a/n This is a long chapter. Also a bit intense at points. Also... Some Significant Developments. Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing it. Happy reading!

Content note: depression, discussion of suicidal ideation.

Bellamy starts to feel better about himself, as the days pass by. It's a slow process, but he's definitely getting there. His sessions with Jackson still tend to be awkward and somewhat painful, but at least now he really does feel like it's the good, cathartic kind of pain. Like the sharp, reassuring sting of cleaning a ragged wound.

He's starting to feel a little physically fitter, too. That's something he's been working on since the night he was so conscious of feeling weak when he carried Clarke to bed. He's been going on ever longer walks around the village, and he thinks he might try jogging, soon. And when Clarke is out of the house he sometimes does an awkward little workout in one of the spare rooms. He thinks that, if he gets really brave, he might even attempt to keep fit with a friend, one of these days. Perhaps he could ask Echo to train with him as a sort of peace gesture. Maybe Miller would like to try one of the workouts they used to do together as guards.

He's feeling a bit better in himself, but he has to admit that the bloodless coup is still not going to plan – or rather, they simply do not have a plan. Nothing beyond playing the long game, waiting and watching and learning what they can. And today, in just a few minutes' time, Bellamy is due to meet Levitt to discuss their options with him.

"Going on another one of your walks?" Clarke's voice echoing down the hallway stops him on the point of heading out the door.

"Not quite. Going to meet Levitt." He says.

She nods. "Good luck. Let me know if he says anything useful."

"Will do. I'm not sure how helpful I'm expecting this first conversation to be. I figure I just need to test the waters."

"Yeah. Of course. Whatever you think – I trust your judgement." She says pointedly, a coded reminder to him to trust himself, too. He can tell that, because their communication is pretty strong at the moment, he likes to think.

"Thanks, Clarke." He offers, heartfelt. He's still struggling under the weight of his gratitude to her, honestly. The more the clouds of Etherea clear, the more he feels awful for everything he has put her through, everything she has done to take care of him. Jackson keeps telling him it's perfectly normal that he felt like he couldn't think straight - apparently that's a common symptom of depression. But he still hasn't forgiven himself for it all the same.

She smiles slightly, chasing away his slight moment of melancholy. "Any time. I won't keep you. I didn't realise you were heading to see Levitt – I was just here to invite myself on your walk." She laughs, a little stiffly.

He does her the favour of laughing along with her. He never realised she might be interested in coming on these very small expeditions with him. He certainly never noticed that she was hurt not to be invited – but he knows her well enough to read in her tone that this is the implication of her awkward comment just now.

"Maybe we can take a walk when I get back." He offers brightly.

"Yeah, sure. If you want. I don't want to intrude." She says, audibly nervous.

He wants to laugh at that. Has she not realised he's half way in love with her again – or perhaps fully in love with her, just not ready to accept it quite yet?

"You wouldn't be intruding. I'd like some company." He swallows. "I'd like your company." He corrects himself, as firm as he is able.

She grins, nodding briskly. "Great. Good luck with Levitt, then."

He takes his leave of her and heads out the door.

He wonders what to do about the walk, as he makes the short journey to the stone to meet Levitt. Is Clarke expecting a walk with him to be an exciting event? She will surely be disappointed, in that case. He normally just does laps of the village until he's feeling tired. The point of the walking, after all, is to get fitter and stronger after all that time in the cave and the bout of bronchitis which followed. But if Clarke is planning to join him, he finds himself thinking he ought to make more effort.

Some pathetic, foolish part of him wants their little excursion to be something like a date.

He puts that out of mind when he arrives at the stone and finds Levitt already waiting for him.

"Thanks for meeting me. You're early." Bellamy says mildly.

"I guess you could say this meeting is important to me." Levitt offers carefully.

Bellamy nods. "No one came with you?"

"No one. I was careful."

"Good. Then let's begin. Can I -"

"How's Octavia?" Levitt interrupts, all at once. It's as if the words are spilling straight from his chest, Bellamy thinks. It's almost frightening, how desperately eager he sounds.

"She's well."

