A/N: Enjoy this little slice of future Clarke and Lincoln – I know I enjoyed writing it!
Disclaimer: All things The 100 related belong to Kass Morgan and the writers of the amazing TV show – the rest is mine!
Epilogue
Lincoln watched Clarke as she bent over the midnight blue bundle of wool she had been doggedly slaving over – evening after evening - for the past few weeks. Her blonde hair fell around her face and she swept it over one shoulder in an irritated gesture, narrowing her eyes in concentration. He could only see part of what she held, having been banished from her vicinity enough times lately to know he was not welcome, but to his eyes it looked like a patterned sweater of some sort.
It was his Christmas present, and she was especially cagey over it. He knew she hadn't known how to knit, and had been taking lessons off one of the elders from his old village. Not much about Clarke slipped past him, and she really wasn't very good at keeping secrets. He wanted to go over there and wrap his arms around her, work off some of the chill of the outdoors, but she would be upset if he ruined the surprise. Even if she'd enjoy his distraction at the time. He was good at distracting her, and she was getting better at relaxing and delegating tasks to others. Hence, the new knitting hobby.
It was an especially cold evening, and the double doors to the main building they had taken to leaving propped open out of necessity, with so many coming and going at all hours, were currently shut tight against the chill. He stood in the cavernous hall alone, observing all that they had achieved with a substantial amount of pride.
The large picture window above him, midway on the wide, curving staircase, had been boarded up like many others to preserve heat. The left wing, where Clarke was currently occupied, had become a common area where people came to eat their meals and regularly socialise. A wood fire crackled in the grand fireplace, providing a cosy backdrop for the various card and drinking games ensuing, and the companionable (and a few more raucous) conversations taking place.
Pictures drawn by the youngest members of their society, the orphaned children from Mount Weather, were beginning to stack up and covered much of the cracked paint on the walls. Colourful, woven rugs concealed the tiled flooring, and hung from the windows as a form of both privacy and insulation. Bundles of greenery meant to mimic holly, bright bows and a few rare candles had been added to the décor recently.
A large evergreen had been hauled in some days ago and decorated to much applause. This had baffled him – but it made everyone happy to have an upcoming celebration, so he had decided early on to embrace this old, if slightly odd tradition.
Most of the people gathered around the tables were sampling Jasper's latest brew. It was Christmas Eve after all, they kept reminding him. Lincoln had made a point of going back for the apples in the orchard, and though they had cut and dried many of them for the winter stores, there had been some set aside for cider. There would be sore heads aplenty in the morning. Luckily for them, the hydro farm they had created was seemingly self-sufficient, and the food stores were nearly full from all their hard work farming, gathering and hunting. The hydro power unit Raven and Monty and a few select others had been working on was not ready, but they deserved the break more than anyone. Tomorrow was to be a day of rest for all.
Several rooms led off this main one – chiefly used for food preparation, storage and what Clarke called 'crafting'. A surprising number of the teenagers had been interested in carpentry, and they were gaining quite a collection of furniture. Thankfully, wood was one of the most ready materials available to them.
Lincoln smiled as Clarke swore and unravelled a mistake. She was determined to finish before the night was over. He turned to look behind him. The right wing had more practical and tactical uses – weapons and hand to hand training (he had especially enjoyed teaching Clarke new grappling techniques late one night). It was also home to their engineering and communications workroom, and it was usually where he might find Clarke or Bellamy, as it had become the leader's unofficial drop-in area. One particular room had been sectioned off as a school room. Lincoln spent a lot of time in there at the moment, but only because teaching earth skills to children frightened of their own shadow, never mind the frost and freeze of winter, seemed to work better in an environment they found semi-familiar.
As he watched, Bellamy left one of the offshoots of that main room, Savage at his heels. The dog had a clear pecking order of preference in his humans, and much to both men's surprise, they seemed to possess equal stature in his eyes. He had no clear number two. He gave Lincoln a quick, friendly sniff.
Clarke, however, was still his number one. The puppy barked with delight when he scented her, eventually spotted her and then of course bounded over. Lincoln and Bellamy be damned. She received his enthusiastic greeting as she always did, by lavishing love and attention on him – knitting project temporarily forgotten. No wonder the pup thought she hung the moon. He completely understood the sentiment.
Bellamy stopped at his side. "Not joining in the festivities?"
"I've been banned again." Lincoln said.
"Ah." Said Bellamy. "The great surprise that wasn't a surprise at all."
"I'll just be glad when she's finished."
"When she's finished, you'll have to wear it."
Lincoln smiled wistfully. "I won't mind."
"You are whipped." Bellamy made a cracking sound to mimic his words.
"One day, you'll find someone you'll do anything for."
"Yeah. Maybe. Maybe not. Looks like she's done for the night." Bellamy saluted him and headed towards the party.
