Clarke's face lit up in the very moment her phone dinged. She looked down at the notification, tucking her short, blonde hair behind her ear. Her thumbs glided across the keyboard on bottom half of her phone screen.

Don't you have a job? I'll be there when I get there.

Clarke sent her message to Raven and pressed her head against the yellow cab's window. It was cold, freezing even, and yet the coolness felt wonderful against her temple. She sighed, causing her breath to fog a portion of the window. Her eyes observed each snow covered building as they drove by as the memories flooded her mind with every one they passed.

The yellow cab stopped to a halt at the red light. Her eyes searched for the west corner of the intersection. More specifically, she searched for the familiar, orange glow of the Autozone. Its parking lot was empty, except for the blue Chevy pickup under the streetlight.

Bellamy's blue Chevy pickup.

Red tail lights beamed brightly through the exhaust fumes, and the glow from the red street lights reflected off the salted was no need for Clarke to look at her phone to know the time. The familiar silhouette of Bellamy Blake standing in front of the glass door gave it all away. By his appearance, she knew if she checked her phone, the time would read nearly ten o'clock.

When Clarke fled this town, he worked this second job just to put a roof over his and his sister's heads. Evidently, three years later, he was still the last to leave every night.

A green arrow appeared, and the cab inched cautiously across the icy roads. She could see it now: the Dropship Bar & Grill. The flickering, blue neon open sign grew closer as they near the parking lot.

The brakes came to a screeching to a halt, and Clarke searched through her brown tote for her wallet. She pulled out a wad of cash and passed it up to the cabbie who, in return, thanked the blonde.

Clarke opened the door and stepped out, shoving her hands further down into her pockets as if it would provide a better source of warmth. The appearance of her breath floated in the cold, Polis air as she took in the building before her.

The fall air was cool and crisp, and somehow, the parking lot was full despite the homecoming game taking place at the high school 4 miles away. Clarke's face lit up in the night when she saw the blue Chevy drive into the lot.

"I was beginning to think you blew me off for some football game."

Clarke walked forward and rested her arm on his downed window. Bellamy propped his head up on his elbow, and she noticed the faintest smudge of grease across his left brow.

"You know that's not my style, Princess," he smirked.

"What is your style?"

"How 'bout you jump in, and I'll show you."

Clarke was brought back to the present the moment her cab driver slammed his trunk shut. She waved in gratitude and extended the handle of her suitcase up before rolling it to the door.

She stepped through the door and stomps on the rug to knock off any snow on her boots. Her hands tugged the beanie from her head and the gloves from her hands before stuffing them in her coat pockets.

"You're late."

"Flight was delayed and so was my train."

"Excuses, excuses. Welcome home, Griffin. I like the pink tips, by the way."

The blonde smiled and wrapped her arms around her best friend. Despite not having seen each other since the day Clarke left, they managed to keep in touch regularly.

"I just got done with my shift. Wanna grab a bite to eat?"

"Always. I've been craving a Dropship burger since I booked my tickets."

"Liar! Dropship burger is the reason you booked the tickets."

"Come on. Let's get a table."

Clarke laughed and shook her head in denial. She grabbed the handle of her suitcase, pulling it closely behind her person and through the bar as they made their way to the table. The two easily found their places across from each other laughing and talking and filling each other in on what had happened within the last three years of their lives.

Raven was filled in on the Lexa and art school ordeals— the latter of which was still a secret. Quitting med school at UCLA and pursuing a degree in art was not something that would thrill Doctor Abigail Griffin. After all, being the daughter of the nation's foremost neurosurgeon meant that was Clarke was expected to follow in her mother's footsteps: the best university, the best program, the best hospital, the best everything. But it wasn't her dream. It was her mother's dream, and Raven understood that. Her dad understood. Lexa even understood, but her mother would never understand that.

"So Lexa— we're talking about her now?" Raven asked cautiously. Clarke nodded.