"And are you two speaking again? I know she was devastated. Is she still – is she living alone? How's Hope? How are -"

"She's well." Bellamy repeats, quelling. "I'll give you the best report I can. But you know I can't take you to see her – that would look way too suspicious, if anyone reports it back to your Shepherd."

"My Shepherd?" Levitt asks mildly. "Not our Shepherd?"

"You must have some idea why I asked you here." Bellamy says calmly. That wasn't so much an accidental slip as a deliberate testing of the waters.

Levitt nods, solid if a little stiff. "I think I do. And – and when the time comes, I'll be with you. I swear it. But please will you tell me how things are with Octavia?"

Bellamy relents. He knows a desperate man when he sees one. He's been there himself – following his sister onto the dropship or walking through an Azgeda army for Clarke.

He sets about describing in minute detail every aspect of his sister's recent life. There will be time enough for plots and plans later, he figures. But for now, he has found the only other Disciple in the universe who truly loves. And that's something he wants to encourage, frankly.

…...

Clarke tries not to get too overexcited about the walk. She doesn't change into more attractive clothes, or anything foolish like that. It's only a walk. But all the same she cannot stop thinking of the way Bellamy said he would like her company, repeating that phrase over and over and over in her mind.

She's being daft. He's her best friend, and he's remembering how to care about people. Of course he would like her company. There is no reason for her to feel so fluttery about this. They spend a huge amount of time together, anyway. This is nothing new.

Except it feels new. It feels new to spend time together by choice, rather than because they are obliged to live together.

By the time Bellamy returns home, she has paced the hallways of their home so much she suspects she does not actually need any more exercise today.

"How was Levitt?" She asks. "You were gone longer than I expected."

"I was gone longer than I expected." Bellamy says, laughing slightly. "He agreed to help us out right away. But then he wanted a thorough update on how my sister is getting on."

"He still cares about her?" She asks, suddenly touched.

"He's still in love with her." He corrects her, shaking his head. "O's always been like that – you remember how she was with Lincoln? I swear she could have anyone in love with her within an hour if she put her mind to it."

Clarke bites her lip. Privately, she knows which of the siblings she finds easiest to love. But she senses that mentioning that right now would be the opposite of useful.

"So he'll help us as best he can." Bellamy continues, either ignoring her silence or taking it as a cue to keep talking. "He agreed with what we'd already figured out – that the tough part will be breaking their loyalty to Bardo and showing them that humanity is better than transcendence. He says he'll see what he can do to make a start on it, try whispering to a few people and see whether anyone else might be with us."

"That's better than nothing." She says bracingly.

"Yeah. You're right." He sighs. "Listen, about taking this walk. I'd really like to hang out with you but I should go see my sister. I want to be able to tell her all about Levitt asking after her and see if I can carry some messages between them."

"We can go together." She suggests at once.

He blinks at her, eyes slightly narrowed. "You want to?"

"Yeah. Why not? I can say hi to Octavia too, and we can have our walk when we're done there. We can take the long way home or something."

"The long way home? Have you seen the size of Sanctum?" He asks, teasing.

She laughs. "We can take a walk after we're done." She reiterates, swatting him cheerfully on the arm.

"That sounds perfect." He agrees, grinning broadly.

They set out from the palace. It is not a long way to Octavia's quarters, but they manage to fit in a substantial conversation en route all the same. They chatter away about everything from the puddles underfoot to the clear blue sky overhead, with some plans for what to make for supper along the way. It's so comfortably domestic, but Clarke can still remember how awful things were between them, just a couple of months ago. She can still feel the heaviness of that experience weighing down her soul. Apparently it takes a little while to get over such things.

They arrive at Octavia's. It is Bellamy who knocks at the door, while Clarke stands close and silent and supportive by his side.

And then, to their surprise, it is Echo who opens the door.

"Hello." She greets them, apparently calm.

"Hey. Is – is my sister in?" Bellamy trips over his words just a little.

"Yeah. Hope's here too. Come on in."

Clarke is thoughtful, as they cross the threshold. She's not at all sure how well Bellamy will handle this. Three people is two more people than they were expecting, here, and he still tends to be rather uncomfortable in social situations. Not to mention one of those people is Echo, and as far as she's aware they have not spoken in person yet since Bellamy recovered from Bardo.

