It was just supposed to be another job. That's how it started: a meeting in a coffee shop with a pretty blonde who Bellamy hadn't realized would soon become the reason he looked forward to waking up in the morning. But it ends here: in a warehouse, by lantern light, with two guns pointed at his head and the gun that is in her eyes pointed at his heart. Guess which of the three was killing him.

But there is a moment - just before the bullet finds its target and just after the trigger is pulled - when he wonders if he ever knew the truth. If he even knows it now.

But he was too focused on the blood sliding down her wrist. It was reminding him of something - of a memory. People are wrong about the speed of a bullet. The time between the sound and the impact. It's not instantaneous. It's an eternity.

It's enough time to take Bellamy back to the start. Back to before he even knew her name.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He met her, as he did all his clients, in a public place of her choosing. She picked a coffee shop almost an hour away, so already, Bellamy was considering turning down the case. Not that he was really in a financial position to turn it down. Her name was Clarke Griffin, and he wondered if she had any connections to Abigail Griffin. If she did, that would make her an heiress. It would also probably make this case his worst nightmare. He hated solving rich people's problems, and he could only guess what a twenty-three year old heiress would need a private detective's help with. Especially considering he's one of the ones with cheaper rates.

Arkadia wasn't exactly a small town, so it wasn't like he was the only available PI. If her last name really belonged to the woman he suspected it belonged to, she should be able to have the cream of the crop. Not him, a cheap detective from a shady part of town who had only been working for two years. Now, she was making him bust his ass to get to Polis just to hear about how she didn't know if her boyfriend really loved her or if he was just after her money. Spoiler alert: if she was hiring Bellamy, the guy was after her money. But maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Griffin wasn't that uncommon a last name. He could have the wrong person.

His hunches were usually right, though. That's why he became a private investigator. It was the only thing he'd ever been truly good at.

(And well, he was right, it would turn out. But not about everything.)

He got to this coffee shop and she was already sitting there. She'd given him a brief description of what she was wearing so he'd be able to recognize her, but once he caught sight of her, he thought that she should've just told him about her hair. You couldn't miss that blonde head from a mile away.

Maybe he was being an asshole here, but the moment he sat down, he couldn't help but say, "So is it Griffin as in Abigail Griffin?"

Her pretty face - and it was kind of a pretty face - immediately soured. Bellamy almost liked the scowl better than the smile. Both were nice. But that wasn't why he was here. She slid a coffee toward him. "I didn't know what you liked so I just got two of my order."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow and took a sip, then had to mask his surprise when he realized she took it completely black. He didn't look her in the eye as he reached for a creamer cup. This was already going poorly. It was important that he had the upper hand. Even if she was his boss, he had to be in charge, or else she wouldn't tell him everything he needed to know. Clients were always trying to get away with that shit, only telling him the bits that didn't embarrass them, or make them feel ashamed.

However, by the clear dodge of his question, Clarke had just told him that he was right. He wasn't expecting her to touch on the topic again, but as soon as he set his coffee down, she looked him in the eyes and said, "Yes, as in Abigail Griffin. I don't talk to my mother anymore, but I do still have plenty of money, so if you're worried about your paycheck, you don't need to be." He'd find out later that the money came from her father's will, that she was actually nothing like the heiress he'd assumed her to be. But at that moment he felt a very familiar feeling: the resentment that comes from knowing that he was going to have to be sprinting and fighting tooth and nail just to scrape by, and people like Clarke Griffin would be set for life without even having to talk to their mommies.

He couldn't show that, though. Not to a client. "Okay, then. So what problem is so big that Abigail Griffin's daughter needs a private detective?"

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, he wondered if she would decide not to hire him right there. He almost hoped she wouldn't, and after only three minutes of conversation, he would probably deserve that. But he needed the money and this girl was going to give it to him. Still, she apparently wasn't just going to let that one slide. "My name is Clarke. And the detective isn't for me."

Now that was interesting. "But you're the one doing the paying?"

"I'm the one who has the money."

"So you're not at all involved in the situation, then."

"Well, I wouldn't say that." She opened her mouth, presumably to tell him what she was hiring him for, but Bellamy had two bones to pick first.

"Before you tell me all your secrets, I need you to understand that I'm located in Arkadia. I'm not going to bust my ass every day to get to Polis, not unless you want to pay for my gas."

Her face betrayed a slight hint of concern. "Do you need travel expenses for getting here?"

It was a heroic effort not to roll his eyes. "I need to know if I'm going to need to get here everyday."

"Oh. No, I live in Arkadia."

"So why meet here?"

Clarke raised her eyebrow. "You're a PI who meets in public. I don't want to risk being overheard by the very people I need protection from."

Now Bellamy was definitely interested. This didn't sound like simple relationship issues. He was on the verge of being all in. Once he committed to a case, he committed. No holding back. He would do whatever he could to help his client. And even though he needed money and needed it bad, he didn't like to take cases that he felt would be making the world a bit of a worse place. There was a difference between an affair and sabotage. He just had one final question before he'd shut up and listen. "Okay. And why me?"

"I'm sorry?"

"My wages aren't exactly steep. You're rich enough to hire whoever you want, and god knows I've got competition in Arkadia. Why are you hiring me and not them?"

