A/N: Thanks to PenguinofProse for being an awesome beta, and bfiler0603 for helping out and not getting sick of all my rambling.
I apoloogise for the delay in updating, this last month hasn't been the greatest for me.
Here's some more Bellarke, but it contains trigger warnings for attempted suicide, discussion of injury, addictions, depression...I think that's it.
Chapter Twelve
Tuesday was shaping up to be a bad day. Bellamy wasn't sure if it was just him, or if the world was in a horrible mood. His head ached, he was moody, on edge, and his knee wouldn't stop throbbing. By the end of the school day he was struggling to suppress the tremor in his hands.
There were not enough distractions and he knew he shouldn't be alone on a day like this. His first instinct was to call Clarke which sent a burst of anxiety through him because if, after less than a month, she was already the first person he thought of...well he might just be in trouble. He hadn't even figured out how to tell her about the issues he had developed in the last six years let alone prepared himself for the conversation.
And then there were the few people who actually knew about his issues who should have been top of his list. His girlfriend for one, but after shoving down the surge of guilt he reminded himself that he knew she was working a stake out tonight. Miller was next, but week nights were either spent with Jackson during his rare time off or spent picking up extra guard duties to lighten the load on his security team.
Which only left Octavia. As much as his sister had matured, it was still hard for him to go to her for help on days like this. So he tried Miller, just in case, only to catch him on his way to meet Jackson for a date night. Good for Miller, but unfortunate for Bellamy.
Alone time would be good for him, he tried to reason...perhaps, for once, he would be able to convince himself to be fine on his own.
He wasn't even home a full hour before he couldn't take the solitude any longer and was in his car and on the road before his phone had finished connecting to his sister.
It rang out twice and he was already halfway to O's when he finally got a hold of her.
"Hi Big Brother," she greeted, almost cheerfully, which gave him pause.
"Hey O." He hadn't meant to stutter over his words, but it had been a long time since he had heard that tone in her voice when it was directed his way. "Echo's working late and I remembered Lincoln works Tuesday nights, so I thought maybe I could stop by and spend some time with you."
"Ah," he could already hear the rejection in her tone. "Sorry Bell, I'm not at home."
"Oh." He had to shove the disappointment down. "That's alright. I should have called earlier or something. Next time." He pulled over so he could end the conversation before turning back for home or coming up with some other idea of what to do with himself. To give himself time to calm and reevaluate how he was going to cope tonight.
There was a pause before his sister's voice came over the line again. "Is this one of those days you don't want to be alone for?"
"Yeah," he said on a relieved sigh. Man did he love his sister, that she knew without him having to say it. Two and a half years they hadn't spoken to each other and she had grown so much as a person in that time that six months back into repairing their relationship she was just so much more understanding than he remembered.
His sister paused again and the muffled noise suggested she had covered the mic to speak to someone else. "319 Thirteenth Street," she said when she came back on.
"What?"
"I'm at Clarke's." His heart gave an extra strong thump. "You should join us."
Was he even allowed to show up at her place by his sister's invitation? Bellamy wasn't sure he was comfortable with the idea that the answer might be no. "Is that okay?"
"I'm not a child," Octavia huffed. "I wouldn't just invite you to someone else's place. Clarke partially overheard and suggested it. Madi, Murphy and I are the only ones with her. You'll probably enjoy having less people around while you spend time with her, right?"
He couldn't deny that that was an appealing idea, but today wasn't his best day. "I don't want to show up at Clarke's for the first time empty handed."
"Then help Murphy cook or something instead. Now stop making excuses and just come over."
"I'm not ready to tell Clarke." He sighed heavily with the addmision.
"Then don't, Bell." Was that sympathy he could hear in his sister's voice? "See how you go and if it gets too hard, we can leave."
"You'd do that?"
"We're family." He could somehow hear her shrug.
"Can she still hear you?" Bellamy really hated this insecure feeling that was consuming him.
"Nope, I left the room."
"I love you, O."
"Love you too, Bell. Does that mean you're coming over?"
"Yeah. 319, you said?" He flicked on his indicator and turned his attention back to the road.
"You can't miss it. See you soon." With that, Octavia hung up on him.
Octavia's place was just off Thirteenth Street so Bellamy didn't have a problem finding his way to Clarke's and a little laugh fell out of him when he pulled up in front of 319. His sister hadn't been wrong, the pops of brightness stood out from all the other houses he had driven by.
