That weekend, Clarke again postponed making any decisions about her personal goal, and instead spent all her free time looking for a way to help Octavia Blake.

For a hot second, she considered trying to work around Kane, but quickly realized it wouldn't be feasible. Marcus was Octavia's doctor, and Clarke would at least have to start with him. When she got the expected negative response, that'd be the time to get creative.

But as it turned out, that wasn't what happened at all.

She arrived at the hospital early on Monday and was lucky enough to catch Marcus at his desk between surgeries. He squinted when he caught sight of her in the doorway.

"Another visit so soon? Are we still talking about Octavia Blake?"

"How'd you know?"

His smile was wry. "Let's just call it a guess. Things are going well, if that's what you were wondering," he said, as she closed the door and slipped into the seat opposite. "In fact, the arm is healing so well that I've been thinking of getting her started early on physical therapy."

"That's great." Clarke took a deep breath, knowing that she was on shaky ethical grounds here, poking her nose into the treatment of someone who wasn't her patient. "But what I really wanted to ask you about was… possible reconstructive surgery on her face."

He sighed. "Clarke…"

"No, I know I don't have the right to be asking you about this, Marcus, and maybe I should just… step back. But somehow I just…I just can't. She's so young, her whole life is ahead of her, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try to help her."

"I'm not concerned about protocol here, Clarke, believe me. I'm just afraid you'll end up banging your head against a very thick wall."

"But…"

"Look. After our last conversation, I looked into the situation myself. As I expected, there isn't a surgeon on staff here who'd even be willing to take on such a complex and delicate surgery. And even if there were someone, there's still the matter of who'd pay for it. I talked to the financial office, and as I suspected, while Octavia might qualify for reduced fees, the surgery itself does not."

Clarke couldn't help protesting hotly. "It just seems so unfair! Aren't there foundations or... or charitable organizations that might be willing to foot the bill? I was poking around on the internet and I found a lot of them that do that kind of thing. I mean, I know Octavia isn't a kid with a birth defect, but she's still pretty young and might qualify."

Kane shrugged. "Perhaps. But if you don't have the right surgeon, none of that will matter."

She saw him hesitate then.

"What is it, Marcus?"

"Well, I just wondered… have you considered contacting your mother to see if she'd be willing to take it on? Perhaps even donate her services? Maybe, if the request came from you personally… "

Clarke frowned. "My mother?"

Kane looked surprised. "Are you not aware that Dr. Abby Griffin is now the preeminent facial reconstructive surgeon in this part of the country?"

Clarke felt like a fool. She'd spent so much time avoiding her mother, and her mother's brand of doctoring, that she never even knew…

And then something in Kane's face forced the question out of her.

"Do you know my mother?"

He nodded slowly. "It's been years, but, yes, we went to medical school together. Of course, she was already with Jake then. Your father… he was a great guy, Clarke. I remember him well."

Revelation after revelation! Marcus knew both her parents. Had actually gone to med school with her mother.

Too bad she didn't have time to dwell on any of that now.

She slid out of the chair. "Thanks for giving me a place to start, Marcus. I'll get back to you."

Since she still had some time before her shift began, as soon as she got back to her office Clarke hurriedly placed a call to her mother. As expected, she got Abby's voice mail, but her call was returned only minutes later.

"Clarke! Is something wrong?"

She could hardly be surprised at the concern in Abby's voice. They hadn't spoken in months, and even then it was her mother who'd initiated the call. As usual.

"I'm fine, Mom. Honestly. I didn't actually call about… myself."

"Oh?"

"No. I called to ask a favor. A… professional favor."

After the tiniest of hesitations, Abby said, "How can I help?"

As succinctly as possible, Clarke explained Octavia Blake's situation, ending with the fact that she was not only asking her mother to do the surgery, she was also asking her to waive her fee.

"You must do that sometimes," Clarke said, having no idea if that were really true.

"I do. More often than you might imagine. Although this situation is a little… different." She hesitated. "Is this girl… someone special to you?"

Is she your lover? Clarke knew that was what she was really asking. Not that her mother had ever had any problem with her sexuality. She just liked to know… everything. But it was classic Abby that she hadn't asked her directly.

"Not in the way you might be thinking," Clarke said flatly. "I've just gotten to know… her family a little and I'm trying to find a way to help them… her… out."

She could hear Abby's soft sigh on the other end of the line.