"Why not? She's clearly moved on, and I'm— I've moved on too. Point is— it doesn't matter that she cheated and left me for Costia. I am an adult, and I've moved on."

"Proud of you, babe, but still, if I ever see her, there will be some serious ass kicking."

"Wouldn't expect any less from you," Clarke smiled. She took another bite of her burger, her eyes wandering to the glowing light on the table, "You gonna tell me who's making your phone buzz?"

"You're gonna judge."

"I'm not gonna judge. I swear."

"Murphy."

"You mean Murphy Murphy?"

"What other Murphy do you know?"

"Fair point."

Raven bit into her burger, avoiding eye contact with Clarke who took a swig of her beer.

"So are you gonna tell me if you guys are like a thing? Or am I gonna have to pry it out of you?"

"No. We're a thing sometimes—," Raven raised her glass to her lips, mumbling into it, "in the night."

"So you're John Murphy's booty call?"

"I'm not his booty call. I just— It's new, okay? I don't really know what we are."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Do you like him?"

Ravens averted her eyes to anywhere other than Clarke.

"Hey, look, I'm not judging. Love who you want."

"I'm holding you to that because I didn't judge when you moved across the country after your Blake with benefits rejected you."

If Clarke's glare could kill, Raven would be six feet under.

"He's not why I moved."

"Hey, I'm only kidding. UCLA has the best med program. That will remain the official party line."

"Thank you. Speaking of, I saw he was still at the Autozone on 17."

"Yeah, he got a promotion about a year or two ago, and he's there full time now. Although, Murphy told me the other day he got into the police academy."

"Really? That's— that's good for him," She looked over at Raven, whose phone buzzed and lit up.

"Dammit. Sinclair said there's an issue back at the office, and your dad doesn't get in until tomorrow. Do you want to come with? I can drop you off at his house after?"

"No, it's okay. I can just get a cab to take me home. It's practically a sin to leave without finishing this burger."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Go fix things with that beautiful brain of yours. I'll catch you tomorrow."

Clarke remained alone at the booth. Harper brought over another beer to the table, and Clarke picked the remaining fries from Raven's plate.

"Stop!" She giggled, "This is the one diner in town, and you're gonna get us kicked out."

"Sounds like you're challenging me."

He held his stare as she continued to laugh. His devious smirk crept across his face while being revealed by the overhead light in the booth.

"No, Bellamy Blake, do not throw another fry!"

He threw it, despite Clarke's pleas, and it hit the local drunk sitting at the bar.

"I'm going to have to ask you two to stop throwing fries. You're disturbing customers."

"C'mon! Really? It's Old Man Olsen."

"We're sorry." Clarke said raising her voice above Bellamy's, "We're sorry, Mrs. Marge. We were just leaving, and it won't happen again."

"Thank you, Miss Griffin."

"Thank you, Miss Griffin," Bellamy childishly mimicked turning to Clarke. He placed some money on the check, and once he stood up, Clarke stepped over.

"See what you did? You're tarnishing my innocent, princess reputation."

"Princess, I tarnished your innocence long ago," he said whispering in her ear.

"That may be true, but my reputation is now at stake, Mr. Blake, and for that, I won't put out for a week," she whispered back.

"You take that it back."

"Make me," she bit her lip, turning to lead him to the diner door.

The ringing of the bell on the diner door brought her mind back to the present. Unable to tell if the flush on her cheeks was from her memory or her beer, Clarke decided to pull her wallet from her bag. She tossed the cash out on the table and stood from her booth.

"Excuse me, miss, but can I buy a pretty lady like you a drink before you leave?"

It seemed impossible to stifle her laugh in this moment, but she, by some miracle, succeeded and turned around to face the all too familiar voice behind her.

"Oh shit!"

The voice, of course, belonged to none other than Bellamy Blake who stepped back in shock, disbelief, and embarrassment.

"Clarke? What the hell are you doing here?"

A fit of laughter erupted from behind Bellamy, one of which belonged to John Murphy. He slapped his hand on Bellamy's shoulder.

