AN: OK, so I realized some time ago that this was going to take ages at the posting rate I'm going, so it's been my intention for at least a month to start posting twice a week, I just haven't had the time. Right now I actually do (though I probably jinxed it just writing that!) so I'm going to try to pick things up and post (probably) Wednesdays and Saturdays going forward!
I don't own anything relating to The 100
See the end of the chapter for warnings
Chapter title from "Just to Save Me (Through the Fire)", by Jake Etheridge
31
Through the Smoke, Through the Fire
Experiencing Paris with Bellamy is so different from experiencing it on her own, or even with Raven and Zeke, and Clarke soon realizes why the city has earned the nickname 'the city of love'. Sure, she's been able to say objectively that the promenade along the Seine is beautiful and probably romantic, especially at night, with its many bridges lit up and glittering in the darkness, and watching the sun set over the Seine, the Eiffel Tower in the distance, must be the perfect romantic setting, but she's never really felt it herself before.
Wandering through the narrow streets of Le Marais with Bellamy, though, she finally gets it. Even in broad daylight, their surroundings make the stroll feel more intimate, the many little squares ideal for short breaks with brief kisses and the old buildings and churches that appear every few blocks lending the scene an almost timeless feel.
They don't have a goal in mind, and not really any time restraints, apart from the fact that they're leaving early tomorrow morning for a bus tour out to the coast and the beaches of the D-Day landings, so by the time the sun starts setting, they're only just leaving Le Marais, passing the odd building that houses the Pompidou Centre.
"It's getting dark," Bellamy notes, gazing up at the sky where the moon and stars have replaced the sun. "You want to start heading back, maybe grab an early dinner at one of those little places we saw along the river earlier?"
"Mmm," she agrees, reaching up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Early to bed…"
He chuckles and tugs her closer. "That's what I was thinking, yeah, but not for the reasons you're obviously thinking." She pouts a little at that, making him laugh even more. "I thought we had to get up at, like, five tomorrow?"
"So?"
He just shakes his head at her. "Come on, let's worry about food first, and then we'll see what you're up for when we get back to the hotel."
Clarke accepts his hand and they set out in the direction of the Seine, crossing the river at Pont Neuf and descending the stairs just beyond it to walk along the water. All the restaurants along their route are full, though, which they probably should have expected – even though it is a Sunday evening, they are in a very popular part of the city. Eventually, they end up at a little bistro just a block or so from the hotel, and they're back in their room by eight o'clock.
They don't go to sleep for another couple of hours, but still.
-100-
Clarke hadn't been completely sure about booking a tour with focus on World War Two, considering Bellamy's historical interest lies more in ancient Greece and Rome. In the end, she decided that she wanted to go on the tour, though, and when she sees Bellamy listening to their guide intently, she's glad she did.
It's an interesting day, for sure. The museums, the memorials on the beaches, the American cemetery…
"Did you have any ancestors who fought in the war?" Clarke asks, keeping her voice low, when they're weaving through the crosses marking the graves.
"Not that I know," Bellamy replies, looking out over the field. "But I don't really know a lot about my family. My grandparents kicked my mom out when she was sixteen and they caught her kissing a guy they didn't approve of. She lived with a friend's family for a few years, until she turned eighteen and could get a job, an apartment of her own… After that, Mom didn't have any contact with her family at all, or at least not as far as I know. O asked about them sometimes, but Mom just brushed it off, changed the subject, until she didn't bother asking anymore. They didn't even reach out to us after Mom died. Not that… they might not even know she's dead, I guess, I definitely never told them… They could still be alive, I suppose, but…"
She pulls him to a stop to be able to wrap her arms around him. "If that's the way they treated their own daughter, they don't deserve to know you or Octavia."
His arms go around her and he leans his chin against the top of her head. "Yeah."
It's after ten by the time they get back to the hotel, and Clarke has just enough energy left to set an alarm for the next morning, when they have tickets to the Eiffel Tower at ten o'clock, before tumbling into bed and falling asleep within minutes.
After a good night's sleep and a sturdy breakfast, they head off towards the Eiffel Tower the next day. Clarke has to admit that she's excited about the visit. She's been to the tower before, the first time way back in 1957, when she and Wells spent a week in a small village in the French countryside, somewhere between Paris and Orléans – they had only stayed one night in Paris on the way back to London but had managed to fit a quick visit in – and twice while she lived here between 2005 and 2011. But this visit, with Bellamy, feels… different, somehow.