He had never really thought of a house representing the people who lived there, had lived in apartments for as long as he could remember. And even though the interior of Octavia and Lincoln's new place had been decorated to match their style, the exterior was traditional with a modern coloured coat of paint.
Clarke's house, on the other hand, was so...Clarke.
There was no picket fence, just a row of sunflowers that almost reached his shoulder bordering the pavement. The mailbox appeared to be a cleaned up antique, bright red with an embossed crest and 'LETTERS ONLY' in bold capitals, perched atop a swirl of black iron. The lawn wasn't lawn at all, but moss that wove between the flagstone pavers of the pathway and driveway. There was another row of bushes he couldn't identify in the fading light that ran along the front of the house.
The weatherboards of the house had been painted a contemporary grey sometime in the last few years, the trimmings all in white, and the door was a lively mustard yellow.
He couldn't help but snort out a chuckle when the dimmed porch light flashed brighter the closer he got and he spotted the small white daisies and vibrant autumn leaves that had been painted around the vintage door handle and door knocker. The house was outwardly simple, but all the pops of colour gave it so much personality.
Even the sound of the doorbell when he pressed it was unique. A calm, but somehow still cheerful, tune of wind chimes.
Octavia was the one who answered the door to him. "Bellamy's here." She called into the house, then turned back to him. "It's housework day," she said by way of explanation. "I was bored at home so I thought I would help out."
"You weren't kidding when you said you lived close by." Octavia stole his coat and hung it off one of a series of quirky, mismatched doorknobs that were sticking out of the wall by the door and now served as a form of coat rack, if the other two coats hanging similarly were anything to go by. He already loved the place, from the unique coat hangers, to the muted but colourful bohemian rug in the entrance, to the tall Monstrera plant that sat in the corner across from the door, and he'd only seen the front hall.
Murphy stuck his head into view at the end of the hallway and called a hello. Bellamy was still returning it when his attention was pulled to Madi, coming down the stairs in a leaping sort of way that made his stomach jump anxiously, her level of exuberance and energy not seeming safe while maneuvering down stairs.
He was both startled and completely emotionally touched by the way Madi threw her arms around him and squeezed, moving back before he even had a chance to think about reciprocating.
That was when he noticed Clarke, partway down said stairs, leaning her hip against the banister, arms crossed, but with the softest and most indulgent expression of affection he had ever seen her wear on her face.
Meeting his eyes, she came the rest of the way down to join them all, and when she hit the bottom tread, he opened his arms and she walked right into them without missing a step.
A sigh of relief slipped out of Bellamy, unbidden. His body was already relaxing. Clarke always seemed to force his troubles to the back burner in a way that took the tension and stress right out of him. Having her in his arms like this, warm and corporeal against him, he couldn't describe how it made him feel that anything could be put to rights.
In what felt like too short a time, she pulled back to smile at him and offer him a spoken welcome to her home.
"You have moss instead of lawn." Came out of his mouth as a way to force himself to lighten his disappointment.
"Yup, super low maintenance and green all year round." Clarke grinned at him and motioned for him to follow her.
Her house really was shaping up to be a place he loved. The walls were a shade of white that didn't come across as overly bright or crisp, the timber floorboards were light too, but there was colour everywhere. In the artworks hanging on the walls, and the plants placed about the room. In the muted pinks and blues and oranges in the otherwise off-white rug on the floor, and in the sofas and armchairs, one of which was a wonderfully odd shade of mustard that somehow matched the blush and olive tones in the other seats, even the mismatched throws and cushions scattered around somehow still felt cohesive.
The most Clarke thing about the room though, were the tiny images painted into corners and architraves. Some of flowers, one of distant birds in flight. His favourite was the two random little goldfish by the window seat.
This room shouldn't have matched, but somehow it did, and it was putting a huge smile on his lips. Turning to Clarke, he was surprised to find an answering smile that he could only describe as being shy.
"Bellamy." Madi's voice turned his head to the teen. "Here you go." She held out a small, nondescript box to him, and he took it, blinking in confusion between Madi and the box. "Open it." Madi huffed at him.
Prompted into action, Bellamy opened it to find an amethyst geode nestled within. It didn't clear up his confusion, so he glanced to Clarke for some help.
"Why don't you explain, Madi?" Clarke encouraged.