Lincoln watched Clarke pack away the knitting project in her backpack and hoist it over her shoulder. With Savage in tow, she walked towards him, smiling shyly when she realised he was waiting for her.
"Ready for bed?" he asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
Lincoln gave her a curious look and offered his hand. She seemed nervous, a little on edge. He hoped she wasn't really worried about giving him his present tomorrow – he didn't mind if she hadn't finished yet. It was the sentiment behind it that counted. Nobody had ever given him anything before – made something that was especially for him, and for that reason alone he was touched.
She took his hand and let him lead her away. The upstairs had been divided into private living quarters – some shared, some solo. Some, like his and Clarke's, a sort of family unit with multiple rooms. When Abby wasn't teaching medicine at the various tribes of his people, she stayed with them. It had been rough at first, forging a dynamic that worked, gaining harmony between them all, and forgiveness between mother and daughter, but Lincoln thought they were finally there.
Clarke started stripping as soon as they entered the small lounge area of their unit. Savage curled up in his cosy bed of blankets, his eyes already drifting shut. Neither of these things were anything new – Savage was still in that puppy mode of playing lots and then sleeping lots. Clarke worked herself to the bone, and lately she'd been working really hard to get everything set up before the holiday season. She practically fell into bed these days.
Lincoln reached over to help her take off her boots when she stumbled into a chair. "Here, let me."
Clarke ran a hand over his scalp and curved it round to cradle his jaw. "Have I told you I love you today?"
He looked up at her as he pulled first one boot, then the other off. Gently massaging her feet, he said. "You do not need to say the words, I can see it every time you look at me."
Clarke groaned and closed her eyes. "Have I told you lately how perfect you are?"
He laughed. "I'll remind you of that next time you yell at me for leaving uncured animal hides in the lounge."
Clarke laughed too, then stood to pull off the rest of her clothes in sloppy movements as she stumbled away. Lincoln stripped down to his underwear and followed her into their bedroom. She practically fell on the bed, and he slipped the covers out from under her, tucking them around them both and spooning her back.
Clarke turned to face him, her head resting so that they shared one pillow and the tip of her nose touched his. "I'm really tired."
"I know, my love." He tilted his chin and kissed her nose.
"But I really want you." Then she was kissing him.
Lincoln went up in a blaze of passion any time she so much as touched him. He had never felt anything like it. Kissing her back with everything he had – running his hands over her smooth skin, touching every part of her he could reach and relishing in her moans and whimpers. He took her, linking their fingers together above her head, staring into her eyes. He groaned deeply when they climaxed together, feeling like it couldn't get better every time, and every time proving himself wrong.
They fell asleep still intertwined, with him still inside her and her chin tucked into his neck.
The next morning, Clarke's hurried movements woke him. He opened his eyes to see her run out of the room – naked as the day she was born. Seconds later she rushed back in, her backpack in hand.
She scrambled back under the covers, her feet already chilly as she tucked them against his legs. He shivered and drew her closer.
"Why are you awake?" he asked.
"I wanted to give you your present." Her tone was brimming with excitement.
He opened his eyes wider and studied her. Her eyes sparkled and she seemed on the verge of laughter. This was important, so he sat up and tucked her under his arm. "Give me my present then. I'm absolutely ignorant about what it could be."
Clarke pulled open the backpack and handed him the finished knitting project, folded neatly. He spread it open and stared at the back of what he'd always known was a sweater. It wasn't badly done at all – he would show Bellamy and wear this with pride.
"I love it." He said.
"Turn it over." She urged.
Lincoln did so. Then froze.
"What…" He spluttered. His mind felt like it was caught in the tide, wiped afresh like the sand every time a wave rocked in. He couldn't catch his thoughts. He couldn't catch his breath. "What…Clarke?"
"Merry Christmas, Papa." Clarke smiled through tears. Happy tears, he knew.
The words emblazoned on the front read 'BEST DAD IN THE UNIVERSE'.
He pushed Clarke gently onto her back and threw the covers off them both. She quivered at the bite in the air, but kept on smiling. Grinning stupidly really. Lincoln felt tears unexpectedly fill his eyes. He touched her stomach gently, then leaned over to kiss it. He showered it with kisses until she giggled. "That tickles!"
He moved back up the bed and kissed her, putting everything he felt into it until he thought she could burst with it all – her emotions, his emotions, all swirling around inside of her. She had a miracle inside of her – a little piece of him, and a little piece of her. A whole another being.
"Are you happy?" she asked. The question was a shy one.
"No." Lincoln leapt to his feet. "I'm thrilled."