They have tickets to skip the line and are soon in the enclosed area around the tower. The line to the elevator is already pretty long, so they stroll around the Esplanade for a while, getting close to the pillars and snapping pictures from below the tower itself, before joining the queue.
The first floor has changed a lot since Clarke was last here – not least the new glass floor.
"OK, this is a little creepy," she says when they reach the first section of it. "I don't know if I like it."
"Why not?" Bellamy asks, stepping onto the glass and turning to face her with a smirk. "Not like it would hurt you if the floor did give out. Which it's not going to."
She takes a tentative step onto the glass as well, eyes firmly straight ahead, and reaches for his hand, which he willingly holds out for her. "It would hurt me," she retorts. "It just wouldn't kill me… probably. Not sure where exactly the line between self-inflicted and accident is…"
"Right." He squeezes her hand. "But you have to look down, it's amazing. Come on, just for a second."
She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and then quickly looks down, which… OK, not as scary as she thought. It's pretty obvious they're standing on a pane of glass, doesn't look like they're floating in air, like she's seen in photos from other sights with similar arrangements.
"It is pretty cool," she admits.
"See? I told you."
They move on to the cultural path a few minutes later, exploring the tower and its history, before again getting in line for the elevators.
They don't linger too long on the second floor, just rounding the tower to get photos of the city sprawled out far beneath them from all sides before continuing to the last stop – the top floor.
As soon as they've climbed the final staircase and emerge onto the open-air platform wrapping around the top floor of the tower, the wind catches Clarke's hair and blows it all around her. She quickly gathers it into a ponytail to get it out of her face before following Bellamy to the railing.
"Wow," he breathes when she joins him, eyes fixed on the Seine below, crisscrossed by bridges and with Île aux Cygnes no more than a narrow, green strip of land.
"I know," she agrees, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder. A moment later, she feels his arm go around her, pulling her even closer.
They stay like that, just watching the city below, for a long moment before Clarke takes a step to the side and looks up at him.
"Come on," she says with a smile, slipping her hand into his instead and leading the way around the platform.
They move slowly, stopping every few feet to point out something below or wait for other tourists to move out of the way.
"Is that the Arc de Triomphe?" Bellamy asks, indicating the structure in question, when they've almost completed their lap.
"Yup," Clarke confirms, releasing his hand to be able to lean against the railing. "And I think that might be our hotel."
"Yeah?"
He's right behind her, the word spoken softly into her ear, making a tingle run down her spine. She turns her head a little, to be able to look up at him, at the same time as he leans against the railing, hands on either side of her.
She knows she was about to say something, but she can't for the life of her remember what, not when he's watching her like that, eyes intense and not shifting the slightest from hers. Finally, he breaks eye contact, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on her lips. "Love you, Princess."
"I love you."
He opens his mouth again, as if he's about to say something else, but is interrupted by a shriek coming from a few feet to their right. When they both turn to see what's going on, they find a man on one knee, a ring in his outstretched hand, and his overjoyed girlfriend nodding frantically with tears streaming down her face.
Clarke laughs lowly. "Another Eiffel Tower proposal," she notes lightly. "I think there were… three the last time I was here, one up here and two down in the restaurant."
"Ah," Bellamy says with a nod, glancing down at her but quickly averting his eyes. "Popular spot, I guess. You want to get going?"
"Sure. I mean, it's romantic and all…" She pauses until they're well out of earshot of the newly-engaged couple. "But a little bit of a cliché, you know? Like proposing on Valentine's Day or putting the ring in a champagne glass."
He chuckles as he follows her back down the stairs to the elevator.
They've taken their time, so it's almost two by the time they get back to the ground.
"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Clarke says once they've crossed the street to Champ de Mars.
"I could eat," Bellamy agrees with a shrug. "What are you in the mood for?"
She thinks for a moment. "If it hasn't closed in the last eight years, there should be a place with the best pizza in Paris a few blocks from here."
"Sounds good. Lead the way."
It takes a little while, but she does eventually find the restaurant, on the corner of two nondescript streets in the heart of Grenelle, and they still have amazing pizza. By the time their plates are mostly empty, they're both way too full and decide to head back to the hotel to just relax for a few hours.
They wrap up the day with dinner and an amazing show at the famous Parisian cabaret Moulin Rouge.