"Okay, Clarke. Have Marcus Kane send me her file. I'll look it over and get back to you as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Mom. I… appreciate you even considering this."

Clarke hung up, releasing the breath she'd been holding. So far, so good.

Near the end of the day, Abby called and agreed to do the surgery and to waive her fee. If Clarke felt a tiny sliver of guilt that she was using her fractured relationship with her mother for her own ends, she suppressed it immediately. This was for a good cause.

"I'm not sure if you understand that my waiving my own fee doesn't mean everyone else won't have to be paid, Clarke. I'll need at least two other surgeons, an anesthesiologist, and the surgical nurses. And then the hospital will charge for the OR, and equipment, and… everything else."

"I do get that, Mom. I'll… figure it out. Look… I've got to go. But I'll see you, uh, whenever we can get this set up. And, Mom, thanks so much. I really mean that."

"I know you do, Clarke," Abby said on a sigh. "And when I get there, maybe I'll figure out why this means so much to you."

As soon as she had a chance, Clarke rushed upstairs to find an exhausted Marcus Kane, still in his office.

"Mom said she'll do it!" she said, feeling a momentary burst of triumph. "But she also mentioned needing other surgeons…"

When she let the sentence trail off, Kane smiled knowingly.

"If the eminent Dr. Abby Griffin has agreed to donate her services, I can hardly do less. But we'll still need at least one more surgeon, Clarke," he hastened to add when he saw her broad relieved smile.

Clarke nodded. "Working on it," she said, before bouncing out the door.

Her half-formed plan for acquiring additional help was immediately put on hold when she turned a corner and saw Bellamy Blake coming towards her from his sister's room at the other end of the hallway,

Both stopped in their tracks, and a smile lit Bellamy's face.

As he approached, Clarke found herself unable to temper the rapid increase in her pulse rate, or the happy smile that she could feel stretching across her face.

"Clarke." His smile became warmer as he came to a halt a couple of feet away from her.

She suddenly couldn't wait to deliver her good news.

"Got a few minutes?"

"For you… always." He grinned. "Since it's dinnertime, what say we meander down to our favorite gourmet restaurant?"

"Great idea," she said, far too enthusiastically. And had to forcibly remind herself once again that Bellamy Blake was a friendly acquaintance. Someone she was trying to help. Nothing more.

They ate quickly, and Clarke barely let him finish his meal before the words simply burst out of her.

"So I've found a surgeon who'll do Octavia's surgery… and won't charge."

"That's fantastic! And thank god! O's finally realized the extent of the damage to her face, and she's been pretty down the past few days. So this will mean… everything. Can I tell her?"

"Not quite yet. Getting the surgeon lined up is only half the battle," she explained, never mentioning that the surgeon was, in fact, her own mother. "I also need to get the hospital to agree. Or find another way to pay. I'm still… working on that."

Bellamy nodded.

"I appreciate everything you're trying to do, Clarke." He hesitated. "Uh, look, I'm coming up on a pretty busy time at school so I might not be around the hospital as much. Could I maybe… give you my number? In case you have news?"

"Sure. And… why don't you take mine?"

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and as he typed his digits into her phone and then called himself, Clarke felt the first tendrils of panic rising. What the hell was she doing exchanging personal phone numbers with this man? Theirs was a professional relationship, no matter how friendly he seemed, how admirable she found him.

Or how attractive.

She rose suddenly, grabbing her phone from the table, the abrupt movement clearly startling him.

"Sorry, Bellamy, I've got some… things to finish up. But I'll let you know what's happening."

"Right," he said. "Sorry to take up so much of your time. And… thanks for the good news."

Clarke nodded briskly. "Glad to help."

And then she was scurrying away, feeling like a fool. After at least a dozen sexual partners, and a fair number of significant others, why did she find this one man so unsettling?

XXXXXXXXX

Clarke tried hard. She really did. Her personal quest had for now been virtually abandoned in favor of working on Octavia's case. Her first priority had been to find a third surgeon who was willing to donate their services, and at first she'd been confident she could make that happen.

"You've deigned to visit my office? That's a surprise," were the first words out of Finn Collins's mouth when she knocked on his door jamb a couple of days after speaking with Abby.

Not exactly a promising start, she thought, metaphorically gritting her teeth. But as much as Clarke might not like to admit it, Finn was the best young surgeon on Kane's team, so she plastered a smile on her face and made her pitch.

