn't have a diamond, like most engagement rings, but a blue stone that she can't remember the name of but that her mom always told her was from somewhere near her dad's hometown in the Philippines. It had been in the family for generations.
She can't help but note that the color matches Clarke's eyes perfectly.
"You may be right about that."
Octavia squeals, reminding her of her teenage years. "You're not even denying it? Man, Bell, you have it bad…"
She doesn't even respond to that, just rolls her eyes.
"Morning."
Clarke's voice makes her snap the lid closed on the box and quickly and, hopefully, discreetly stuff it into her pocket.
"Morning. Did you sleep OK?" Octavia asks.
She feels Clarke's eyes on her back. She has to make up some excuse to be able to put the ring in her bag instead of pocket. She turns and puts on a smile, hoping it looks natural. "Morning, Princess."
She can tell that Clarke knows something's up.
"Morning. And I slept fine, thank you."
"Not too hung over? Lincoln made his famous hangover breakfast before he left, we were just waiting for you to get up."
"A bit of a headache but nothing too bad. But food sounds good."
"I'll be right back," she says. "Bathroom."
"Is that the Arc de Triomphe?"
"Yup," Clarke says, leaning against the railing. "And I think that might be our hotel."
She steps in close behind her, inhaling her familiar scent.
"Yeah?"
Paris is stretched out beneath them, and when Clarke half-turns to look up at her, she realizes that this is it. The moment.
The ring has been burning a hole in the inside pocket of her jacket all morning, and she should get it out to do this properly, but she doesn't particularly want to pull away from Clarke. She can get it after she does the actual proposal. Instead, she leans in for a quick kiss, gathering courage. "Love you, Princess."
"I love you."
Before she can say anything else, there's a cry coming from somewhere on their right, and when she turns to see what's going on, a man is down on one knee, holding up an open ring box to his girlfriend, who's crying but nodding her yes.
And, really, you can't propose right after someone else does. It's a little disappointing, but there will be other opportunities on this trip. They'll get their moment. One that's just theirs.
Despite Clarke's very vigorous attempt at distracting her, she still can't really sleep, just dozes off now and then, immediately jerking awake at any sound. By the time she manages to properly fall asleep, it's already getting light out, and when Clarke's alarm goes off, it feels like she's only gotten a couple of hours of sleep, at most.
She does fall right back to sleep once they're in Anya's car, so that's another hour, but by the time they've dropped off their bags at their new hotel and driven over to the address Anya found, her head is spinning from both tiredness and nerves.
Clarke stays by her side, a huge relief and comfort, and possibly the only reason she doesn't fall to her knees right there in the street when the woman – her grandmother – stares at her, eyes wide and hungry, as if trying to take in every single feature at once.
Anya does the introductions, or at least she assumes that's what's happening, she's not really paying attention, and then they're in the yard, a couple of young children giving her long looks until they're sent away.
She keeps a firm grip on Clarke's hand as she and her grandmother study each other, trying to find words, any words, something to say, and coming up empty.
Then her grandmother raises her hands, placing her palms against her cheeks – her skin is warm and soft, a little dry – and there are tears in her eyes.
"My Bellamy."
That's the moment when all the fears disappear, because it's the sound of hope, of joy, of finally having the person the name belongs to in front of you after waiting for much too long.
This woman, she realizes, loves her, even never having met her.
It's an overwhelming feeling.
She's antsy before they even reach Las Vegas. She tries to keep busy by looking out for the 'Welcome to Las Vegas' sign, but when she mentions it, Clarke tells her it's actually in the city itself, which doesn't make sense.
The hotel is fantastic, of course, and their room as well, and she tries to seem appropriately amazed by everything, but her mind is still stuck on the velvet box that's still in a pair of socks in her suitcase, waiting to be used.
