It had been a blow for Clarke to realize that their mission was no longer just a matter of convincing Becca Franko that her ALIE computer program presented a grave danger to the Earth and all its peoples. Because… how were they to convince her of anything at all if they couldn't first find her?
Not that Clarke was about to give up. She hadn't given up on freeing her friends from Mount Weather or the City of Light. Or on finding a way for them to survive praimfaya. So she sure as hell wasn't giving up now — not when the stakes for all of humanity were so enormously high.
Besides, after facing down murderous vampire cults and out-of-control computer programs, how hard could it possibly be to locate one very well-known scientist?
She and Bellamy spent their first week in the 21st century combing through every piece of data they'd brought with them, only to find that there'd been surprisingly little written about Becca other than what was generally known. She'd received accolades and awards for her work on blood types. Although Clarke doubted that many in the scientific community understood exactly why the eminent Dr. Franko had spent so much of her career researching human blood.
At least not in the profoundly personal way that Clarke understood it.
When they finally became frustrated at the lack of useful information in their data banks, they turned to the Arlington Public Library, convinced that surely there'd be additional information about such a prominent local scientist. But as it turned out… not so much.
In the end, it took them the better part of another week to discover their first real clue.
They'd always known, of course, that Becca's house and lab were located on an island, but it could have been any one of the hundreds of islands that dotted the mid-Atlantic coastline. But then Bellamy came across a little-reported interview with Becca that contained a snippet of information that narrowed the possibilities considerably.
"Hey, listen to this, Clarke."
She could hear the excitement in his voice as he read from the article in the Delmarva Monthly.
"'After winning the Nobel Prize in medicine for her work on human blood, Dr. Becca Franko was queried about her latest project. The notoriously tight-lipped scientist gave little away about her current work but assured the interviewer that she enjoyed working in the Chesapeake area.'"
He looked up, smiling happily. "Don't you see, Clarke? Becca's island has to be somewhere in Chesapeake Bay."
Eyes bright with optimism, they located a map of Chesapeake Bay, only to find that there were some 273 separate islands in the 200-mile-long bay, many of them unnamed and/or privately- owned. But it was still enough information for Bellamy, who was sick of being confined indoors and was determined to start the physical search in earnest.
"I'll find out where we can rent a boat and we can go out in the bay and look around."
But Clarke wasn't so sure.
"I don't know, Bellamy. It's a huge area."
"Yeah, I don't care. If we don't start looking, we'll never find her."
Clarke finally agreed, and after extracting more of Gabriel's cash from the safe, they set about renting a small motorboat and learning how to operate it. Clarke wasn't too surprised to find that Bellamy was more adept at it, so he became the driver and she the navigator.
The next day, they began their search for an island in the Chesapeake that was secluded enough for a reclusive scientist, but which also contained a satellite tower. What they hadn't counted on was the proliferation of communication towers that had sprung up in the 21st century, especially on remote islands where they weren't likely to "bother" anyone.
After four days of unsuccessful island-hopping barely made a dent in the total, Clarke knew they needed to figure out a way to narrow the parameters. That evening, she suggested to Bellamy that they stop the island search until they had more information.
"What the hell, you just want to give up?" he snapped, his tone just on the edge of anger.
"Of course I don't want to give up! How could you even think that? But what we're doing is too… random. Too haphazard. There're almost 300 islands out there and in four days we've managed to check out how many? Nineteen or twenty? And those were all close by! At this rate, we'll never find Becca in time to get to our real mission! And… pretty soon everyone else'll be here, too…"
How could he not see how pointless it was to continue as they had been?
"Maybe the others can help…"
"No!" If there was one thing Clarke was sure of, it was that they needed to at least find Becca before the rest of them arrived. While things were still more or less within their control.
Before the chaos descended.
"We need to do this part ourselves, Bellamy."
"How?" he shot back, nearly shouting by now. "How are we going to do it if we just… stop looking?"
"I don't know," she wailed in frustration. "But I'll… think of something…"
"Yeah? Well, while you're doing your heavy thinking, I'm gonna be out on the water. Because I can't sit around doing fucking nothing!"