"Oh, right, so we went hiking for my birthday the other day and they were selling crystals, so I got one for everyone." Madi blazed through her explanation. "I didn't want to give it to you in school because I thought that might seem weird. But there you go." She motioned to the boxed crystal in his hand. "I have one for Echo too, but I'll give it to her when I see her. Yours is amethyst because it can relieve stress and soothe irritability, balance mood swings, dispels anger, rage, fear and anxiety." Madi ticked them off on her fingers.
It was just a purple crystal, but the thought behind it was beginning to squeeze all his emotions out into the open for all to see.
"Thanks Madi." He barely choked on the words at all.
"You're welcome." Beaming, Madi announced she had homework to finish and disappeared back up the stairs.
Bellamy finally noticed Octavia had disappeared at some point as well, and it was just he and Clarke in the room now.
"Want a bit of a tour?" Clarke offered and he agreed.
The closed door to her studio/study was pointed out, same with the downstairs bathroom. She led him into the dining area, where a whitewashed timber table could easily seat their entire group of odd, non-biological family members, plus a few extras, with its offbeat chairs that were painted various muted colours that yet again somehow came together.
Murphy had taken over the kitchen, items scattered all over the solid wooden bench top. It was a combination of clean white cabinetry and open wooden shelves that were in the same vein as the benches. The wall that housed the stovetop was tiled a deep teal green. The butler's pantry door was wide open, revealing that it matched the adjoining kitchen.
"This wonderful kitchen is wasted on her, isn't it?" Murphy lamented when Bellamy complimented him on the wonderful aroma that permeated the air.
A quick glance at Clarke's pout had him laughing and agreeing.
With a mildly annoyed huff, Clarke led Bellamy out to the back porch and showed off the large backyard, lit by strings of festoon lights and soft recessed floor lights. He could see half was sectioned off into raised garden beds and what appeared to be a small greenhouse was located by the back fence next to a gardening shed.
"This is huge Clarke." Bellamy was both awed and horrified. "How do you look after it all?"
"The house, or the garden?" Her tone was jovial but her expression was serious.
"Both? Either?" He hadn't even seen upstairs.
"Gardening is therapeutic, I've found," she admitted with a hint of shyness Bellamy wasn't used to seeing. "Madi and I both like trying to grow things and a lot of it was already here when we moved in. The house, well, any opportunity to avoid cleaning it." She laughed at herself and indicated that what she was currently doing passed as an excuse to further avoid it.
"Not many people would have managed to get a place like this from someone they never met." He hoped that hadn't come out as him thinking she seemed ungrateful, it was plain as day that she appreciated what having this place had done for her and Madi. For good measure, to make sure she didn't misunderstand his tone, he grinned and added. "Looks like karma is in your favour. This place must have a lot of history to it."
"Yeah, you'd probably enjoy looking into the history of my family," Clarke spoke in a dry tone now. "Apparently there was this whole big thing about how the Polis Griffins and the Arkadia Griffins didn't get along. It's from my great grandfather's generation, but as far as I'm aware, Dad's branch of the family has been in Arkadia for more generations than that so how there ended up being Griffins in Polis they didn't get along with is a bit of a mystery."
And that mystery sure appealed to Bellamy. "I'll have to see if I can find anything sometime."
Before they could say anything further, Murphy called them in for dinner and there was a sudden flurry of motion where Clarke, Octavia and Madi lay out table settings, fetched drinks, and generally prepared for the meal. Bellamy was somehow left aside to watch on in horrified amazement for the few moments it took before he moved to help Murphy serve up the food.
Over a mouth-watering meal of lemon chicken, served with various roasted vegetables and a herb bread Bellamy couldn't believe Murphy had made from scratch, the small group chatted about their day, complained about rude people, and generally mundane things that somehow still took on a cheery note when Madi was the one relaying them.
The topic of Murphy and Emori's moving day the coming Sunday cropped up, and Clarke was baffled that Bellamy hadn't known it was so soon. The look on Murphy's face suggested that Bellamy and Echo had originally been left out of the plans, despite having offered their assistance, because it had predated Clarke and Bellamy being back in each other's lives. Funnily enough, Bellamy wasn't the least bit mad that Murphy had put Clarke first anymore, it was becoming more and more apparent just how much Murphy had been doing for her the last few years.