"Good luck getting yourself out of this one, man. Good to see you, Clarke."

"Good to see you too, Murphy," she nodded before he walked away and over to the bar where Miller sat waiting. She crossed her arms and looked up at Bellamy.

"I- I just wasn't expecting to see you here, and you look so different. I mean, you're hair is so much shorter, and it's pink now? Well, part of it's pink, but it looks good. Makes you look older."

"You're saying I'm old?"

"No, no, of course not. I meant it in a good way as in more sophisticated."

"I know, Bellamy. I'm just messing with you."

"You're hilarious. What are you— what are you doing here?"

"I was here with Raven, but she had to leave. And now I'm about to leave."

"Well can I still buy you a drink? Catch up?"

"Rain check? I think I'm just gonna try to call a cab and call it a night."

"Don't do that. Let me give you a ride. Where are you staying? Raven's? Your dad's?"

"Really, Bellamy. It's fine. You just got here."

"Don't be stubborn, and let me just give you a ride. 'Tis the damn season or whatever."

"Dad's."

"This all?" He pointed to her suitcase. She nodded, reaching for it, but he stopped her, "I got it," he said.

"Thanks."

Clarke put her coat on and pulled out her beanie, gloves, and scarf, putting each accessory on. She grabbed her purse and followed Bellamy towards the door— something so small that felt so familiar, as if history were repeating itself. He stopped at the bar by Miller and Murphy, mumbling something about taking her home.

"Good to see you, guys," Clarke said pressing her lips into a soft smile.

"You too. Hey, Clarke?"

She turned to look back at Miller.

"We're all meeting up here tomorrow night for drinks. We'd love to see you."

"Sounds fun. I don't think I'll have much going on."

Clarke shivered as they stepped out into the cold, and somehow the heat she felt from her flushed cheeks burned through the cold. She prayed silently that Bellamy wouldn't notice, and if he did, well, she'd just blame it on alcohol in the beers she had with Raven.

"Here, go back inside while I pull my truck around. It's freezing, and I parked in the back."

"Bellamy, it's fine, really. I can endure a little cold weather."

He pressed her body against the passenger side of his pick up that was parked behind the diner. He nipped at her neck, making his way to her lips.

"Bellamy, people will see."

"What people? It's midnight on a Thursday, Princess, and we're the only ones out here. Old Man Olsen and Mrs. Marge are the only people inside, and the diner doesn't close until two. Nobody will see us. We've got some time."

His mouth found hers again, and his hand grazedher thigh and slipped under her short, blue floral dress. She moaned at his touch.

"You should really take back what you said to me earlier."

"I don't think I will."

"Then I don't think I can keep doing this," he said lowering his hand back to her thigh, and instantly, Clarke whined and begged as he teased her. "Clarke, if you don't want me to stop, then I think there's something you need to do."

"Bellamy, please."

"Uh uh, Princess, not until you say it."

"Fine, I take it back."

"Good girl," he said rewarding her, "now, on your knees."

The silence in the car ride to Clarke's childhood home was heavy. His eyes remained on the road, and she stared out the window. A good five minutes had passed before Clarke finally chalked up the courage to break the silence.

"Raven told me you got into the police academy. I think that's great, Bellamy."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I think it will be. I'm hoping it will help out with Mom's case or maybe keep her out of jail."

"How is she?"

"Not good. I managed to save up enough to put her in a treatment center in Richmond."

"And Octavia?"

"She's a sophomore at ODU now and still an independent handful."

"I wouldn't expect any different."

"How about you? How's med school, is it?"

"I quit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was finally starting to see that it was Mom's dream for me, and I just wasn't happy with it anymore. I haven't told her or Dad yet, but I changed my major before this semester. So you are now looking at an art major," Clarke announced, her face beaming with pride.

"I'm proud of you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She tilted her head back against the head rest and turned to look back at him. His lips were pressed together in a smile also. Their eyes had locked on one another, and in that moment, things felt as though they once had. As if she never left him, this town, and their friends three years ago without a single word.