Clarke sighed, understanding him perfectly. Even after all the years of training himself to use his head, when Bellamy was presented with a problem his first instinct was always to take some kind of physical action. And to double down on that action rather than stop when it failed to produce immediate results.
So this was just…Bellamy being Bellamy, and she knew she shouldn't take their disagreement personally. Still, these were the first harsh words they'd exchanged in a very long time, and Clarke found it… painful.
There was little conversation that evening. Their argument felt like a physical wall between them, and for the first time since they'd moved into Gabriel's condo, Clarke and Bellamy went to bed without a goodnight hug.
She knew it was stupid, but Clarke looked forward to that nightly ritual, however brief the physical contact. Wary of giving herself away, she ordinarily avoided Bellamy's touch. But somehow it felt safe to let herself indulge in that simple nightly embrace. It told her that no matter what, Bellamy would always be her best friend.
So she had a restless night… but was still up early making pancakes for breakfast. Hoping, she supposed, that the gesture would somehow begin to break down the wall between them.
And even as she measured the flour and tossed in the eggs, she knew how pathetic that was.
Still, Bellamy ate them, even if he did so in near silence.
"So," he said when he was done, clearing his threat noisily, "have you changed your mind? Do you want to come out with me today?"
Silently, she shook her head. She intended to spend the day carefully reviewing all their information. Clarke told herself she'd come up with something new. Because she had to.
"No," she shrugged. "I'll be here, researching…"
Bellamy gave a resigned sigh, and rose to grab his backpack before heading for the door. "Okay. Just keep your phone on…"
"Of course." Since they'd learned how to use them, they always made sure to keep the phones in working order. It was the only way they could be certain of staying in touch. "You, too. And… be careful out there on the water, Bellamy. Don't forget to wear your life jacket..."
"Jesus, Clarke!" He pivoted to stare down at her, his face taking on a pinched look. "I'm not five years old. Been taking care of myself for a long time now."
And Clarke was kicking herself because he was annoyed all over again, and this time over something stupid.
"Right." She nodded. "Good luck with your searching."
His smile was sardonic. "And with your researching."
A moment later he was out the door.
Clarke sighed heavily. She was trapped two hundred years in the past, knowing scarcely anyone. But this was the first moment she'd felt truly alone.
XXXXXXXXXX
Clarke spent a couple of hours going over everything they'd managed to learn about Becca Franko, but nothing new emerged from their meager store of information. Her head had begun to ache, and she was tempted to toss back a couple of those everyday pain relief tablets that seemed like such a miracle. And thought better of it only because, after her restless night, she feared the pain in her head was the only thing keeping her awake.
She wondered what the others, the ones they'd left behind, would think of all the many "miracles" of 21st-century life in America, where people had come to expect their every need to be met. She understood, of course, that things couldn't possibly be as rosy as they seemed to be, or why would Becca Franko have written a program to solve the problem of too many people gobbling up too few resources?
A program which had then gone horribly wrong.
Still, life in this climate-controlled living space, with plentiful food right down the road and transportation available to wherever she might want to go, was surely the most comfort Clarke had ever lived in. It was easy to see why the people around her simply took it all for granted.
She couldn't help a small smile as she imagined Octavia's reaction to these surroundings. Or Raven's. Surely one or both of them would be coming next...
Unless… her gut twisted painfully. Unless maybe it would be Echo.
Maybe, despite what Bellamy had told her about their breakup, things were not quite over between them. Maybe Echo would demand to be in the next group, would insist she had to rejoin Bellamy. Maybe the only reason they'd broken up at all was because of Echo's anger that Bellamy was going off with Clarke. And maybe, when Echo arrived, she herself would have to move out of the condo and cede her place to Echo...
The sudden unwelcome thought had Clarke's heart aching more than her head. She told herself sternly that it was none of her business, that she was supposed to be looking for another clue to Becca's whereabouts, not worrying about how Echo might still fit into Bellamy's life.
She frowned then as another unwelcome thought hit her.
What if it was Echo who came next, and what if she wasn't accompanied by someone who knew the bunker well? Would she even be able to find her way out?