"Do you remember Octavia Blake? Motorcycle accident with facial damage?"

He nodded. "I don't forget my patients, Clarke. Especially that one, since you've shown such an interest in her for weeks now."

"Right. Well, uh, my mother has agreed to do her facial reconstruction…"

His face lit with interest.

"Really? The eminent Dr. Abby Griffin is coming here? I'd actually pay to assist in one of her surgeries…"

She smiled happily.

"That's great! Mom is actually waiving her fee, Finn, and so is Marcus, so if you feel the same way, then we have a complete team. I mean… you wouldn't have to pay, of course, just not be paid yourself."

Finn's eyes narrowed. "You must be kidding, Clarke. That was just a… a figure of speech. Maybe Kane and your mom can afford to work for free but I'm still paying off school loans, so I'm not waiving anything. I mean, of course I'd like to be part of that surgical team but someone's going to have to pay my bill."

He sat back, arms folded across his chest, staring at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Finn… there's no way Octavia Blake can afford to pay the full cost of that surgery. Don't you see yourself doing pro bono work occasionally?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. For a kid or something. But this girl is no kid and her injuries are her own fault." He shook his head. "So forget it."

Clarke stared at him. "How can you be so fucking… judgmental?"

"And how can you be such a sucker? It cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars and lot of fucking hard work to get to where I am, so you'll excuse me if I expect some payback. So, sorry, but I'm not falling for some sob story."

Clarke shook her head in disbelief. If she'd ever wondered about her decision to break up with Finn Collins, his utter lack of compassion confirmed that she'd made the right choice.

She sighed. "Thanks for nothing."

Finn just smirked. "I'm still available for the surgical team," he said, adding insult to injury.

Her lip curled in derision. "I'll keep that in mind."

As it turned out, Clarke's failure with Finn Collins was only the first of many.

She eventually abandoned her search for another pro bono surgeon, focusing instead on finding outside funding, beginning with the Ark City General financial offices. But a trip there — and a subsequent one to the office of the medical director — proved fruitless.

"I think we've done all we can for Ms. Blake," Director Jaha told her very firmly. "I'm afraid we just don't have the resources to offer additional financial waivers."

Clarke vowed to keep looking, using her personal contacts as well as scouring the internet for potential funding sources. But no matter which health foundation or charitable organization she contacted, she got the same answer: Octavia Blake was not their target demographic. She was an adult. Her injuries weren't life-threatening. Worse still, the surgery itself was considered "cosmetic."

And each time she heard that last response she had the same reaction: rage that the outward appearance of a young woman could be so cavalierly dismissed.

Clarke hadn't run into Bellamy lately, and for that she was mostly relieved, since she'd made no progress on Octavia's surgery. For a while, she was afraid he might call her for an update, but when he didn't she told herself that was a good thing. He didn't need to know how discouraged she was.

After several weeks on the surgical floor, Octavia had finally been moved to the hospital's rehabilitation center. When Kane told Clarke he was afraid the girl was depressed, Clarke knew it was past time she paid her another visit.

She found Octavia in the rehab room being unsuccessfully cajoled by one of Clarke's favorite physical therapists.

"Hi, Lincoln," she said, greeting him with a smile before turning toward his patient. "How's it going, Octavia?"

"Well, if it isn't Sexy Dr. Clarke! Seen my big brother lately? He doesn't bother to come around here much anymore."

Lincoln frowned. "Uh… did you forget your brother was here yesterday, Octavia? Stayed almost an hour."

She sniffed. "Didn't seem like that long to me."

Clarke just managed not to roll her eyes. "No, I haven't seen Bellamy lately, Octavia. I came by to see how you're doing."

"Whoa! He must be losing his touch." Octavia smirked, determined to steer the conversation back to Clarke, and away from herself and her imperfect body.

Seeing her, Clarke could easily understand why she had no interest in cooperating with Lincoln. Why she was depressed. And why she didn't want to talk about it.

The beautiful girl in Bellamy's picture now had a face full of scars, a misshapen nose, and cheekbones that jutted out at odd angles. Only the fierce green eyes were the same, and they seemed to shimmer with some emotion that was half anger and half something else.

Fear, perhaps.

Clarke worked hard not to let her pity show.

"You've got the best guy in the whole department, Octavia," she said. "Lincoln really knows what he's doing."

But she might as well have saved her breath.