It was after dinner, when Madi had disappeared back upstairs, and Clarke and Octavia were finishing the washing up, even though Bellamy had tried to insist he should do it, that he was reminded of how badly his day had been going prior to arriving, and it unraveled from there.
Bellamy had made to stand, to take a turn fetching he and Murphy another drink each, when his knee had seized up and he'd landed himself back in his chair with a noise of pain.
"Your knee's playing up?" Murphy was immediately concerned, and the girls glanced over worriedly. "Want a painkiller?"
"No!" He had answered way too fast, punctuated by Clarke dropping a dripping plate back into the sink and spinning to face him.
"Good thing." Murphy chuckled, not noticing anything was amiss. "Clarke keeps all the meds hidden away somewhere."
Bellamy went tense, his eyes flicking to Clarke's own widened gaze, and the colour drained from both their faces. Somehow with this one simple interaction, she looked as though she had figured out his deepest shame.
Octavia picked up conversation with Murphy, changing the topic, but Bellamy couldn't seem to take his eyes off Clarke where she was quietly leaving the room to head out back.
A sick feeling in his gut, Bellamy glanced at his sister, seeing that she was intent on distracting Murphy, before making the decision to follow Clarke. He found her sitting on the porch steps, her chin resting on her raised knees, hugging her legs.
The step above her seemed like the best vantage point to still see some of her reactions without obviously watching her so he settled there, elbows on his thighs and fingers clenched together anxiously, and he waited.
"I just needed some air." Clarke offered tonelessly. "You didn't have to follow me."
"Seemed like a good idea given how you reacted." His tone was deceptively calm, even to his own ears. "You can ask you know."
"It isn't any of my business."
"Since we're trying to be something resembling friends again, I disagree." Bellamy pushed.
"It was the painkillers for your knee, right?"
"Yes." It shouldn't have surprised him that she could apply logic even knowing so few of the facts. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves. "They made all my pain go away and before I knew it I needed them for more than just my knee."
The sound of a sob caught in her throat before he watched her shoulders rise with a deep inhale. "How long were you relying on them?" He understood her implication in the word.
"Before I was willing to admit to myself that I had a problem? Around sixteen months." He was too ashamed to raise his eyes to look at her even when she let out a small gasp. "I thought I could kick it on my own and failed horribly. I was a nightmare to be around for a solid three months while I tried and failed by myself. Then O and I had that epic fight and she stopped talking to me. Miller helped me check into rehab right after. I had to take the next few months off work. Everyone thinks that detoxing is the worst part," he went on quietly, too nervous to stop talking now. "It takes a toll on your body but-"
"-the constant struggle to stay clean afterwards is the worst," she finished for him.
The blood drained from his face and dread took a seat on his chest. "How do you know that?" If she had had some kind of fight against an addiction on top of her PTSD, he wouldn't be able to handle it.
"My mum." Clarke glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "A bit over three years ago her partner called me at his wits' end because Mum had overdosed after just getting clean." She ran her hands tiredly over her face. "It's scary how many doctors are substance abusers and Mum had had a problem for years at that point. I didn't have to help her, I suppose, but seeing what she'd been reduced to..." she trailed off with a resigned sigh. She was likely imaging him like that now and it made him shudder. Most people thought they understood, but unless you experienced it first hand you couldn't.
"Clarke." Bellamy rested a hand on her shoulder and was relieved when she reciprocated by moving hers to rest on his knee.
"She stayed with us for a while and has managed to stay clean since." Clarke chuckled dryly. "We're actually on pretty good terms these days for the first time in over a decade, if you can believe it. I even went to her wedding when she got remarried last year." A fond smile peeked out briefly.
"There's hope for us all then." Bellamy smirked but the smile dropped off his face when their eyes met and her face fell. "Clarke?"
"I can't believe you tried to do it alone." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm not surprised really, but it isn't something that should be dealt with alone."
"What else could I do? After all our mum's issues I was too ashamed to tell O. Echo wasn't in the picture yet. And our friends are great but I didn't want to need any of them..." He trailed off, leaving it unsaid that she hadn't been there, that he couldn't allow himself to need someone the way he had needed her.
"I would have come." She told him fiercely, meeting his eyes with a hardened stare. "Even if you hated me, I would have come."