But the clearing of Bellamy's throat brought her back to the harsh reality, and the silence thickened once again and persevered until they reached their destination. Bellamy cut his engine off after pulling into the driveway, and she shivered, preparing herself for the blizzard outside the car. She reached down for her purse and felt around for the door latch.

"Clarke, wait, I-," his voice pierced through the silence, and he reached out to grab her upper arm. She looked back over her should at him, ready for whatever he was needing to tell her.

"I'm glad you're back in town."

That earned a soft smile from her, of course. She was glad to be back, and after expecting her return to be far worse, she was glad it wasn't.

"Me too. I think."

"How long are you here for?"

"I fly out of DC late Sunday afternoon, but my train leaves Staunton that morning."

"Right, I wondered with Christmas being over the weekend."

Once again, the unfamiliar awkwardness lingered in the air.

"Yeah," Clarke whispered into the silence, "When does your sister get in?"

"No. She's with her boyfriend and his family in Virginia Beach."

"I'm surprised you let her."

"I didn't. She called me last night and rambled on about how I should let her be her own person and independence, and then she told me she's not coming home."

"That sounds more like it."

"Yeah."

"Bellamy, you shouldn't have to spend Christmas alone. No one should."

"It's just another day on a calendar Clarke. I'll probably just watch a documentary or something then head over to the Dropship."

"No, you should come over. You're coming in the morning."

"Clarke, I'll be fine."

"Please, Bell."

There it was. Two words that would have him running into a burning building if she dare asked. Two words he could never ignore. The two words he'd forgotten how much he missed.

"I'll think about it."

They took their time exiting the car, and as Clarke walks around the front of the truck, she noticed the missed calls and notifications. She stopped in her place, and her face fell.

Not coming home…emergency liver transplant xo

Sorry kiddo. My flight's been cancelled. All flights out of JFK are grounded from the blizzard. Looks like I might not make it home in time. I'll let you know if things change in the morning. Glad you're home.

"Everything okay?"

"Surprise, surprise. Mom's not going to make her flight. She got pulled into an emergency liver transplant." She waved her phone around in the darkness before continuing to walk with Bellamy to the front steps of her empty, childhood home.

"I'm sorry, Clarke. She can't come after?"

"Not if it's a twelve hour operation, and to top it all off, all flights out of JFK are cancelled so Dad may not make it in either."

"Are you okay?"

"It's not the first time she's bailed on Christmas, and Dad - well, it's out of his control. I can't blame him."

"Clarke," he whispered in a comforting tone. He understood her frustration. While his mother's absences weren't attributed to saving lives, nonetheless, she was still absent.

"I'm over it. Clearly seeing her own daughter for the first time in three years doesn't mean anything to her at all."

She unlocked the front door.

"What time?"

"What?"

"What time should I come over?"

"Bellamy-"

"You shouldn't spend Christmas alone, Bellamy. No one should spend Christmas alone, Bellamy," he mimicked in an annoying, childish voice.

But then Clarke smiled, laughed even, and he was instantly reminded of what it was like to feel his heart pounding in the happiest way. As if nothing else mattered, and as if he forgot all the bitterness he felt towards her when she left him behind without warning.

Clarke threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. She stepped back looking up into his eyes. Her heart raced, and his did too. Clarke stood on her tip toes to reach him, and he leaned down, their lips locking.

"Princess," he moaned against her lips. Her heart swooned at that nickname, "Clarke." He pulled back and looked away.

"Bell," she whispered in fear of rejection once more. "Just this weekend. It doesn't have to mean anything," she assured. "I just don't want to be alone."

He nodded, whispering, "Okay."

Clarke took his hand, leading him inside the front door. He set her bags down in the foyer and looked around.

"You know. I don't think I've ever been through the front door, and I could probably count with my hand just how many times I've been downstairs."

"That's because you were always climbing into my window and sneaking in."

"You're not wrong."

"Come on"