a/n In case you didn't already get this vibe, I plan on sticking around even though the show is over! Here's a chapter of angst and fluff!
Huge thanks to everyone who has left comments on this fic so far - shout out to Vic for commenting on everything but I can never reply because you're a guest! And thanks to Stormkpr for betaing as always. Happy reading!
Bellamy has spent hours, now, trying to plan his goodbye note to Clarke. In fact really he supposes he's been thinking about this for days, ever since he realised he would have to leave to look for his sister if the nightblood solution worked.
He's still no closer to picking up the pen.
How do you say goodbye to the woman who means the world to you, when the Earth is about to go up in flames? He's pretty sure she knows she means the world to him, but even so, they've never actually acknowledged it. So he's not sure whether to say anything about love or family or even caring. And all of this would be hard enough in person, but as it is, he cannot risk saying goodbye to her in person. He knows she'd try to talk him out of it, and that would be beyond painful for them both. So it is that he's trying to write a note that isn't completely inadequate.
He needs to just do it. He has to leave soon.
He procrastinates with other tasks. He fills his pack with a canteen of water and a change of clothes, but nothing else. He cannot take rations from Arkadia, because the residents will need all the food they can get. He's already had his nightblood shot, and he'll steal one for his sister along the way. He's learnt a thing or two from Miller, these last few months.
Finally, there is nothing else to do. He sits at the small desk in his room, looks at the blank sheet of paper before him. He's set the little bottle of Jasper's shampoo next to it, a reminder not to leave it behind when he goes to put Clarke's note by her door.
Like he needs a reminder. He's pretty sure he wouldn't forget to give Clarke the only gift he will ever be able to offer her.
He picks up the pen. He needs to – time is short. He spins it in his hand for a few seconds, considering, hesitating. Thanks for your support, maybe? No, too formal. Thanks for the radio calls? No, there's more to their relationship than that.
I love you?
Hell no. He's not brave enough for that, nor desperate enough, nor confident enough.
May we meet again.
It's not much, but the sentiment is right, he thinks. He'll be back – at least he hopes and prays he will. And Clarke is the person he'll be thinking of every second he struggles to make it home in time.
He hefts his pack over his shoulder, glances down to make sure his bootlaces are tied tightly. He mustn't go walking out into the apocalypse with loose laces. He may be woefully underprepared in almost every other way imaginable, but that is one thing he intends to get right. He picks up the shampoo and the note, and heads out the door and down the corridor to leave them outside Clarke's room.
The hallways are very quiet, this time of night. That's why he's leaving now. He just needs to make it to Clarke's and then to the nightblood serum storage room without being caught, then slip out through Raven's gate. He hasn't asked anyone to turn the power off, didn't want to risk sharing his plan with anyone. But the gap in the fence there is pretty large these days, and he thinks that a determined rebel could slip through without getting hurt.
He hopes. He'll be no use to his sister if he electrocutes himself and gets caught screaming.
All is quiet in Clarke's section of hallway. That's a good sign. He walks right up to her door, staring at it hard. It's so tempting, now he's here, to knock and see if she's still up. He so desperately wants to share just one last hug with her, in case he doesn't make it home to her before the world burns.
No. He mustn't. Just put down the shampoo and run, Bellamy.
He sets the shampoo and the note on the floor, backs away slowly. This is it – his last chance to say goodbye to her in person. His last chance to hold her in his arms and tell her how much she means to him.
He mustn't do it.
He turns on his heel and strides back down the corridor.
…...
Clarke can't sleep.
It's stupid, because she needs to sleep. She's tired, and tomorrow she has a whole day scheduled of driving round Trikru territory offering nightblood serum. And the day after that, Azgeda, which will hardly be a barrel of laughs. She'll be lucky if she manages to survive distributing the nightblood there, she thinks wryly.
It's well past midnight when she hears the footsteps in the corridor. Someone is trying to tread quietly, but she can just about pick them out all the same. And then the footsteps pause, right outside her door, for the longest time.
She sucks in a breath. Is this some assassin, come to finish her off? She lies perfectly still in bed, tries to think her way out of this. The windows on the Ark don't open, and are difficult to smash, so that's no good escape route.
It's when the footsteps start striding away again that it all makes sense. Her nighttime visitor is being less cautious, now that he is walking off. And she'd recognise that footfall anywhere – that's Bellamy, moving quickly, determinedly, and she can just imagine the unhappy frown he's wearing to match his stride.
He's leaving. That must be it. That's the only explanation she can think of – he's off out of here to look for his sister.