Ideally, she'd want to… not get it over with, because she's looking forward to the actual proposal, to Clarke's reaction to seeing their friends, but the wait is seriously killing her. But right after they get to their room, O texts that she and Lincoln are going to catch a couple of hours of sleep to try to counteract the jetlag, and she texts back, suggesting that they meet at the Paris after sunset, since the lit up Strip and lightshow on the Eiffel tower replica will be a good backdrop. After sending basically the same text to Raven, they decide to meet there at around eight thirty, so she suggests relaxing in their room for a while, and then they explore the hotel – which is seriously huge – a little and grab some food, before she finally brings up going outside to check out the Strip.
The sun has set by now, but the temperature has barely dropped, still way too warm for her taste. They check out the fountain show again before she starts carefully and, hopefully, somewhat discreetly ushering Clarke in the direction of the lit tower.
She stops when she spots Raven and her sister, digging the ring box out of her pocket, and when Clarke stops two steps later, she drops down on one knee and opens the box.
"Raven?"
"Surprise!"
She can practically hear the wheels turning in Clarke's head. "What are you guys doing here? Bellamy, what's…"
She turns as she speaks and when she spots her, she cuts herself off, eyes widening and mouth falling open.
She's vaguely aware of her sister and their friends behind Clarke, and the sound of the other tourists around them, but she's completely focused on Clarke, trying to read her expression without much success.
She clears her throat. "So I kind of missed the opportunity at the real deal," she starts, voice shaking slightly. "But I figured this would work just as well. So, what do you say, Princess? Marry me?"
Static fills her ears for a moment as Clarke just stares at her, but then she smiles. "Of course!"
The place Raven picked out is pretty much perfect – not too over-the-top, which she was a little worried about, just a nice room which has been decorated with simple flowers in white and light shades of pink, a couple of rows of white, wooden folding chairs and some more flowers at the front of the room.
Miller helps her go through the ceremony with the officiator, deciding which parts of it to use, and then they're shown to a room to change, and can't do anything but wait.
She almost has a heart attack when the door opens and Octavia appears.
"What's wrong, did Clarke change her mind?" she asks immediately.
"Nah, she was just worried about you," O assures her, though she doesn't meet her eyes so there has to be something going on.
"You can tell me if something's wrong, O," she insists, and Octavia sighs.
"Nothing is wrong, stop worrying. But I'm obviously just making you nervous so I might as well go back. I promise I won't let her make a run for it – kidding! I'm just kidding, relax."
She's saved from having to point out that it's not funny by Miller, who gives Octavia an unimpressed look. She raises her hands in mock surrender and backs out of the room.
"What if she has changed her mind?" she asks a moment later.
"Maybe she has," Miller replies with a careless shrug. "But come on – she's not going to bolt and dump you. If she's changed her mind, it's about getting married here, today, not about marrying you. I'm obviously not an expert, but don't girls usually want the whole nine yards? Big wedding with all their family and friends, huge reception, stuff like that…"
She lets out a breath. "Maybe. I think she would have told me, though."
"See?" Miller claps her on the shoulder. "You know her better than I do. Now come on and let's get you married."
Everyone but Raven and Octavia are already seated in the front row when she and Miller join the officiator at the front of the room, and a couple of minutes later, they slip in through the double doors and join the others, Octavia giving her a discreet thumbs up.
And then the music starts, and the doors open, and all there is is Clarke.
The ceremony is mostly a blur, but they both contribute when they need to, and then they're kissing and their friends are cheering and they're officially married.
When the memories fade away and Clarke returns to the present, tears are streaming down her cheeks, onto Bellamy's chest. The chest that's no longer rising and falling as he breathes, that's silent, no more heartbeats.
She knows she has to call 911, even though there's nothing they can do, knows she can't just stay here with him… but for a while, just for a little while, she does, curled up on her side, clutching him to her as sobs wreck her body.
Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content and MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, please be aware…
AN: I'm sorry. I know we all knew this was coming, but it was absolute torture to write… I hope you won't give up on me, though, there are still a few chapters to go