The corner of Clarke's mouth twitched like she wanted to smile. "Rather suspicious, aren't you?"

"I'm a detective. That's my job."

That earned a real smile. Bellamy had the sudden urge to try and earn another one. But her face grew very serious very quickly and it produced the successful effect of getting his full attention. "Because I need help from someone I can trust. And I need the best. I hear you get results and I hear you're a good guy. I hear you're working this job because you have someone you care about to support."

Now, he was almost uneasy. If Octavia ever came into the equation in any way, he grew ten times more wary. "Where are you hearing this?" he said, hoping to sound as serious as he was trying to instead of just worried.

"Raven Reyes. Don't worry, she didn't tell me who it was you're taking care of."

Relief set in quickly. Raven. Former client. Wanted to know if her scumbag boyfriend was cheating on her, and of course, he was. But she was cool. Actually, she was friends with Octavia, and sometimes she and Bellamy would grab drinks whenever they needed to bitch about their problems to someone who'd laugh at them. Sometimes you needed someone to laugh at your issues so they didn't feel so heavy. Raven was good at that.

Now that he knew Clarke was friends with her, and good enough friends that Raven felt she could trust her, she went up a few rankings in Bellamy's books. Raven wouldn't tell just anyone about Octavia. She knew how Bellamy felt about that. She and Clarke must be close.

He sighed. Well, there was no way he'd get out of this job now, not when it was practically a favor for a friend. Plus, he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to. Clarke Griffin was looking a lot more interesting at second glance. "Okay. So what am I being hired for?"

"Her name is Madi. She lives in my building." She spoke carefully, like she'd practiced this speech before meeting him. "She's only nineteen and she doesn't have any family. I'm the only person who can take care of her." Bellamy nodded. He could understand that. "She's being blackmailed."

Now that was interesting. Bellamy made sure to keep his face neutral and steady. "For what?"

"Drugs."

Despite his efforts, he was sure he looked taken aback. "Does she have them?"

"No."
"Do you know that for sure?"

"Yes," Clarke said simply. He was skeptical, but he said nothing.

Bellamy sighed. "Look, I need you to lay this out for me. Why would someone blackmail her for drugs then? Is she rich?"

"I already told you she doesn't have any money."

"Right. So what am I missing?"

Clarke sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "Her boyfriend was the one with the drugs. They grew up together. He didn't start using until a couple years back, always made sure to keep her out of it. And she did keep out of it."

"Okay, so why's she the one getting blackmailed then?"

"He OD'd three weeks ago."

Bellamy winced and looked away. If that had been Octavia… but he had to stay focused. "I feel like I'm missing something here."

Clarke nodded. "A few days before he died, he was shooting up in their apartment. She got mad, told him she didn't want any drugs in their home and he told her that he'd stashed the drugs where 'no one could find them now.' I guess whatever he'd gotten himself into he wasn't taking seriously enough. Then a few days later he told her he was going to stay at a friend's house. Then he died."

Bellamy could finish the story on his own. "And now someone thinks Madi knows where her boyfriend stashed the drugs." Clarke nodded. It seemed simple, but this was already looking like a far more interesting case than he had ever worked. (Little did he know how true that would turn out to be.) "So where do I come into this?"

"I want you to help me track down the guy who's doing it. I want enough evidence to be sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it's him." She looked down. He followed her gaze to her hands and saw that she was fidgeting with them. The first sign since meeting her that Clarke was nervous. "But I need to tell you my one rule before we make this official."

"Okay."

She didn't look up until she'd finished speaking. "No cops." Like most private detectives, Bellamy had a connection with someone on the force. A perfectly legal one - not all PI-cop relationships were. But it came in handy. Still, he let her keep going. "I'm sure you know, but not all the cops can be trusted when it comes to the drug culture in Arkadia." It was true that not all cops in Arkadia were as honorable as Nathan Miller, if any of them were. He had a feeling he knew exactly who she was talking about, and it was almost impressive. She must have really done her research.

Clarke took a sip of her coffee. Then, she went on. "There are two exceptions to the rule. If anything happens to Madi, we do what we have to do and call an ambulance. And if you get hurt, the choice is yours."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Me?"

"Or anyone you care about." He must have looked surprised, because she laughed a bit. "Well, I'm not going to hold your life hostage because you're working a case. Anyway, the cop thing is only in case of emergency. Otherwise, I can take care of it. I used to go to med school."

"Duly noted." If Bellamy was like other private detectives, this was where he might take a moment to reconsider taking this case. But the moment he'd heard that a young girl was in trouble, he knew that he could never turn this down.

"Alright. Last order of business." She slid a key across the table with a note attached to it on which an address was neatly written.

"Sorry, what's this for?" Bellamy asked, taking it.

"That's to my apartment. It'll be easier for you to have one."

"Right, I got that, I'm just trying to understand why I would need a key to your apartment."

"So we can work on the case," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm hiring you because two minds are better than one."

"I usually work alone."

Clarke smiled at him. It was cute. It was infuriating. "Then consider me your partner."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Little did he know it then, but time was already running out.

The trigger has been pulled. The bullet's about to leave the barrel of the gun. And something is ending.

But in his memory, Bellamy is knocking on her door for the first time, nervous for some indiscernible reason, and on the precipice of everything. From here, it won't even take him very long to realize that he's gone past the point of no return.