She doesn't know whether she's more hurt or upset or scared. But she can figure that out later. Right now, she leaps out of bed, dashes to the door, practically tears it open.
"Bellamy." She gives a low call, a sort of throaty midnight whisper that carries down the corridor.
He freezes, almost at the corner that would have taken him out of sight. She sighs in relief – she got here just in time, for once.
"Bellamy." She repeats. "Come talk to me for a minute." She hopes it doesn't sound like she's begging. Probably it does, though.
He turns, slowly, eyes averted. His jaw is clenched and, sure enough, he's wearing one hell of a frown. While he starts walking back towards her, she bends to pick up something she can see on the floor just outside her threshold. It's a bottle. A tiny bottle, filled with milky white liquid. And with it, a note – just four words.
May we meet again.
Yes. He was leaving – that's certain.
He's about two yards away from her, now, but he doesn't come any closer. He looks sad and apprehensive and a thousand other things she doesn't want for him.
"Come in." She invites him. "I promise I won't hold you up much. Just – let's talk, please."
"You're not angry with me? You're not going to try and stop me?" He sounds almost disappointed, she thinks, which is really quite weird.
"I'm not angry that you think you have to go. I'd try to stop you but I know there's no point – you're set on going, and we'd just upset each other." She mutters, eyes fixed on the floor, wondering if she's given too much away. "I'm only angry that you left a note rather than saying goodbye in person. Didn't you trust me to try to see it your way and help you out?"
His jaw isn't clenched any more. It's hanging slightly open, and he looks stunned. "You'd do that for me?"
I'd do anything for you, she thinks. She's pretty sure that's the truth – sometimes she even finds herself musing that she'd probably sacrifice most of the human race to save him, if ever that horrible choice presented itself.
"I knew you would go." She says, instead of anything more dangerous. "I should be angry with you for lying about it, the other day when I asked."
"But instead you're just hurt." He concludes sadly.
She nods. He stands, hands on hips, frown on face.
And then he breaks, taking two big steps forward, engulfing her in a hug.
"I'm sorry, Clarke. I never meant to hurt you. I just – she's my sister." He mutters, even as she squeezes him tight.
"I know. Now come in and let's make a plan."
He does come in. He walks right into her room, as if he wasn't desperately avoiding that only a few seconds ago. He sits himself down on the edge of the bed, swings his pack off his shoulders and sets it down at his feet.
Clarke takes a seat by his side, allows her thigh to press right up against his. She's going to miss these moments of fleeting physical comfort while he's away, so she figures she ought to make the most of them now.
"Whatever you can fit in one small pack isn't going to last you very long while you're gone." She says mildly.
"I know. But I didn't want to take rations other people would need."
She snorts. "You're taking rations. You want to leave without me fighting you on it, you're going to do it properly." She supposes that's half way to emotional blackmail, but in this moment, she doesn't much care. All she wants is for Bellamy to be safe on his travels – or as safe as anyone can be in a nuclear apocalypse, at least.
"Clarke -"
"You're taking a month's worth of rations. For two people. You can hunt while you're looking for your sister, sure. But if you get stranded out there when the death wave comes I want you to have at least some hope of finding shelter and sitting it out."
"I'll never carry all that." He points out, in the tone of someone who thinks he has won an argument.
"That's why you're taking a rover." She concludes neatly.
He starts protesting immediately. "I can't, Clarke. A rover? That's insane."
"It makes perfect sense. We don't need all of them, not really. And you're essential personnel. You need to be safe." He's as essential to the camp as a whole as he is to her, and that's a point she's willing to argue to the bitter end if that's what it takes.
"You're not the Chancellor. I know you've been standing in for Kane a lot but you can't just hand out rovers like it's nothing."
"I can. And I am. I'll argue with him about it once you're gone. But you know he'll accept it – he cares about you, too." That's an implicit confession she didn't mean to make, but she supposes it can't be news to Bellamy at this point that she's top of the list of people who care about him.
"You're really sure about this? I can see that it would be safer but it's a big deal, Clarke."
"I'm sure. And you're taking a radio, too. We should keep in touch while you're gone." She trails off quietly, eyes fixed on her lap.
She feels Bellamy's warm arm reach around her shoulders. "Of course we should. If you think we can spare a radio, I'd definitely want to take one."
She nods. They sit there for a moment, close together, his arm still around her. But in the silence all sorts of unhelpful thoughts start creeping up on her – the realisation that this is really happening, that Bellamy is leaving her, that she might not see him again.
She stands up abruptly.