Who is she kidding? He would have told her, if he'd managed to take that step. He has been sharing everything about his recovery with her. So no, Bellamy and Echo have not spoken. She is sure of it.

"Bell! I wasn't expecting you. And Clarke! Come and sit down." Octavia welcomes them, genuinely delighted to see them.

This, Clarke thinks, is a promising start.

"We don't want to interrupt. I just have some news from Levitt." Bellamy says, a little stiff, but sitting down on the couch all the same.

He's also patting the space next to him and looking up at Clarke. She sits close to his side. Part of her is a little worried about how that might look to Echo, but she supposes that, in the grand scheme of things, they have probably all got better things to worry about than that. If Bellamy wants her close so he is comfortable, she is not about to deny him.

"Levitt?" Octavia prompts, evidently very interested.

"Yes."

Silence falls. Clarke looks to Bellamy, sees him glancing between Octavia and Hope with a question in his eyes.

"I already know." Hope pipes up. "At least – I think I do. No one's told me anything – please don't be angry with them. But did you really expect I wouldn't figure it out?"

Bellamy swallows loudly. "Sorry. It's not... personal. But we were trying to -"

"I get it. Top secret." Hope interrupts briskly. She seems to be a brave woman, Clarke thinks, from what little she knows of her. "And I get that you have a lot to deal with at the moment. But when the woman who raised me and the woman who loves me are keeping a secret, I'm going to notice."

Bellamy nods stiffly. Clarke wonders which part of this is bothering him, exactly – the danger of having someone else in on the secret? The idea that Octavia has a new family now? Or the news that Echo has moved on, as Clarke was beginning to suspect she might?

"It's OK, Bell." Octavia offers, surprisingly soft. "We're family – all of us. Your secret's safe."

"And I really didn't say anything." Echo adds firmly.

Bellamy lets out a tight laugh at that. "I know. Don't worry. I figured out that much."

Silence falls again. Clarke leans into Bellamy's side, just a little. Just enough to remind him that she's there for him, come what may. To remind him he could hold onto her, even, if he finds that he needs to.

"So I guess I should jump straight to telling you Levitt's supporting our peaceful resolution." Bellamy gets the words out.

"I knew he would." Octavia grins. "How's he doing?"

"He's physically well. But he's missing you. He said to tell you that."

"Tell him the same thing for me when you next see him?"

"Yeah. Of course I will."

The conversation flows from there, more or less. Sometimes it flows smoother than other times, Clarke notes – just as a river will sometimes get caught up on rocks along the way. But they do, essentially, manage to talk.

She stays fairly quiet, for the most part. Octavia and Bellamy speak more than the others. Echo joins in a good deal, Hope less often. For once in her life, though, Clarke finds that she is not obliged to take the lead. Her role today is to sit tight and support Bellamy as best as she can.

She likes to think she's been doing quite well at that, these last few weeks. In fact, she believes, they are both becoming rather skilled at supporting each other once again.

…...

Clarke hates feeling out of her depth – but set against that, life has forced her to grow used to surprises. She thinks she's getting better at coping with the unexpected once again, now that she is feeling rather calmer and more in control. She's starting to believe that she could make a fair attempt at tackling almost any challenge placed in front of her.

But then she comes home to find Bellamy crying in the kitchen, and she feels out of her depth all over again.

He's not just crying. He's sobbing, loud and messy, curled up in a heap on the kitchen floor. He's literally hugging his knees as he weeps to himself.

She cannot make sense of it. He has been doing better, recently, as far as she could tell. He has been saying he's doing better, and she thinks they're doing quite well at honesty. So she certainly did not expect to come back from running errands in the village to find him falling apart at the seams.

She steps into action, darts towards him instinctively. But then she thinks twice. Will he want that? If he's having some serious crisis of mental health, will a sudden hug or her unexpected presence do more damage than good?

But on the other hand, he does tend to really like a hug when he's struggling.

She clears her throat, speaks softly. "Bellamy. Hey. It's me. You're going to be OK. Whatever's happened, we can fix it."