Clarke's joyous laughter followed him as he left the room. Lincoln fled down the corridor and burst into Bellamy's room as dawn started to brighten the sky. For a second, he stopped in shock when he realised that instead of a casual bedwarmer (a term he had adopted from Clarke for Bellamy's regular and varied female conquests), Echo, Roan's long-standing second in command glared at him over the edge of the covers.
"What's happened?" Bellamy groused. He lifted a sleep tussled head from his pillow and squinted his way. "Are we under attack?"
"I'm going to be a father." Lincoln couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice.
"That's nice." Bellamy grumbled. He thumped his head back down and closed his eyes. "Can you close the door on your way out?"
As Lincoln was leaving to spread the good news, he heard Bellamy say in a confused tone. "Wait…Clarke's pregnant?"
Clarke
It was still pretty early in the morning and she'd been trying in vain to get some extra sleep in. She was always tired these days – apparently growing another human being took a lot out of a person. She'd been sure the teens would want to stay in bed late, take the rare opportunity to sleep in, but no, squeals and shouts had woken her not long ago and she'd given in to the futility of it all and come to investigate.
Bellamy had clearly had the same idea, because she came across him in the upstairs hallway, looking down on the obvious shenanigans. He rubbed a tired hand over his face and yawned.
"What's all the screaming about?" Clarke asked as she joined him. She yawned in automatic reaction – damn, sympathetic yawning.
White drifts of frozen ice swept across the window, blown about in smooth and delicate motions like dancers on a ballroom floor. It was already coating the landscape like a protective layer of dust, piling high in crevices, weighing down the branches of trees.
Clarke stood fascinated for a moment. She had never seen anything quite so beautiful. People always said that in books, but it was true. There was something so fresh, so clean…so promising, about snow.
"It's their first snow." Bellamy said. He turned to Clarke and grinned cockily. "The kids are all grown up, Mama."
Clarke patted her only-very-slightly rounded abdomen. "That's okay, I've a new one on the way."
"So I hear." Bellamy said. "Congrats, by the way. I'm really happy for you guys."
"Thanks." They shared a smile. "A little birdy told me you've got a new lady friend, is it serious?"
Bellamy stiffened slightly. "Lincoln's really just an overgrown teenage girl, isn't he?"
"I'll tell him you said that." Clarke said.
"Good. I could use a new sparring partner."
They watched snow ball fights erupt from all corners of the side yard. Next year they hoped to use the land for crops, but for now it worked as storage for the trees they'd chopped down, ready to be turned into firewood - fuel to keep them all warm in the even colder days to come. Apparently stacked trees made for a good assault course, and a snowball shield.
"When is Octavia due?" Clarke asked.
"She sent a letter with Roan when he arrived from Polis last night. Apparently, she's been unexpectedly delayed, but she'll be here in a few days." Bellamy shook his head wearily.
"Delayed." Clarke chuckled. "Your sister is smitten."
"Tell me about it. And there was me thinking it was scary guys I needed to watch out for. Instead my sister has a thing for scary women."
"It could be worse."
"Oh yeah?" Bellamy leaned against the wall and sent her one of his raised-brow-unimpressed looks.
"Yeah. She could have had a thing for Roan."
"That would be worse." Bellamy said. "You should hear the stories Echo has to tell."
"I hear he's making progress on his appeal for the right to rule Azgeda."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Bellamy frowned. "First he's got to dethrone his mom."
Clattering noises on the staircase caught their attention. Raven and Miller approached in a hurry. They took the steps two at a time and their expressions were practically identical; full of secret smiles and glee.
Miller dropped to his knees in front of her, skidding slightly, and before she could stop him he spoke to her stomach. "Hey there, little grounder. We're all so excited to meet you!"
Clarke laughed and pushed his face away. "Stop that!"
"Your man is shouting that shit from the rooftop." Raven hugged her tightly, followed by Miller once he'd gotten to his feet.
Clarke shrugged. Inside she glowed warm with the feeling of rightness. "He's just excited."
"No." Raven snorted with supressed laughter. "I mean he's literally shouting it from the rooftop as we speak."
Oh jeez, what was her man like. They all snickered as Clarke jogged for the staircase to the roof level. She'd have to have words with him – the last thing she needed was her baby daddy taking a tumble head first down the equivalent of three stories.
Bursting onto the roof, she peered through the flurries of snow – stopping to watch as several flakes came to rest on her nose, even though she ended up cross eyed. She stuck her tongue out to taste it – promises, just like she thought. Blurry movement ahead made her refocus.
Lincoln stood with his arms held out wide, he turned and beckoned to her. "Come fly with me, Clarke."
Clarke took a running, laughing leap into his arms.
A/N: That's all folks. Hope you enjoyed the ending, and it tied up any lingering questions you might have had. Hope it left you feeling hopeful, and like the future was promising. Most of all, I hope it left you feeling happy.