"I'll get the nightblood serum for your sister and some rations for you. Meet you in the hangar bay?" She offers briskly.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure."
With that, they go their separate ways.
It doesn't take long for Clarke to get the serum, because she's actually allowed in all the medical storerooms and knows the codes. She wonders how Bellamy was planning to deal with that obstacle, and asks herself for the hundredth time within ten minutes why he wouldn't just let her in on his plan. Similarly, she opens the food store up and takes what she calculates is just enough to keep one well-built guy and one slight but strong girl alive for a month – tanks of water as well as packs of food. That's a lot of rations, of course, so she loads them all on a trolley and starts wheeling them towards the rover.
"This is crazy."
That's how Bellamy chooses to greet her when she arrives. She doesn't really bother acknowledging it – she thinks the crazy thing here is not the number of supplies, but him feeling so duty-bound to a sister who hates him, hit him, and left him, that he's about to drive out into the end of the world to look for her. But she knows that wouldn't be a helpful contribution, knows how conflicted Bellamy feels, so she simply makes a start on loading the rover with his rations.
"I can do that." He volunteers at once.
She ignores him again. Loading the rover keeps her at least somewhat distracted, stops her from focusing on her fears for his safety.
They work together to pack the rover, in the end. Bellamy mostly handles the heavy tanks of water, while Clarke loads the food. She throws a couple of soft blankets in there, too. Maybe that's silly, but she likes to think of him having something nice to keep him warm and comfortable at night.
Then it's time for radios. Clarke hands a small portable radio set to Bellamy, then takes a radio for herself, hugs it close to her chest.
"Why are you taking that?" He asks her, apparently puzzled.
"So I can always pick up right away." She explains. "If I have this on me and you have that on you, we should be able to talk whenever we want. Let's pick a channel. No one uses eight." She suggests easily.
He gapes at her. "You're not just stealing me a rover and a radio? You're stealing yourself a radio so we can talk more easily?"
"It makes perfect sense." She tells him robustly. She's not sure who she's trying to convince – himself or her. "I won't just use it to talk to you. While I'm out distributing the nightblood I'll need to check in with my mum and Kane."
"But you're going to leave it on channel eight." He concludes, reading her so easily as he always does.
"Yes." She acknowledges. "You might need me urgently." She knows she's definitely going to need him urgently, from time to time, and he won't be here.
No. She mustn't allow herself to dwell on that.
At last, there are no more errands to manage. Bellamy has transport and food and communication. Clarke has a heavy heart, but she knows she's done all she can. This is why getting attached to people is dangerous, she supposes – she's stolen a great deal of essential supplies tonight and doesn't even feel bad about it.
It makes sense, she tries to tell herself. He's Bellamy. He's essential. And everything he's taken can be replaced, or they can just cope without. He, on the other hand, is irreplaceable, and it's only sensible to do everything she can to try to keep him alive.
Above all, he is not something she can just cope without.
He realises it's time to leave. She can see it in his body language, the lingering looks at her, the furtive looks at the open hangar bay door.
"I should get as far as I can on this battery before the morning."
"Yeah. I'll go tell the night watch you've got permission to be out." Another lie, another rule broken for this man. She wonders if she ought to be keeping count.
There's a pause. And then there's a hug, urgent and firm.
Clarke stays snuggled against Bellamy's chest for a long time. She doesn't want to let go, doesn't want him to leave. But she's also trying to find the words to make one crucial point.
She gathers her courage and whispers against his neck. "I'm only going to say this once, but please just let me say it. You don't have to go. You don't have to do this."
"I do." He insists, firm.
"No, you don't. I understand why you think you do, and I respect that, and that's why I'm here helping you steal a rover. But I just wanted to say that – that you are more than your sister's keeper." She concludes, proud of herself for getting the words out.
He squeezes her tight, one last time. "And you're more than the leader of your people. Now it's time for me to go."
With that, he pulls away. He hops into the driver's seat of the rover, starts up the engine.
Clarke jogs towards the gates to tell them to let him pass. She notices as she does so that she's still wearing pyjamas. Huh. Of course she is – she didn't stop to change when Bellamy tried to flee from her door. But all the same, it's only just now sinking in that she's woefully underprepared for this moment in more ways than one.
She simply isn't ready to say goodbye to him, tonight.
…...
Bellamy has a lot to think about as he drives – too much to think about, in fact. There is no hope tonight of enjoying the simplicity of focusing on the road ahead.
Apart from anything else, he doesn't even know where the road ahead will take him. It's only now he's left Arkadia that he's realising just how little he has planned this. He's got as far as deciding he'll ask around a few of the trading posts and larger villages, see if anyone has heard rumours of Skairipa on the move.