"I'm kinda surprised Bellamy hasn't been calling," Octavia declared, continuing that line of conversation exactly like Clarke hadn't spoken. "He seemed really into you…"

"So is Octavia a good patient?" Clarke interrupted, turning toward Lincoln in desperation.

"I've seen better," he huffed, his smile wry. "Maybe she could learn how to follow directions. Or even just pretend like she gives a damn."

Clarke caught the quick look that Octavia gave Lincoln, and then the blush that rose across those misshapen cheekbones. And in that instant she understood that the once-beautiful and formerly-confident girl had developed a painful crush on her physical therapist.

Oh, god! As if things weren't hard enough for Octavia. Clarke knew Lincoln would treat her gently, but still…

Octavia caught her eye then, and when a look of panic crossed her face, Clarke knew Octavia realized she'd discovered her secret.

A quick flash of insight told her that her own presence was just making things worse.

"So, hey, I've gotta go," she said quickly. "But I'm glad to see you're into the rehab phase, Octavia. You listen to this guy. He's the best there is."

As she turned to leave, Octavia called after her, cheeky as ever, "I'll tell my brother you said hello."

"You do that," Clarke said, pausing to throw a brief glance over her shoulder.

For an instant their eyes caught, and a look of understanding passed between the two women. There might be secrets, but if there were, they would not be spoken of.

After her visit with Octavia, Clarke redoubled her efforts to get the girl the surgery she needed, but she was no more successful in resolving that problem than she had been at finding the right sperm donor for her own child.

There was some irony there, she thought, as she slid into bed one night after a particularly grueling — and fruitless — day.

Octavia Blake needed money — and a great deal of it — to pay for her surgery, but every day it became clearer that she had no way to get it.

Whereas thanks to her grandfather, Clarke herself had plenty of money, but she'd eventually come to realize that her problem was never going to be resolved by just throwing cash at it.

Life really could be so unfair.

If she wasn't trying to find some phantom "perfect biological father" — if instead her problem was that she needed specialized surgery, or some other unusual and expensive medical treatment — she'd have no problem at all because she'd just use all that lovely money to pay for it herself.

She'd been turning her body to shut off the bedside lamp, but her hand stilled suddenly in mid-air.

She'd just pay for it herself.

Clarke fell back onto the pillows with a gasp. How the hell could she have been so stupid?

XXXXXXXXXX

She called him early the next morning, punching in the number she'd gotten weeks earlier but had never once used.

"Clarke! So great to hear from you." His voice was warm and friendly. "I've… been thinking about you a lot..."

"Bellamy!" She broke in quickly, before he could shift the conversation to a place she knew it shouldn't go. "Can you, uh, come by my office sometime today?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He seemed surprised by her abruptness. "Is this about…"

"I'll… tell you everything when you get here."

She worked hard at keeping her voice pleasantly upbeat, at not letting the nerves seep through. She was determined that Bellamy should see the whole thing as… nothing special. Nothing unusual.

That's why she wanted them to meet in her office, where she could feel her most… professional.

"Okay," he said. "I was going to visit Octavia after school today anyway, but I'll come by to see you first."

"Good, see you then." She hung up before he could ask any more questions.

So she had until mid-afternoon to figure out how make it work.

As the day wore on, Clarke's mood swung wildly between confidence and dread. When it had popped into her head the night before, the whole thing had seemed so logical, so… reasonable. The perfect solution. But in the cold light of day, she understood there was at least a chance that… someone else might not see it that way.

By the time Bellamy knocked on her door at 3:30 that afternoon, Clarke was a bundle of nerves.

"Come in."

She hoped to god he hadn't heard the crack in her voice.

Clarke hadn't seen Bellamy Blake in weeks, and somehow she'd convinced herself that whenever she saw him again her crazy attraction to him would have magically disappeared. Or at the very least, diminished.

That turned out to be laughably far from the truth.

She'd stood when she heard his knock, as though her upright posture might be a kind of shield to somehow blunt his effect on her. But seated or standing… it made no difference. As soon as Bellamy walked through the door, his skin flushed from the crisp winter air, the breath-taking smile on his face, her pulse began to race the same way it always did.

"Have a seat," she said briskly, indicating the chair opposite. She reseated herself, pulling her professional demeanor around her like a cloak, hoping it would mask her nerves.

He nodded, sliding into the chair with natural grace.

"I've been hoping all day that this was good news," he said, the smile becoming smaller, but at the same time warmer, and more personal.