He simply keeps sobbing.

"I'd love to come and give you a hug if that's OK?"

He nods, still curled in on himself.

She crosses the rest of the distance between them, fast, but not so fast as to startle him, she hopes. She's not sure how this hug is going to work, when he's all hunched over like this. He's hardly in any state to reach out towards her.

She makes the best of it. She kneels behind him, wraps her arms around him as well as she can.

"You're going to be OK." She murmurs, hopes her voice is soothing. "I'm right here. I've got you. We can figure this out, Bellamy."

He nods again. That's a good sign, she thinks. He's alert and aware and communicating with her, even if he's evidently distraught.

He shifts a little, presses further back against her into the hug. He's not curled on the floor now so much as sitting with his back against her front – still stooped and sobbing, but less hopeless in his body language. She can hug him better from this angle, too, sitting on the cold tiles and wrapping her arms snug around his waist.

"You're fine. Take all the time you need. I'm staying here with you as long as it takes." She promises him softly.

It takes a long time, it turns out. She honestly doesn't know how he is managing to make so many tears. It's frightening, and she doesn't mind admitting it. She is scared to find herself in the midst of this situation when she thought he was recovering, and she is desperate to know what she can do to help.

She's frightened, yet not quite anxious. That's something, at least. She genuinely believes in the strength of her friendship with Bellamy and their ability to fix this together. And she has him safe and physically well in her arms, so she is determined they can figure out the rest.

She doesn't know how long this will take. She's relieved at least that she does not need to save the world right this minute, and that Madi has opted to spend some time visiting Gaia after school. Clarke can focus her attention wholeheartedly on Bellamy for as long as he needs her.

She keeps holding him, and talking to him, because she doesn't know what else she can do. She feels powerless, in this moment, yet oddly proud. It's good that they're facing this together, she decides.

She thinks maybe she ought to tell him that.

"I've got you." She reminds him, leaning forward to rest her head on the back of his shoulder. "We're going to get you through this, OK? I'm so proud of us for how far we've come, Bellamy. We're going to be able to figure this out together. We take care of each other, you and me."

He snorts damply.

"I mean it. We'll get there."

"You take care of me." He says, short, between sobs. "I – I don't -"

"You do." She assures him, because she knows what he is not quite managing to say. "You take care of me all the time, Bellamy. But it's so natural to you I think you don't even notice half the time. You remind me to take some drawing time when you can see I'm having a bad day. You take my hand when I'm having a nightmare. And you have always had this way of making me feel like I have value, like I'm a worthwhile human being, even when I just can't see it myself. So don't you dare tell me you don't take care of me." She concludes, fierce.

She hopes she sounds more like she's speaking with conviction than like she's annoyed with him, she thinks suddenly. Oh god. What if she's just made it worse? What if -

She hasn't made it worse. Bellamy is leaning right back into her arms, clasping her hand, breathing a little calmer.

"Take all the time you need." She reminds him softly. "We can sit here as long as it takes. And then we can talk about it if you want to. Or we can not talk about it. We can just have a hug or take a nap or draw together."

He nods. He's sobbing rather more softly, now, more hiccupping than heaving breaths.

"I'm sorry." He says at length. "You didn't ask for this."

She hesitates, wonders which words to use. "You're wrong. I know we didn't choose this marriage. But you have to know I would always ask to be here when you need someone. So I'm asking you now to tell me as much as you're comfortable with. Or to let me know if there's some other way I can help."

He's silent a moment. She keeps resting her head against his back, turns a little so her cheek is pressed into his shoulder blade through his shirt.

"You sure about that? It's a long story." Bellamy mutters.

"I'm sure."

"And it's a really stupid story."

"Bellamy. I meant it. I'm not going anywhere. I want to share this with you."

He gaps out another sob, gives way to a self-conscious laugh. "Thanks. Thanks, Clarke. I – yeah. Thank you."

"Any time. We save each other – that's what we do."

He hums, unconvinced. To be fair, she's not so happy with her words either.

She takes a deep breath, tries again. "I mean – I want to take care of you. I didn't mean to make it sound like some obligation."