He believed her, and everything in him lightened just a little. "I never hated you," he told her, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the fact that he could still believe in her so easily. "But I hated how weak I was being, giving in to the addiction. Calling you after three years of silence would have been like giving in to a different weakness, especially if you hadn't answered."
"I can relate." The words were spoken so quietly as she turned her face away that he almost missed it, but the implications of the three words made him tense.
"Why's that Clarke?" He demanded.
She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. "I'm not sure either of us is ready for that conversation."
"Clarke." His free hand gripped hers where it still rested on his knee.
Her face carefully blank, Clarke took a moment to assess him. "You know I have PTSD. But even before my injury and discharge I was pretty...low. Jasper's death on Maya's anniversary brought forth a lot of feelings of being worthless that I had let go unchecked. Rehab wasn't going well, which was wholly my own fault. At my lowest point I had convinced myself that I was a cancer and that everyone was better off without me - that no one would really miss me."
Bile rose up the back of his throat when Bellamy realised where her confession was going and his body turned to ice, his hands beginning to shake uncontrollably.
"I had a gun, but that would have been too messy when I had pills left over from my surgery."
Bellamy was going to be sick, he was sure of it, as the world started tilting alarmingly.
"Just breathe Bellamy," Clarke put a cool hand to the back of his neck and pushed his head down between his knees, holding him there as her free hand began to massage a pressure point at his wrist and she calmly reminded him how to take deep breaths.
His sister and Lincoln hadn't been lying when they told him her bravery had changed. His brave princess had actually considered how to take her own life. "Finish the story please?" He requested from between his knees. She was alive beside him, but he was desperate to know if she had followed through.
"Are you sure?" There was obvious concern in her voice.
"Yes."
"Well, I knew how many pills would be required for an overdose, so one afternoon I gave in and took them,"
The wrecked sound that escaped his throat was horrible even in his ears.
"Right after I swallowed Madi called out to me, she would have let herself in like she always did, and I panicked. I hadn't thought about Madi. Even if there was no one else in the world who would miss me, even if I was damaged, she needed me, was growing reliant on me. So I made myself throw up and called Lincoln in hysterics. That's why he moved to Polis, because of me and I still feel guilty about it. He uprooted his entire life because he was scared I would do something foolish again. He was camped out on my couch for a month even though Octavia had just started her senior year of college and was still in Trikru."
Bellamy couldn't stand to hear the self-recrimination in her tone any longer and shifted to wrap his arms tightly around her, the side of his face resting against the back of her neck. A startled sob fell out of her as he squeezed her.
"I would have missed you," he choked out. "You have never been, nor will ever be, worthless," he spat the word that didn't belong in association with her. "And I still need you." His hold on her grew impossibly tighter. "If you ever think otherwise again, I won't forgive you."
Clarke wept, just fell apart in his arms and Bellamy kept his grip on her, rocking them the whole time, not even trying to stop the angry tears that leaked out of his own eyes.
He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. They were well and truly cried out by the time Clarke shifted in his arms.
"Will you promise to call me, if you ever need a place to go on a bad day?" She asked of him and he couldn't help but sigh. She had just told him something that would haunt him, he knew, for a long time to come, and she was still worrying about his issues first.
"Only if you promise the same."
She nodded, without hesitation and when he agreed, she suggested they go back inside, where it was warm and they couldn't see their breath. Even went so far as to help him up in case his knee gave out again.
Octavia was on the couch, TV on but eyes faraway, Madi still nowhere to be seen. She blinked herself back to attention when she caught sight of them. "All okay?" She wondered, a hesitancy surrounding her that Bellamy wasn't used to seeing.
"Peachy." Clarke's smile was wobbly, but it was genuine and Octavia visibly relaxed. "Murphy's gone home already. Madi's finished her homework but chatting with Ethan and has requested to not be disturbed. Take a seat, both of you, and watch Brooklyn Nine Nine with me, it'll cheer you both up."
Clarke pulled an ottoman from somewhere and ordered Bellamy to sit, placing said ottoman so he could rest his still throbbing knee, and Bellamy pulled her to sit between him and his sister, Octavia turning the volume up.
Somehow, despite the emotional upheaval of the day, or perhaps because of it, that was how Bellamy dozed off, feeling Clarke solid, warm and most importantly, alive beside him.
End Note: ...so this chapter went darker than originally intended, and I had tried to subtly hint in previous chapters...I hope it wasn't hard on anyone!