Shit! Somehow, in their eagerness to deal with the unexpected necessity of tracking down Becca Franko, they'd forgotten all about their friends' imminent arrival in that dark bunker. And that maybe some of them, like Echo, might have a tough time getting out.
Especially with that huge damn building sitting on top of it!
Clarke suddenly stilled as a memory began to nag at her.
She and Bellamy arriving. The dark. The Stone. The scramble to find a staircase. The short conversation of the two men who'd very nearly discovered them. And then, when they finally emerged, seeing that enormous building.
A building with the Second Dawn logo etched across the top of its facade.
The breath whooshed out of her body as the pieces dropped into place inside her head.
How could they have been so stupid?
Both headache and heartache were forgotten as Clarke hurriedly stuffed her tablet and phone into her backpack and ran for the door.
XXXXXXXXXX
A bus ride into Arlington center — her first — and 15 minutes on the Metro brought Clarke once again into downtown Alexandria. Then a short walk took her back to the spot where they'd first arrived.
She recalled how she and Bellamy had been focused on the Stone, and on the bizarre coincidence of traveling through a subspace wormhole only to end up in that very familiar bunker. They'd given no thought at all to the building that rose above it.
That had been a mistake.
The enormous Second Dawn headquarters that dominated the landscape could only have been built by someone of extraordinary wealth. Someone they'd already heard had a connection of some kind to "the genius science broad."
They'd all made assumptions about Becca Franko's wealth, but what if they'd been wrong? What if it wasn't her own money that was financing her latest project, but someone else's?
Someone who might have his own reasons for funding Becca's work.
The more she considered it, the more certain Clarke was that somewhere in that building she'd find not only a link between Bill Cadogan and Becca Franko but also information on Becca's whereabouts.
But first she had to get inside.
The side door they'd emerged from two weeks earlier, the one that'd been unlocked from the inside, was now locked tighter than a drum. Just like every other door she tried. Clarke finally came to the inescapable conclusion that this was going to have to be a frontal assault.
A couple of dozen wide concrete steps led up to the main entrance, but in the hour she spent surveilling the building no one had used them. Then curiously, as lunchtime neared, a steady stream of visitors began to appear, all carrying paper bags from places like Wong Gardens or La Dolce Vita or Bernie's Subs.
She suddenly recalled the cafe they'd eaten at that first day, and hurried off, returning soon with her own paper bag filled with burgers and salads. She trailed a guy carrying a red pizza bag up the concrete steps and slipped through the front door behind him.
Pizza guy was clearly a regular, though, and was waved on through by the doorman, while Clarke was stopped before she got one foot past the threshold.
"I don't remember seeing you before. Where're you from?"
Giving the man her brightest smile, Clarke held up the bag with City Cafe written on the side.
"I'm just filling in today," she said nonchalantly.
The man looked puzzled. "I thought Winslow was off that place. Said the burgers weren't good for his cholesterol."
"Well, I got salads, too," she said. "Maybe Winslow's having the salad and the burgers are for someone else…"
The doorman frowned. "Yeah, maybe, but also… he never called down to say he'd ordered the food. He knows he's gotta do that. That's why I'm here."
Dammit! This had to work.
She shrugged, praying that her expression showed none of her distress. "Hey, he's already paid for the stuff. I'm just the delivery person. But right now, the burgers are getting cold and the salad's probably starting to wilt."
The doorman sighed. "Yeah, okay," he said reluctantly. "But you remind him next time he's gotta call down."
"Will do," she said brightly, making her escape across the lobby.
Damn! That had been worse than facing down Dante Wallace!
She was relieved when she saw that the elevator was empty. Now if she could only figure out exactly where she wanted to go. It was when she was scanning the directory on the back elevator wall that it came to her in a burst of inspiration. The mantra that she'd heard so many times from fictional detectives in all those old Ark vids.
Follow the money.
And then her destination was clear.
Clarke pressed button number 4, and was relieved that no one was in sight when the doors eventually opened onto the fourth floor. She turned briskly down the corridor, trying to look like the food delivery person she was pretending to be while surreptitiously scanning the nameplates outside the individual offices.