Another mixed reaction. Another shaky breath, but now he's clutching at her hand more firmly than ever.

"Thanks. I think – that's exactly what I needed to hear." He takes one more shuddering breath.

She stretches up to reach a towel that hangs over the door of one of the kitchen cupboards, hands it to him to wipe his face. It's a messy business, this tangle of grief and guilt.

And then she settles right back down to hold him and wait as long as he needs her to.

"You want to hear the stupid story now?" He asks quietly.

"Sure."

He sighs. "I just didn't feel great this morning and... things got very out of hand."

She hums, encouraging, and squeezes him a little tighter. She can agree that things do seem to have got very out of hand.

"I just hated that I was having a low day. I thought I was doing better so it was kind of scary to wake up feeling off. And then I started feeling like I was letting you and Jackson down when you've both been putting so much energy into helping me."

"But that's because we want to." Clarke murmurs. "Jackson is a doctor. He feels called to help people. And I – I care about you." She leaves it at that, reluctant to say anything that might make him feel any kind of pressure or obligation.

"Yeah. I'm kind of seeing that now you've spent your afternoon watching me lose it." He tries to joke, somewhat damply.

She just keeps hugging him and waits for him to feel ready to continue.

"So then I had a session with Jackson. I told him I was frustrated about... having a backwards step. And then that led us to a whole bunch of other stuff about guilt and regrets and – and here we are, pretty much."

"I get that. Healing can be tough. It's not going to work in a neat straight line." She tells him softly.

He's silent. She waits. She suspects that means there is more to the story.

At length, he heaves in a shaky breath and continues. "I saw your sketch. The one on the living room table of – of the lab on the day of the death wave. The heart and the head." He makes a choked sort of noise, half sob, half swallow. "That was the last straw I guess. I just – I looked at that picture and I was jealous. That Bellamy and that Clarke had flames bearing down on them and were about to be separated for six years. But in your picture we look almost happy. And I guess I can't imagine us ever getting back to that. Things seemed so simple there, before I betrayed you all these times."

"Twice, Bellamy. Twice. It's not as if you've made a habit of it." She tells him, firm.

He snorts. "I left you, too. Just a few minutes after that moment in the sketch I left you. And it feels like everything has been going wrong since then. So that's when – when I lost it. Started thinking it would have been better if I'd just died on Etherea when I was supposed to. I tried to come in here to start on supper or do something useful to take my mind off it but I guess I didn't make it that far."

Clarke tries desperately to remember how to breathe. She's been doing so well at staying calm and confident for Bellamy's sake, but she's starting to lose it a little herself, now. She thought she had the monopoly on holding a gun to her own head, round here. But if Bellamy is saying he wishes he had died on Etherea, she's scared. She can't lose him. All at once her head is jumping around from fear to fear. He came to the kitchen, with the knife block just an arm's length away. Was that deliberate? Was he planning to hurt himself? Was he -?

"Clarke? I'm sorry. You doing OK?" He asks, squeezing her hand. "I'm so sorry, I know this is a lot -"

"I'm coping." She says, because that seems more honest than I'm fine, and she thinks Bellamy's openness, here, merits a little transparency in return.

They sit quietly for a moment. Clarke tries to collect herself.

"Bellamy. I'm sorry, I just needed a minute. I need to ask you – are you saying you feel like trying to hurt yourself? Because if you do we can get you more help for that." She tries to sound more determined than desperate, and she's not entirely sure she succeeds.

"No. Not really. There's a difference between wanting to be dead and thinking it doesn't much matter whether I live." He says thoughtfully. "And honestly, I've mostly been feeling much better recently. I have lots to live for – working for peace and healing my relationships with you and Octavia. Today just got out of hand." He repeats. She gets the sense he's trying to convince himself as much as her.

She does her best to help him out with that. "Yes. I agree with you. That's normal, Bellamy. Recovery is complicated. Some days are worse than others and it's no one's fault. I guess maybe we need a plan for taking care of you next time a tough day hits you."

He nods, relaxes a little in her arms.