He wonders how it is that both Octavia and Clarke have acquired these horrible, violent epithets – Skairipa and Wanheda. He even considers for a moment that the possibility that he is cursed, somehow. Is he condemning every woman he loves to an horrific fate?
No. That makes no sense. That's just a case of waking night-terrors, and he ought to push it aside.
So that's it. That's a plan, of sorts – drive around, hunt a bit, ask some questions. Great. It's not the worst plan he's ever come up with – it doesn't involve a welding torch and a fiery explosion, for starters.
Plan formed, he finds his thoughts drifting to Clarke. He should have known she would want to help him, he curses. He can't imagine how much he hurt her by lying to her and trying to conceal his escape. He should have realised she would put his mission above her feelings and support him – isn't that what she always does, putting other people first?
It makes him feel like a monster.
He tries not to dwell on that. He tries to focus on the road, aims for that chilled-out state he so often enjoys while driving. He's going to head to Niylah's trading post first. That seems like as good a starting point as any.
No. His mind drifts back to Clarke. To the way she hugged him so tight, told him he was more than his sister's keeper.
No one's ever told him that before.
It made him want to kiss her. He remembers that, a fleeting moment where he was genuinely on the point of pressing his lips to her cheek or even her mouth. But then he thought better of it, decided it wasn't the moment. Apart from anything else, it would have reminded him too much of her leaving him after Mount Weather. He remembers how lost and lonely he felt without her, but hurt and angry too. He wonders if she's feeling like that, now.
Oh God. Of course she must be. What has he done?
It hits him in a cold flood of horror. He's done to her exactly what he so resented her doing to him. He's left her in a difficult situation, left her to cope alone with something they were going to tackle together. He's run off because of his own tangled emotions, rather than sticking around to do right by his partner and his people.
He supposes she'll handle it better than he did. She's Clarke. She won't shoot down three hundred grounders, or support a destructive regime. But he hates to think how she might react instead – turning inwards, as she always does with trauma, trying to cope with everything alone.
That's what makes him pick up the radio. He's done it, now. He's driven through the gates, and there's no turning back. He wouldn't turn back, anyway – he genuinely does feel a strong need to find his sister. But he hopes that if he talks this over with Clarke on the radio, now, he might at least be able to show her he's still with her in spirit.
He's barely been gone a couple of hours. Knowing Clarke, she's still not asleep. He presses the call button, even as he keeps driving into the darkness.
"Clarke?"
She picks up right away. "Bellamy, hey. You OK?" She sounds worried.
"I'm fine. Making good progress. I just – I wanted to talk to you. Everything happened so quickly when I was leaving, there were some things I should have said but didn't."
"OK." She says – less than helpfully, he thinks.
"I'm sorry." He mutters, finding that his throat feels thick with oncoming tears. "I'm so sorry for leaving. I know I'm doing the right thing for me, but I feel like I'm leaving you just like you left me after Mount Weather."
"It's different." She informs him without hesitation. "I was running away, then. But you're not running away. You're running towards something. Towards someone you care about."
"I'm running away from someone I care about, too." He points out sadly.
There's more warmth in her voice as she continues. "Yeah. But – I get it, Bellamy. Your difficult relationship with your sister is not something we're going to be able to fix at a time like this. Find her, stay safe, and then we'll have the rest of our lives to figure it out."
We? We'll have the rest of our lives to figure it out? Does she think that helping him heal his relationship with his sister is her business now, too? Does she think that they are the kind of particularly close friends who support each other through things like that?
It seems like she must do. That's what has him smiling slightly as he continues to speak.
"Thanks, Clarke. And I wanted to say that I'm still here for you. I know I can't help with the practical stuff while I'm gone, but we're still in this together, OK? You'd better call if you need to talk anything over or want a pathetic joke at the end of the day."
"I will. I'll be pestering you all the damn time."
He laughs. That's not something he could have imagined doing, three minutes ago, but Clarke always lifts his mood. "Good. I'm going to miss you."
"I already miss you." She says easily. "Take care. Eyes on the road. I'm going to try to get some sleep now I know you're doing OK."
He learns something, that night. No, it's definitely early morning by now. Either way, he learns something important. It turns out that personal radio calls with Clarke don't feel awkward at all, now. It's as if, amidst all the emotion of his frantic midnight departure, those barriers have broken down and they've allowed themselves to become rather more open about caring for each other.