Human Resources. Employee Benefits. Building Maintenance.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Member Recruitment.
Her eyes opened wide at that one. From what she recalled of the irradiated bunker, the one where Bellamy had found the old coin, it hadn't seemed like Cadogan wanted much from his "members" other than their cash.
Further down the hall she finally found the office she was looking for: Bookkeeping. Zoe Fisler, Head Bookkeeper.
Clarke ducked into a darkened alcove, her heart racing now that she'd nearly reached her goal. Her mind was racing, too, as she began to imagine all the ways she might approach Zoe Fisler, then discarding one plan after another as unworkable.
That's when she had her first real piece of luck.
The door to the bookkeeping office opened suddenly and two women emerged, one middle-aged and harried-looking, complaining that she had too much work to do to stop for lunch. Her companion was younger and of a different opinion.
"Oh, bullshit, Zoe! You work too damn hard. You can find your error after lunch."
Zoe smiled tiredly. "You know, you're right. Let's go for burgers at the City Cafe."
Clarke wanted to laugh, and was tempted to toss her bag of food at their feet as though it were manna from heaven. Too bad she had to discard that idea.
As soon as the elevator closed behind them, Clarke crossed the hall, relieved to find that Zoe had left her office door unlocked. She opened it carefully, but apparently the bookkeeper worked alone because there was no one in the room.
Closing the door silently behind her, Clarke stared in dismay at the array of monitors, realizing she'd have no idea how to get into those computers. But then she recalled that Zoe Fisler had been "looking for an error," so maybe there was some kind of printout around…
In the top left-hand desk drawer she discovered a thick sheaf of papers with "Monthly Expenditures" written across the top of each page. That sounded promising. Working quickly but carefully, she scoured each page, hoping to find something useful.
She was almost ready to give up when, like a bloody miracle, there it was on the next-to-last sheet.
She fished her phone from the backpack, thankful she'd learned to use the camera function, and quickly began taking shots. Then just to be sure she scanned the rest of the document, but found nothing relevant.
But it didn't matter. Clarke was elated, certain she had what they needed.
She hurriedly returned the papers to the drawer and picked up her bag of food. Her hand was already on the doorknob when she heard the voices. Two men, both agitated, their footsteps clattering down the hallway.
"How the hell could you be such an idiot, Jensen? Letting a stranger into the building." A rough voice, clearly pissed off.
"Well, she had a food bag, said she was delivering from the cafe." The doorman, defensive. "Why the hell would I think she was bullshitting me? Good thing I decided to check with Winslow," he added virtuously. "And then call you."
"Yeah? Maybe you shoulda called me as soon as she got to the front door! But, no! And now we got some damn busybody in the building. Prob'ly some fucking reporter after our membership list. And if she's not in that office, I'm checking every goddamn room on this floor because this's where the elevator said she got off."
"Too bad there're no cameras in the building…"
"Yeah, right!" Rough guy gave a strangled laugh. "Like Cadogan'd want any record of who comes and goes around here. Come on! Help me find her before we both land our asses in a sling!"
Shit!
Clarke couldn't believe it. Just when she'd found what she needed and was ready to leave they had to come looking for her!
When she heard the men enter the membership office, she opened the door a crack, trying to judge how much time she'd have before they returned. Knowing she couldn't take a chance on the elevator and would have to make for the stairway at the other end of the hall.
Dammit! She had to move now.
Hanging onto the bag of food so they wouldn't figure out which office she'd been in, Clarke slipped out, quietly closed the door behind her. She took off at a run, racing down the hallway towards the door to the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. But her boots weren't exactly made for stealth.
She'd nearly reached her goal when she heard the shout behind her.
"Hey, girlie! Where the hell you think you're goin'? Stop right there!"
But Clarke paid no attention, grabbing for the handle and yanking the door open, hurrying down the stairs as fast as she dared. She'd reached the third floor when she heard the door open above her as the men continued to give chase.