"Do you want to talk about some of the things you said just now? Or would you rather wait until you see Jackson? Can I at least tell you I'm happy you're still with me?"

He nods a little more.

She takes that for her cue to continue. "The way I see it, as long as we're still breathing, there's still hope. A very wise guy once told me that. But as long as we're still here, there's a chance for us to make things better. I think we're doing really well at the minute, Bellamy. I won't deny that things were probably simpler that day in the lab – but who cares? Things don't have to be simple to be good. And I know we cried less back then, but I would say we're closer now than ever." She offers. She thinks that's true. Their relationship now may be less happy in a conventional, smiley sense. But it is thriving in terms of honesty and trust and mutual support.

"Thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. But – I don't think my heart has got the message yet." He laughs self-consciously. "I'm trying to tell myself to stop feeling guilty and it's not quite working out."

"You'll get there. It'll take time."

"Yeah." He sighs. "Thanks for this, Clarke. Really. I'm so sorry. But I guess you already noticed that, huh?"

"I did. I understand your guilt is telling you to keep apologising, but you really don't need to."

He nods. "OK. Well. I'll try to -"

He's interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and Madi calling a cheerful greeting down the hallway.

Clarke sighs, starts unwrapping her arms from around Bellamy. "I'll go distract her." She says. She can imagine Bellamy wants nothing less than to have Madi see him like this.

To her surprise, he stands up, jaw set firm. "No. Let's both go say hi to her. We don't keep secrets from Madi, remember?"

Clarke blinks, stunned. But then she finds that she is nodding, and Bellamy is striding out the kitchen door ahead of her. She makes haste to follow him, finds Madi frowning and peering up at Bellamy's red-rimmed eyes and tired face.

"What happened?" Madi asks, audibly concerned.

"Nothing you need to worry about." Clarke assures her.

"I just had a... complicated day." Bellamy opts for, in the end.

There is a beat of silence. Madi nods, frowning, processing.

And then all at once she is stepping forward to hug Bellamy tight around the waist. Clarke cannot decide whether she wants to stand back and watch the two people she loves the most have their bonding moment, or whether she feels left out of all the fun.

Bellamy makes the decision for her, in the end. He throws a smile at her over his shoulder, reaches a hand out towards her in clear invitation.

Well, then. It looks like they are to share a family hug.

Clarke joins in, embracing her daughter and her husband as well as she can. It's an undignified sort of a mess, but it's undignified and messy in a far more warm and pleasant way than seeing Bellamy weeping alone when she came home this afternoon.

"We're making cookies tonight." Madi informs them both, still hugging.

"We don't have the ingredients for cookies." Clarke points out, ever the practical one.

"Come on, Clarke. Your daughter wants cookies. You're not going to say no to her? You want me to go get some ingredients?"

Madi laughs, pulls back and ends the hug. "You see? That's why you're the best stepdad."

It's a flippant comment. She says it quickly, instinctively, as if it's simply obvious.

But Clarke knows that it has made Bellamy's year all the same.

…...

Bellamy has an odd evening, all in all.

He felt simply awful this afternoon. Terrible. Ashamed and worthless and helpless. And he felt even worse, somehow, for crashing just when he was so sure things were looking up.

He can't decide whether or not he feels better, now. He's really taken to heart what Clarke said to him this afternoon, and her words definitely allayed some of his fears and guilt. But his mood has not suddenly picked up since then. It's not like a switch has been flicked in his brain. It's more that he knows he will feel better, tomorrow and the next day and the next, when her words have really had chance to sink in, and when he's discussed the events of the day with Jackson.

Madi's hug and heartfelt words and the family cookie baking session are like that, too. They make the light a little brighter, but the clouds of the day still linger, blocking some of it out.

In short, it is strange to have an objectively good evening at the end of such a dreadful day.

At least he doesn't feel like he's at a crisis point any more. That's good. So he supposes he does feel better, at least a little. He doesn't feel like he deserves to be a pathetic heap on the kitchen floor, which is surely progress.

He excuses himself to go to bed early, when the cookies are done. He sort of feels like, seeing as today has been a write-off, the best course of action might be to get some sleep and start over again tomorrow. And he's feeling pretty drained, so getting some extra rest or some quiet reading time sounds like it might be a good plan.