Wednesday is another intense day – they're at the Louvre when it opens at nine in the morning and spend most day strolling through the many rooms and waiting to get close enough to actually be able to see the Mona Lisa. After they've had some lunch at the Café Mollien, Clarke half-heartedly offers to call it a day, but Bellamy won't hear it.
"We still have, like, half this place left," he points out, which is true.
"That's OK, we've seen the most interesting pieces," she replies with a shrug.
He gives her a long, scrutinizing look. "Nope, I'm putting my foot down – we're staying until we've seen everything."
She had been hoping he would say that, but still felt like she needed to at least make the suggestion, since she knows he's not that interested in art. "You sure?"
"Positive, Princess," he assures her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss on top of her head. "I am having a good time, really."
She tries to find any hint of insincerity in his eyes or voice, but there's nothing. Maybe he really is enjoying himself. She had fun at the British Museum, after all, just watching him enjoy the exhibits.
In the end, it's dark by the time they leave the museum, and they just stop for food on the way before returning to the hotel for another 'early night'.
Thursday and Friday they spend out and about in the city once more, exploring Montmartre with the striking, white basilica of Sacré-Cœur, the Père Lachaise cemetery with its many celebrity tombs, Jardin du Luxembourg and the slightly morbid catacombs underneath the city.
"OK, this is a little creepy, right?" Bellamy mumbles when they're stopped in front of a wall made of skulls and bones, with a cross in the middle.
"Little bit, yeah," she agrees immediately.
They continue through the humid tunnels but don't really linger too much, and she has to admit that she sucks in a deep breath once they're back out in the open air. She might technically work with death, but that doesn't normally mean skeletons.
The next day, they leave a sunny Paris and, an hour and a half later, land in an equally nice, if colder, Berlin.
"How is it colder here than in Iceland?" Bellamy half-grumbles when they're waiting for a cab outside the terminal.
"I don't know, but I can't wait until we get to Italy," she replies.
He chuckles a little. "I doubt it'll be nice and warm, it'll still be mid-March," he points out.
"Yeah," she grudgingly agrees, turning her head up just to catch a snowflake on her nose. "But at least it won't snow."
Since they only have two full days in Berlin, Clarke has booked a half-day walking tour on Sunday, which covers the main sights in the city. Luckily, the snow never became more than a few flakes yesterday, and the temperature has risen significantly over night.
The only time she's been in Berlin before was in 1989. She was stationed in Gothenburg in the south western parts of Sweden when news of the fall of the Berlin wall came. She and Harper, who was there at the same time, had quickly decided to head down there, since both of them somehow had two free days ahead of them, and actually being there, during one of the big moments in history, is something Clarke has never regretted.
Still, she suspects that the day and a half she spent in the city back then is probably not representative of Berlin today.
One of the stops on the tour is Checkpoint Charlie, the old crossing point between East and West Berlin, and they also stop at a few places with remnants of the wall, but that's basically all Clarke remembers from her previous visit. Everything else is new for both her and Bellamy – the monument Brandenburger Tor, the Reichstag, which houses the parliament, the avenue Unter den Linden… it's a bit of a fast forward introduction to the city, and there's a lot of information in the few short hours they spend with their guide, but it gives them a good idea of what they want to go back to tomorrow, and they get some tips about other things to check out as well.
Their hotel is practically on Alexanderplatz, but they didn't arrive until pretty late last night, so they spend the afternoon checking out the surrounding area – the World Time Clock and TV tower on the square, city hall and Nikolaikirche closer to the Spree, and finally Berliner Dom on the other side of the river.
Monday, the weather takes another turn, the sky a bright blue and the sun beaming down on them, lifting the temperature towards the sixties. After breakfast, they set out on foot in search of the East Side Gallery – the preserved mile or so of the Berlin Wall that's covered with murals these days – and also check out the Wall Museum before taking a cab back to Brandenburger Tor, where they pay their respect at the Holocaust memorial nearby. A few minutes later, they pass the site of Hitler's bunker – nothing more than a non-descript parking area and lawn in a residential neighborhood these days. There's a sign with some information, but that's it. Clarke's not entirely sure how she feels about that – on the one hand, she can see why the people living here wouldn't want to brag about it, but on the other, she's been around long enough to know that humanity has a tendency to repeat its mistakes. If you try to forget your past, no matter how horrible it is, what's to say it won't just happen all over again?
"I thought there would be… more," Bellamy notes, giving voice to her thoughts.
"I know, me too."