Goddammit! She couldn't afford to be caught trespassing in this building. She'd never be able to explain herself and everything about their mission would be compromised. And she shuddered to think what might happen if she ended up in some 21st-century police station where she knew damn well that her Gabriel-made ID was unlikely to pass muster.
Incipient panic spurred her on, and soon she was flying down the stairs and pivoting around the landings until she finally reached the main floor. She was about to open the door to the lobby when it suddenly occurred to her that they might well be looking for her there, too, and that maybe it wouldn't such a good idea to just stroll across the lobby.
Making a split-second decision, Clarke turned right instead, slamming through another doorway, one that opened onto a dark staircase that she knew had to lead down to the bunker. She was already a flight down when she heard her pursuers enter the stairwell behind her.
"What the hell's down here?" She recognized the doorman's voice.
"Fuck if I know. I never been down here before. Jesus, I can't even find the lights!"
The men began to move cautiously, as did Clarke, who was forced to slow down after nearly stumbling over the concrete steps in the dark.
Beams of light suddenly played down from above and she knew the men must have turned on flashlights. Clarke figured if she could use the lights to guide her, while at the same time avoiding the beam herself, she might just make it to the bottom without either killing herself or getting caught.
Minutes later, with a silent sigh of relief, she reached the bottom level — the one where she knew the Stone was located. There was just enough light filtering through from above to orient her, and she was suddenly confident that she'd be able to find the same stairway she and Bellamy had used weeks earlier to reach the side exit.
She was moving quickly, avoiding the light, when she stumbled suddenly, banging her foot, crying out. And making just enough noise to give away her location. One of the lights swung immediately in her direction, catching in its beam the hand that was still clutching the bag of food.
"There she is!"
They were after her then, abandoning their zigzag search and coming straight for her. She tried to shift away as she raced across the floor, but her stumble and the subsequent scramble to stay out of the light was just enough to disorient her. And now Clarke was no longer sure exactly where the hell the staircase was.
She was nearly frantic as she searched blindly for a dark corner to hide in while trying not to crash into the wall. She'd turned a corner, praying she was still on track for the stairway, when she was suddenly grabbed from behind, and a hand clapped over her mouth as she was pulled roughly against a hard body.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Clarke's heart sank. How could she not have known they were that close?
XXXXXXXXXX
Bellamy had always been a stubborn son of a bitch, but it took him only a couple of hours to admit to himself that Clarke had been right. That it was pointless to simply bang around a 200-mile long bay that had nearly 300 islands, hoping to blindly stumble across the right one.
It was even more difficult trying to do it alone, without Clarke there to read the map while he piloted the boat.
After two hours, he knew it was time to turn the boat into the rental place and drive back to the condo, so he could eat crow for being a stubborn idiot and also apologize to Clarke for being such a prick to her.
Goddammit, he hated fighting with Clarke! Especially when he knew he was totally in the wrong.
It'd been so fucking unfair of him to act like she didn't care about the mission, when he knew damn well that no one cared more about helping people, about saving people, than Clarke Griffin. She'd proved that over and over again since the first day he'd met her, staring him down by the dropship door.
He desperately needed to get back and tell her that.
It was nearly midday and traffic was relatively light even in this heavily populated area, so Bellamy made good time getting back to Arlington. He opened the condo door, fully expecting see Clarke hunched over her tablet, scrutinizing their data on Becca Franko, and gave a little start of surprise when she wasn't where he expected.
But when she wasn't in the bedroom, either, or the bathroom, office, or kitchen, Bellamy's surprise quickly turned to concern.
Her backpack seemed to be missing, but a thorough search of the condo revealed no note telling him where she'd gone. He quickly fished out his phone, but she'd left him no texts, either.
Goddammit, Clarke! They were essentially alone on this planet, in this time period, and they were never supposed to be out of touch.
He switched to another screen, scrolling down and pressing one of the two phone numbers stored there — the other being Rosa Santiago's. It was only when Clarke didn't answer that Bellamy went into full panic mode.
He called the number over and ever, each time expecting that this was the time she'd pick up and reassure him that she was okay. It was on the sixth try that he suddenly remembered the phone finder function.