"It is," she assured him, smiling herself.

Maybe there was no need for concern. Maybe all he'd care about was that Octavia was getting the surgery, and he wouldn't give a damn about how.

She took a deep breath and forged ahead.

"So, I… believe I've found a way to get Octavia her surgery…"

Bellamy expelled a harsh breath as his eyes flickered shut for a brief moment.

"Thank god! I just… I couldn't see how she'd ever be able to move on with her life otherwise. So…" he peered at her curiously, "how'd you work this miracle?"

"Oh. Well, to begin with, my mother is the go-to surgeon for this kind of surgery…"

She knew she'd have had to tell him eventually. When Abby arrived, Clarke would hardly be able to pretend they weren't related.

He gave a little start. "Wait! Your mother is the surgeon you told me about? The doctor who isn't going to charge?"

"That's right." Clarke hurried on. "Facial reconstruction is her specialty, and she, uh, she waives her fee all the time…"

He frowned. "All the time? Really?"

She shrugged lightly. "So… maybe not all the time, but in, um, certain circumstances…"

Deep furrows appeared across his brow. "And Octavia's circumstance qualifies?"

"Uh… well, when I told her about Octavia…"

"What?" Bellamy's smile was now completely gone, and he'd begun to look unhappy.

"So… what you mean is that you asked your mother to do Octavia's surgery for free." It was a statement, not a question. "You really shouldn't have done that, Clarke."

"Yes, I should! Octavia deserves to get… put back together. And - and you deserve not to have to worry about her for the rest of your life!"

She sighed, making a determined effort to get the conversation back on track. "I didn't mind asking her, Bellamy, really. And she's agreed, so that's the end of it."

He expelled a harsh breath and nodded briskly, which seemed to signal his decision to simply accept the gesture.

"Okay… well… that's very kind of Dr. Griffin. I'll — we'll both — definitely make sure to thank… your mother. But I know that can't be everything. There must be other costs…"

"There are. But, uh, Marcus… that is, Dr. Kane… has agreed to assist Mom and to also waive his fee…"

"Why the hell would he do that?" The question was instantaneous.

Clarke hurried to explain. "He's, uh, an old friend of my mother's, and when he heard she was going to do the surgery, he just wanted to help."

Bellamy nodded. "Yeah, okay. O's his patient, so I suppose maybe that makes sense. So," he frowned, "then you got the hospital to waive the rest of the costs?"

Clarke's lips pressed together. "No."

Bellamy blinked in surprise. "No? So… one of those foundations is paying? There always seems to be one willing to cover that kind of stuff."

Clarke gave evasion one last shot.

"Uh, it's not exactly a foundation, Bellamy. More like… a trust."

The furrowed brow was back. "A trust? What kind of trust?"

She felt an inward surge of frustration. Why did he have keep asking about the details? Why couldn't he just accept his… Octavia's… good fortune?

"One that has a lot of… latitude about how the money gets spent," she said casually. "So there's not going to be any problem at all funding Octavia's surgery…"

"Great. And what's the name of this trust?" His direct question cut right through her bullshit.

Clarke wondered why the hell she'd ever thought that Bellamy Blake, an educated man whose very job required him to sift through facts to find the kernel of truth, could be fobbed off by her vague generalities.

She sighed softly. "It's called… the Griffin Family Trust."

Bellamy's face went completely blank. Tension seemed to radiate from him, pulling his body taut, and his shoulders stiffened as he slid to the edge of the seat.

"And who's the trustee of this… Griffin Family Trust?"

Clarke raised her chin and looked him square in the eye.

"I am," she said quietly. "It's a trust fund I inherited from my grandfather, but… I'm the sole trustee."

A thick silence settled around them, and Bellamy's face took on an expression she'd never seen there before.

"I know we haven't known each other long," he said finally, biting off every word, "but still, I thought you knew me better than that, Clarke. Better than thinking I'd ever take that kind of gift."

He sprang from his seat, the chair rolling backwards from the sudden movement. His voice rose, too, becoming harsh.

"Especially from you! With your inherited money and your world-famous surgeon mother. Did you think they somehow gave you the right to take over my dysfunctional life? Swoop in and fix everything that's wrong with it?"

Clarke could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, and she rose from her own seat, rushing around the desk, eager to explain. Hating to have to defend herself but desperate to have him understand.