"I mean…" he continues after a moment. "I'm not saying glorify that time period or anything, but if you just try to forget it…"
"That can be very dangerous," Clarke finishes his sentence.
"Exactly."
They wrap up the day – and their Berlin experience – with another visit to Checkpoint Charlie, followed by a long walk through the sunny and surprisingly warm city, back to their hotel. Before Clarke can quite wrap her mind around being in Berlin, they're on the plane to Kraków the next morning.
"Do you realize we've already been traveling for a month and a half?" Bellamy asks once the plane has levelled out at cruising altitude.
Clarke has to think about it for a moment but realizes that he's right – they left New York on January 20, and it's now March 5. It's been six and a half weeks.
"I mean, considering everything we've done, it doesn't sound like a lot of time," she notes, curling up against him and stretching her legs out over his lap. "But it still doesn't feel like it's been that long, and I can't believe it's already March."
His arm goes around her and he pulls her even closer, practically into his lap. "Yeah. Time flies…"
"Hey." She leans back a little to be able to look up at him. "We still have a lot left."
She's not sure herself if she means that they have a lot of trip left – which they do – or a lot of time. Which they don't, not really, not in the grand scheme of things. Four and a half months, that's nothing to her and not much more to the average Norm.
The thought makes her eyes dart to Bellamy's forehead and his Number, which she barely thinks about these days. 144. It had been 271 the day they met – even if she hadn't seen it until two, technically three, days later. It's not quite half, but it's painfully close.
He catches her glance, of course. "What is it today?"
She takes a deep breath and buries her face against his shoulder before answering. "144." It's muffled a little, but she knows he still hears her.
Bellamy doesn't say anything to that, but she can feel the shaky breath he sucks in and then lets back out. Neither of them speak for a while, just existing in the same space.
"I wish I could give you more time," Clarke then mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut against the swell of emotions threatening to suffocate her. "If there was anything I could do, I…"
"I know, Princess," he cuts her off, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know. I'm OK. Really."
Maybe he is, maybe she's the only one fighting back tears and struggling to push down the lump that's quickly rising in her throat. Or maybe he can just tell that she's close to snapping and is trying to comfort her.
The thought makes her pull herself together, at least enough so she can look up at him without bursting into tears. He looks calm, eyes soft, even the hint of a smile on his lips.
"Really," he repeats, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"It's OK to not be OK, though," she tells him.
"I know." He nods. "And I promise I will let you know when I'm not."
She keeps her eyes locked with his for a long moment, until she's sure he really means it. "Good."
"Is everything alright here?"
They both jump a little at the sharp voice and look up to find a flight attendant looking down at them, an annoyed expression on her face. She quickly puts on a fake smile when she has their attention.
"Everything's fine," Clarke assures her, sliding back fully into her own seat and pulling her legs out of Bellamy's lap.
"Great!" The smile widens but the woman still looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here. "We'll be landing in just a little while, so if you could fasten your seatbelts, that would be excellent."
They immediately do as they're told and manage to make it until she's disappeared through the curtains to business class before they break down laughing.
"Talk about passive aggressive," Bellamy notes when he's stopped laughing.
"Yeah, who pissed in her coffee this morning," Clarke agrees, glancing towards the front of the plane to make sure the woman really is gone before pulling his arm around her and snuggling closer.
The heavy moment is broken, if only for now.
Kraków is another brief stop, they only have one full day in the city which they spend exploring as much as they can on foot. Their hotel is close to the Ghetto Heroes Square, a poignant memorial to the Jews of the old ghetto who were sent to their deaths during the war. It seems even more harrowing in the beautiful and sunny March morning and neither of them say anything, just stand there in silence, hands interlaced, looking out over the square, before Clarke finally tugs Bellamy along.
They slowly make their way to Oskar Schindler's old factory, which is another interesting but chilling experience, before crossing the Vistula into Kazimierz, the old Jewish quarters. Clarke has downloaded an app for street art in Kraków, which is apparently a big thing, and they spend some time locating all the murals in the area before continuing towards the Wawel castle and cathedral.
Deciding they need a break from being cultural, Bellamy insists they grab some food before continuing, and Clarke realizes that she's actually hungry. They end up at a restaurant in the castle grounds where they try some local pierogi, which are absolutely delicious.