By now, Bellamy's hands were trembling. So many terrible things had happened to them that he somehow couldn't stop himself from fearing the worst.
His heart began to beat regularly again only when the blue dot started pinging on his screen. He used two fingers to widen the map and see where she was, gaping in disbelief when he saw her location.
What the hell was she doing in Alexandria?
He pressed "Get Directions," grabbing his keys and his backpack as the line-by-line instructions began to fill his screen. By the time he reached the garage, his phone was already talking to him.
"Take a right out of the parking garage."
As always, traffic between the two cities was heavy, and Bellamy thought more than once that maybe he would have got there faster using public transportation. But it was too late now and he sure as hell wasn't going back and starting over. He was lucky to find a parking garage, and exited the car to continue following the blinking blue dot on foot.
And couldn't believe where it took him.
From across the street, he looked up at the building in front of him and wondered why in the hell Clarke had gone back to the bunker. Had some of the others arrived earlier than expected? But, no, that couldn't be it because… how would she have known?
Maybe she was somewhere else in in the building, but if so, how the fuck was he ever going to find her? It didn't seem like the kind of place you could just walk into.
He sighed. Not that that would have stopped Clarke.
As Bellamy considered his next move, he silently railed against the twist of fate that had brought the bunker back into his life. As far as he was concerned, the place was cursed. Clarke had threatened to shoot him over it, Abby had become an addict there, and it had turned Octavia into a lunatic.
Despite the people it had saved, he sometimes wished they'd never found the damn place, never figured out how to open it, never…
His head shot up as his brain began to unspool a series of events. Himself finding the old coin, Monty figuring out how to turn it into a key, and then Octavia taking charge of the key when she won the right to rule the bunker.
And finally, after they'd patched up their differences on Sanctum, Octavia handing the key to him.
"You're the one who found that coin in the first place," she'd told him. "So maybe you should have this."
Despite his feelings about the bunker, he'd hung onto the key as a memento of his reconciliation with Octavia. And like every other item he'd wanted to keep, it had come to the 21st century with him in his backpack.
Without even stopping to think about it, Bellamy crossed the busy downtown street and casually worked his way around to the back of the Second Dawn building. Then he yanked off his backpack and started pulling everything out of it. There in the very bottom was the key to the bunker.
Could this possibly work? Could a key made from a coin he'd found a hundred years from now actually open the door to this building?
There was only one way to find out.
He headed for the door that he and Clarke had used a couple of weeks earlier, and after a quick look round just to make sure no one was watching him, he inserted the key into the lock and gave it a sharp turn.
There was a distinct click and then the latch opened.
In utter disbelief that it had actually worked, he quickly shoved his belongings back into the pack and hoisted it onto his back. Looking around one last time, he opened the door and silently slipped inside the building.
It was dark, just like he'd expected. His flashlight was ready, but before Bellamy could turn it on he heard the sound of someone stumbling, followed by a cry.
Shit! That was Clarke! He'd know her voice anywhere.
And then came another voice, male and agitated. "There she is!"
Bellamy's heart began to race when he realized Clarke was being pursued.
Scrambling down the stairs in the dark, he could just about make out Clarke running in his general direction with two figures in hot pursuit. He could also see that she was about to run smack into a dead end, and with no time to assess the situation, he reached out to grab her as she ran past, clapping his hand ever her mouth and pulling her into a pitch-black alcove beneath the stairs.
As a hiding place it wasn't much, but there was nowhere else to go.
She struggled for an instant, but then he murmured, "Sh, Clarke, it's me. Try to stay still."
He felt her body tremble, although whether from fear or relief he wasn't sure.
Meanwhile, her pursuers seemed to be slowing down, gasping for air after what must have been a long chase.
"Where the hell'd she go? She was just fucking here."
"I dunno, Jensen, but I'm damn sick of running after her. Did you tell anyone else about this girl?"
"Uh, well I told the other guy at the front door to look out for a blond girl, but I never said nothin' about a security breach."
The other guy sighed. "Good. Let's just keep this to ourselves, then. What they don't know they can't complain about, and anyway, it looks like she's gone now. I got enough shit to do without having to write up some stupid report."