He takes his time over his bedroom routine. He has a warm shower, which actually helps him to feel a little more human. He finds himself some ugly plaid pyjamas which used to belong to Russell, presumably. He doesn't feel all that odd about wearing a dead man's clothes, though, because the alternative is sleeping in one of his white Disciple T shirts and that's the last thing he wants to do tonight. Then he reads a few pages of his book, but when the words don't sink in he decides that's fine and sets it calmly aside.

Today is a bad day. These things happen. He is still recovering.

The more he tells himself that, the better he feels. Clarke was right to point it out to him so firmly this afternoon. That was his big problem today – that he felt low about feeling low. That he felt guilty for letting her and Jackson down, that he dreaded being stuck in this depression forever. But Clarke has helped him to remember that it's OK to have days like this, and that he still stands some chance of being truly happy again, one day.

He turns onto his side, snuggles into his pillow and prepares for sleep. He wonders whether it would be alright to hug Clarke's pillow for a little while. Would that be strange? Or would she understand he just wanted something comforting to hold onto?

She'd be OK with it. He knows she would. He reaches out, clasps his fingers around the soft fabric and -

The door cracks open quietly.

"Bellamy?" Clarke whispers softly.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" He asks, letting go of the pillow and turning to face her.

"Last I checked it's my bedroom too." She points out, walking into the room and removing her shoes.

"No, I mean – what are you doing here now?" It's still a while until Madi's usual bedtime, and he knows Clarke likes to take her time over that ritual.

"I'm coming to bed early." She says, shrugging. "Turn round, will you? I want to change."

If she'd said that to him a couple of days ago, he thinks, he would probably have passed out on the spot from sheer shock. But as it is, he's too tired today to bother much about the mixture of arousal and surprise he feels at the idea of Clarke comfortably stripping while he breathes just a few feet away. He simply turns over and leaves her to it.

"Everything OK? What about Madi?" He asks mildly.

"She's decided she wants to take herself to bed tonight like a big kid. Funny coincidence that she's decided that on a night she could see I wanted to be here with you." Clarke points out, wry and just a little amused.

Bellamy nods against his pillow. That's an interesting development, he thinks, Clarke letting go of that essentially harmless but utterly pointless ritual of watching over Madi's bed time as if terrified the girl might disappear. He thinks it's progress, of a kind. But he'd rather she wasn't giving it up just because her concern for him currently outweighs even her permanent fixation on Madi's welfare. He'd quite like her, one day, to be able to let go of such anxious routines because she wants to, not just because something else is more pressing in this moment.

Whatever. Progress is progress. They're all doing their best, still breathing, still hoping.

He feels the mattress dip behind him. He's on the point of turning round and giving Clarke a goodnight hug when he feels something else, too. Her warm body, snuggling up against him. Her chest pressing into his back.

Her gentle hand slipping up his pyjama shirt and onto his stomach.

He freezes. He goes absolutely stock still, stunned, flushing hot all over. He wonders whether this is the moment he tells her he plans to love her again, just as soon as he's got out of this guilty rut. Or maybe it's time to let slip that he desperately wants to make love with her, if only he can remember how.

It turns out it's not that moment – not either of those moments.

He must have frozen too suddenly, too still, too long. She's drawing her hand away, scooting back from him as if she thinks she made some horrific mistake.

Well, now. He can't have her thinking that.

He catches her hand, laces their fingers together tightly.

"Stay." He asks her simply. "I really liked it."

She sighs in relief. "Yeah?"

"It felt great." He assures her, voice a little hoarse.

He dares to let go of her fingers. She doesn't flee – rather she splays her hand over his stomach, more confidently this time. He can feel each one of her fingers pressing into his skin, wonders whether maybe he really did lose his mind on Etherea. He's experienced things plenty more sexual than this before now and not found himself anywhere near so flustered.

Then it gets better still. Then she presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

"That OK?" She asks.

"Yeah. Perfect."