There are a lot of clouds around, right now. Black rain clouds, probably. But as he thinks back over a comfortable and companionable and downright loving conversation with Clarke, he knows that there is always a silver lining to be found.
…...
Clarke hasn't had much sleep, but she's had some. That's basically the best she could hope for, right now, she thinks.
So it is that, when dawn comes, she rolls out of bed. She knows she needs to get to Kane before word of Bellamy's mysterious midnight errand spreads. She dresses quickly, deciding that she would like to look and feel better prepared for this than she did for the events of last night. She spares a moment to glance at the radio and consider checking in with Bellamy. But she decides that's probably not the best idea – she doesn't know whether he's awake right now, and if he's asleep, she doesn't want to disturb him.
She heads down the hallway to Kane's room, knocks soundly on the door. He emerges in a dressing gown, and she spares a moment to smile just a little. This is the leader of his people, and the man her mother loves. And here he is, still half asleep, clad in worn tartan fleece. He looks every inch the fond stepfather, this morning, with scarcely a trace of the Chancellor he is by day.
"Clarke?" He sounds puzzled. Of course he does – this is a ridiculous time to go around knocking on doors.
"Can I come in? There's something I need to talk to you about."
He gestures for her to enter, and points at a chair. She doesn't choose to sit. She stands instead, squaring herself up to her full height. She can do this.
"Bellamy's gone to look for Octavia. I helped him get out. You shouldn't send anyone to look for him."
Kane frowns. "He's not going to get very far. What if the black rain hits? How will he -"
"He's got a rover. And a month of rations for two people, and a nightblood shot. Oh, and two blankets. I stole all those things for him – he didn't want to take anything."
"You let him go? You equipped him and let him go?"
"I didn't just let him go. I helped him." She says robustly. "It's important to him."
"And he's important to you." Kane concludes.
Clarke nods, wordless, trying not to cry. Tears would look weak right now, she's pretty sure.
"You really stole all those things for him?" She's not sure whether Kane sounds more angry or surprised.
"Yes. If you want to punish anyone, you should shocklash me. But you can't send anyone after him, please. You have to let him go. And it really was me that stole everything, I should pay the price."
Kane frowns ever more deeply. "I'm not shocklashing anyone, Clarke. You should know I've learnt my lesson there. I get it, message received. He's gone, you gave him the equipment. I just hope he stays safe out there."
Clarke is puzzled, now. "You're not angry?"
"Of course I'm not angry." Kane bites out, audibly exasperated. "I'm annoyed he didn't feel he could tell me himself. But I'm more worried about him than anything. And about Octavia, of course. And about how you're going to cope without him."
Clarke nods. She's surprised it turned out like this, but on reflection, perhaps she shouldn't be. Kane has definitely come a long way from the selfish and confrontational man she remembers on the Ark. In fact, now she comes to think of it, she couldn't ask for a better man to be her almost-stepfather.
Her conversation with Kane concluded, she says her goodbyes and moves on to radioing her mother. She heads back to her room to do that, using her own radio set. See – it's not only Bellamy she will speak to, with this.
She's sort of dreading telling her mother. This conversation will not be about logistics, theft or shocklashing. This conversation will be about feelings, she's pretty sure, and Clarke's not ready for that.
Sure enough, that turns out to be the truth. Abby starts off by offering her sympathies, of all things, as if Bellamy were already dead and not just in mortal danger. And then she talks for a while about the solace of keeping in touch over the radio, compares her relationship with Kane to Clarke's relationship with Bellamy as she talks from her personal experience. That makes it even worse, of course, because it reminds Clarke that she and Bellamy have never discussed or defined what they are to each other. So if he dies out there, looking for Octavia, he will die never knowing how Clarke feels about him.
And then comes the most painful moment of all.
"I'll be home soon." Abby promises. "I'm leaving the island in a couple of days and then I'll be home to keep you company. We can support each other like family do." She says softly.
It's supposed to be an encouraging statement – so much is clear. But Clarke isn't encouraged in the slightest. For the first time since she let Bellamy drive out that gate – helped him drive out that gate, in fact – she allows the emotions to rush in.
"He's my family too." She chokes out, tears beginning to flood her cheeks, breathing becoming rather a challenge.
That's how it goes on Earth. You decide someone is your family just as they're leaving you, off to wander into deadly danger. And then they die, more often than not, in Clarke's experience.
She breaks down, sobbing, but without Bellamy here to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.
a/n Thanks for reading! If you like Bellarke fic you might want to go vote in the Bellarke Fic Writer Awards. You can find them on Tumblr or there are links all over Twitter at the mo!