After lunch, they make their way to Krakow's old town, Stare Miasto, which is all cobbled pedestrian streets, magnificent churches and little squares, and Clarke immediately loves it. Awnings indicate where there are probably tables during warmer months, and the sun is warming them enough that it's not hard to imagine enjoying a coffee or drink here.
Eventually, they find the main market square, a huge, open space surrounded on all sides by beautiful old buildings in different colors. In the middle of the square is an ornate building which Clarke quickly figures out is the old cloth hall. They stroll around the stands set up on the open ground floor for a while, perusing everything from jewelry and clothes to art and glassware. Once Clarke's picked out an adorable, purple plush dragon – apparently a Wawel dragon from local folklore – for Raven, they leave the old town and follow the river back in the general direction of their hotel. For part of the way, the path is interspersed with stars with what they assume are the names of famous people and their handprints, Hollywood Walk of Fame style. They eventually find Michael Jackson, confirming their theory, and then Benedict Cumberbatch and Roman Polanski.
They cross the river once more and spend another hour or so finding the last of the street murals from Clarke's app, before finally returning to the hotel for an early night.
The next day, they're on a minibus leaving the city by eight thirty in the morning, en route to the main reason they even came to Kraków in the first place – the Auschwitz-Birkenau memorial and museum.
"This feels strange," Bellamy mumbles when they're standing on a paved parking lot an hour and a half later. It looks just like any other tourist attraction – half a dozen buses are parked along one side of the lot, their minibus and a few others along the other, another group of tourists gathered around an information board. Nothing that gives away what actually happened here. At least not yet. "Just… it's great that it's been preserved and that you can experience it, learn about what happened, but it still feels…"
"Morbid?" Clarke offers when he trails off, sliding her hand into his and squeezing.
He lets out a long breath. "That's probably a good word, yeah."
The guided tour is… interesting, of course, but it feels wrong to say, somehow. It's heartbreaking and terrifying and shocking and… Clarke's not sure there are really words for it.
And the beautiful weather just feels wrong. Not that grey skies and rain would make the stark reality of the place any better, but the bright sun and blue sky somehow makes it even more surreal.
When they pass under the infamous 'Arbeit macht frei' sign, she feels Bellamy shudder beside her and slides an arm around his waist.
"You OK?"
He nods. "Yeah, I… just picturing what happened here makes me feel cold all over."
"I know," she agrees. "I remember when the first reports started coming after the war, about what happened in these places…" Some of those images have stayed with her to this day, the children in striped clothes behind barbed wire, the emaciated bodies of survivors, the mass graves and piles of clothes…
"Yeah?"
Bellamy's voice brings her out of her memories and she leans into him gratefully when he pulls her closer. They're at the back of the group, so she's not worried about being overheard, but she still lowers her voice a little when she continues.
"I mean, there were rumors during the war, and even before…" She sighs. "Me and Raven and a couple of other friends were at a rally in Madison Square Garden in 1937, this huge protest against Nazi Germany and Hitler… we knew the war was going on, even before Pearl Harbor, but it was distant, you know? But I don't think anyone could even imagine this."
He sighs. "Who could? It shouldn't be possible, people shouldn't be able to treat other human beings like this…"
They continue in silence, following their guide around the camp for another hour, before they get back on the bus for the short trip to their second stop at Birkenau.
The first thing they see when they get off the bus again is railroad tracks leading through an opening in a brick building, and Clarke has to actually stop for a moment, because she knows this place. She remembers it.
Bellamy has stopped beside her, a frown on his face, so she quickly smiles at him. "I'm OK."
"You don't look OK," he retorts, eyebrows furrowed.
"I am, really. Just a… memory. Not mine," she hurries to add when his eyes widen. "I don't even remember her name, it must be… fifteen years ago? Maybe twenty."
Realization dawns on his face. "Ah, one of your… clients?"
It's as good a word as any, Clarke supposes.
"Yeah. I'm sure she had other memories from this place, but sometimes those things get a little jumbled, or maybe she had repressed them… I can't remember anything else, anyway. This was the one thing that was a really clear memory, arriving here…"
"Do you want to skip this part?" Bellamy asks, but she shakes her head.
"No, I'm fine, really. Come on."
So they catch up with their group for the last part of the tour.
It's a quiet drive back to the city later in the afternoon, everyone in the minibus deep in their own thoughts, reflecting over everything they've experienced.
Clarke curls up against Bellamy and lets his warmth and presence comfort her.
Chapter warnings: references to the Holocaust and concentration camps, it gets a little dark