A couple more slow pecks on the back of his neck. Her hand is still on his stomach, too. And Bellamy fishes desperately for ideas on what he ought to be doing, here. He's not trying to move things forward, as such. He's not ready for that. But he wants to do something sweet and affirming to show Clarke that he's finding this really comforting and a little too pleasant. To show her that he's grateful and relaxed and happy, and that she's welcome to nudge her toes further across this line between friendship and romance any time she likes.

He rests his hand over hers. It's not much, he supposes, but it's better than nothing. He runs a thumb over her knuckles, her fingers. It's her left hand, and all at once he's struck by a bittersweet thought.

"We don't have rings. Can we get rings when all this mess with Cadogan is through?"

He hears her breath catch in her throat. Too late, he realises his mistake. What a stupid, naive, pathetic question to ask, he curses himself. Obviously they cannot get rings when all this mess with Cadogan is through. When this is over, they will not need to sustain this arranged marriage, will they? When the threat of transcendence is past, Clarke will be free to marry someone she has actually chosen.

He doesn't want to be her only choice.

"Sorry. Stupid question. I mean – if you still want us to be married. I get it if you want to go marry someone else." He rushes to fix it, fears he only makes it worse.

She's still for a moment, silent. But she's not quite frozen, somehow. She's holding him tight and pressing her hand into his stomach and breathing a little more calmly.

Then she drops one more kiss to the back of his neck.

"I can't imagine marrying anyone else." She says at last. "How could I, after everything we've been through? I know this is a pretty odd marriage. But it's ours. And if you want to get rings, I'm with you." She swallows loudly. "If you want to stay married, I'm with you."

He feels a smile split his face. The way he sees it, that's almost a little bit like accepting a marriage proposal – albeit the weirdest marriage proposal of all time, he suspects. He tugs her hand towards his lips and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. It feels funny, somehow, and confirms that he really isn't ready to try anything else. The texture of her soft skin against his lips shoots straight to his groin and that actually scares him slightly. He's felt out of control of his own life for months, now, and he's not ready to lose control in this way on top of all that.

And yet set against that, it does feel good. Comforting and thrilling and somehow delicious.

If he already felt odd this evening, he feels even odder now. He's delighted that he and Clarke settled that. Yet the low mood of the day still lingers. It's the strangest thing, he decides, to feel such happiness in the midst of such despair.

He tries to have a go at explaining himself.

"That's great, Clarke. That's – I'm so happy about that. But today has been a lot and I just need to lie here quietly if that's OK."

"It's more than OK." She tells him at once. "You're fine. Thanks for asking for what you need for a change." She says, a little teasing.

He rises to her challenge. He places her hand back on his stomach, covers it with his own. "I need this." He tells her softly.

She hums in agreement, starts stroking his skin a little with her thumb.

"How are you doing? I know it's been a big day for you as well." He asks her in turn. She may have banned him from apologising, but he can still ask how she's coping.

"I'm good, really. This is exactly what I needed, too." She says, snuggling ever closer. He's not sure whether she's referring to the embrace or the tentative kisses or the conversation about their marriage.

He suspects, in fact, that she might be talking about all three.

He starts to doze off before long. He feels comfortable here, safe and cherished and truly at home.

Just as he is on the point of falling asleep, Clarke speaks up.

"I already have a ring." She mutters, fast, as if she's been considering the words for a while. "I have my mum's. It's been in my bedside drawer since the morning after we got married."

He laughs. He can't help it. Ever since he chose love over transcendence, he's been worrying about whether he had any chance of a future with Clarke. And yet here she is telling him that she's been hoping for a future with him all along. He simply cannot think of any other interpretation for her keeping a ring secretly in her drawer.

"Then I'm sorry it took me this long to bring it up." He says lightly.

"That's OK. It's been complicated." She offers, with a nervous laugh.

He pauses a moment, considers his words. "That's great, Clarke. If you want to wear her old ring then I understand. We can just get one made for me when we figure our way out of this?"

"Yeah. It'll give us something to look forward to."

It's a funny business, he decides, as he slips towards sleep once more. This is not how he saw the day panning out, when he tried not to cry into his fruit juice this morning.

a/n Thanks for reading!