Jensen agreed. "Hey, I won't say nothin' if you don't."
As they moved away, their voices had become fainter and fainter, but Bellamy wasn't taking any chances. Now that she knew it was him, he'd taken his hand from Clarke's mouth, but he still held onto her tightly. Neither of them spoke. It felt like they barely breathed.
After what he estimated to be a full five minutes of silence in the bunker, he removed his hand from Clarke's waist and muttered, "I think it's safe to go now."
She nodded and allowed him to lead her up the stairs and out through the rear door.
They stared at each other for a moment until finally Clarke said, "Look, Bellamy, let me explain…"
But now that she was safe and sound, Bellamy could feel his fear turning to anger. The last thing he wanted was to stand on a street corner in downtown Alexandria and listen to her rationale about why she did something so dangerously stupid.
"Not now," he said, abruptly cutting her off. "Let's get back to the condo first, and then you can tell me about it."
Clarke sighed, nodding.
"Why're you carrying that bag from the cafe?" he asked as they made their way back to the car. "Did you stop to buy us lunch in the middle of your little adventure?"
"No. It was part of my… my ruse."
"Yeah? Well, is there actual food in there?"
"Yes, but I've been carrying it around for an hour…."
He shook his head. "You haven't been here that long, Clarke. We don't waste food. We'll eat it when we get back."
Bellamy paid the parking fee and they drove back to Arlington in near silence. As soon as they were inside the condo, Clarke started to explain again, but he just said, "Let's eat first," so they chowed down on cold burgers and wilted salad.
He'd had worse. Much worse.
When she was finished, Clarke wiped her face with a napkin and turned to him with a determined look on her face. But before she could say a word Bellamy's grievances burst out of him.
"Do you have any idea how worried I was about you, Clarke?"
"But I didn't know you'd leave the bay, so I was sure I'd be back first…"
"And that's your explanation? For leaving me no word about where the hell you were. For not even answering your damn phone."
He could feel himself becoming more upset with every word that came out of his mouth.
"I… turned the phone to silent so it couldn't ring and maybe… give me away."
Bellamy jumped up, unable to contain his agitation.
"Jesus, Clarke! Did it never occur to you that I might call and then be worried sick when you didn't answer?"
Clarke rose, too, and grabbed onto his arm. "I'm sorry, Bellamy. Really. I guess I just… didn't think it would be that big a deal. That you would worry… that much."
Bellamy stared down at her in disbelief.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You've died on me twice, Clarke. Twice. This last time… I almost didn't make it. So, yeah, if something isn't right I'm gonna fucking worry about you!"
His eyes shuttered briefly as he tried to shift his mind away from the possibility that something bad might have happened to Clarke today, but it was damn hard. When he opened them, she was staring up at him with an unreadable expression on her face.
He looked down at her, sighing softly. "I just… I don't think I could go through that again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You getting hurt… or-or worse. I think it would be the end of me this time."
"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice soft, her eyes teary as she gazed up at him in obvious distress. "I just… I didn't realize. But I'd never want to upset you, Bellamy. It was… thoughtless of me."
"Yeah, okay, it's over now, I guess." He shrugged lightly, just managing to push the words past the lump in his throat.
"C'mere," she whispered, wrapping her arms firmly around his waist and laying her head against his chest.
Bellamy pulled her into a fierce hug, burying his face in her neck as his hand clutched at her curls. The relief of having her in his arms was nearly overwhelming, and he wondered how much longer he'd be able to pretend that what he felt for her wasn't deep and passionate.
They hung onto each other for several minutes, and when she finally pulled back to look up at him with a tremulous smile, he suddenly knew that if, at that moment, he were to bend down and kiss her, she'd return that kiss. He hesitated while he told himself that he should just go for it. Just… change things between them forever.
But then she sighed softly, pulling back from him as her expression shifted ever so slightly.
"I have to tell you something, Bellamy."
"Okay," he said, bracing himself for whatever it was she had to say.
But her words were nothing like he might have expected.
Clarke gazed up at him solemnly and said, "I found Becca."