"No, Bellamy, of course not! I just… I saw a need and I wanted to help." She took a quick breath. "And besides, I'm doing this for Octavia, not for you."

"But I'm the one who takes care of Octavia. I already told you. She's my sister, my responsibility, not someone you get to play Lady Bountiful for. Especially when you know damn well I'd never be able to pay you back!"

"But the money… it's just sitting there doing nothing! This way, it would do some good. And there's no question of you paying me back."

"The hell there isn't! We may not be in your tax bracket but we don't take handouts!"

As they stared at each other, the air thick with tension, Clarke began to feel increasingly helpless. How the hell had it gone so terribly wrong? She struggled to find a way to make Bellamy understand that she didn't look down on him, or think herself better in any way. That on the contrary, she very much admired him.

"Just think of it like a… a favor, Bellamy. And, uh, maybe sometime you'd be able to do me a favor."

She fumbled desperately for the right words, the ones that would make him understand that of course she thought of them as equals.

Bellamy snorted in disbelief. Though he topped her by no more than six inches, with his broad shoulders and heavy torso, it suddenly felt like he was towering over her.

"I could do something for you? What in the hell could I ever do for you that could match this… this obscene handout? What could I do that you, with all your wealth and prestige — with your perfect little life — couldn't already do for yourself?"

Clarke stared at him, anger beginning to bubble through her at his smug assumptions about her life.

"What the hell makes you think you know everything about me? Why are you so sure my life is so perfect that I could never use your help?"

"Because I'm not stupid enough to think there's anything I could ever do for you that you couldn't just buy for yourself with all your buckets of money!"

Clarke stared up at him, aghast. Was that how he saw her? As just… defined by her money? Not like a real person, with real problems and… and… disappointments?

And before she could stop them, the words just started spilling out of her.

"You want to hear about why my life isn't perfect, Bellamy? About how I've been frustrated for so damn long because the one thing I want desperately I can't find a way to make happen? You want to hear about how you could help me out with that? About the favor you could maybe do for me? Well, here it is. You can be my damn sperm donor so I can finally have a baby!"

All the air seemed to whoosh out of the room then, and all Clarke could hear were the echoes of her words and her own harsh breaths.

Bellamy stared at her, open-mouthed.

"I can do what?"

Like he hadn't quite understood. Like maybe she'd been speaking another language.

Clarke stood there, heart beating out of her chest, astounded that she could have made such a suggestion, but having no way to take it back. And in the very next second she wondered if she even wanted to take it back. Wondered if maybe it was the solution she'd been searching for.

But Bellamy was still staring at her blankly.

Rigid with embarrassment, she forced herself to explain.

"Look, I… I've wanted to have a child for a really long time, but I finally figured out awhile back that no one was going to come along and… and sweep me off my feet. So if I wanted a child I'd have to make it happen… another way." She rushed on. "I didn't… I'd never even considered… asking you for this, Bellamy, but… maybe it makes sense. Yeah, I know we don't really know each other very well, but… that could be a good thing. If you agreed to do… this… then we'd never have to see each other again…"

Her voice trailed off then, and she stood there, heart racing, willing him to understand.

For a long moment Bellamy stared down at her in silence, and when he finally spoke his voice was raspy with some emotion she couldn't quite identify.

"And why the fuck would you want my sperm? What the hell makes me so special?"

Her answer was immediate.

"It's because I can tell you're a good person! I know how you sacrificed for your sister for all those years. I see how you treat her now."

She expelled a harsh breath, struggling to find a way to make him see.

"The thing is…even after I finally decided to use donated sperm, I've never been able to just… go for it. Because there'd never be a way to really know if my baby's father was a decent human being. But that wouldn't be the case with you. I already know what a-a… fine person you are."

She searched his face in vain for some sign that he'd understood, but instead his entire being seemed to shutter and close off.

"So… is this your price for helping my sister, then?" he asked finally, his voice tight, the words clipped and harsh. "You want to… buy a child from me?"

"What? No! Absolutely not! One thing has nothing to do with the other…"

But Bellamy was done listening. He shook his head and gazed at her with quiet contempt.

"Lady, you are just fucking nuts."

And before she could utter another word, before she could tell him once again that of course that wasn't what she'd meant at all, Bellamy Blake had turned on his heel, yanked open the door, and fled into the corridor.

While Clarke was left standing in the middle of her office, shaking from head to toe.