a/n Here's some soulmate fluff set in S1-2. Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing this as always. Happy reading!
Bellamy thinks he knows everything there is to know about how soulmates work. Those words printed on the inside of his right forearm – they're the first words his soulmate will ever say to him. And his soulmate will have his first words to them printed on their arm, too. And then they'll realise that they're soulmates, and fall into each other's arms, and live happily ever after, more or less.
Sometimes it doesn't quite work out like that, of course. His father was his mother's soulmate, but they didn't exactly get their happy ending – he was a rebel against council rule, and was floated not long after Bellamy's birth. And after that, inconsolable, his mother took up with lover after lover and ended up bearing an illegal second child. So, yeah, soulmates are not quite a guarantee of a long and happy life together – but they're as near as can be, and they're one of the few bright spots in the fairly bland existence on the Ark.
Bellamy has more or less decided that he will never meet his soulmate by now. That happens to people, occasionally, presumably when their soulmate dies before they can meet each other. He's twenty-three, which is pretty old not to have found them. More than that, he thinks he's spoken to pretty much everyone on his station by now and no one has greeted him with the words "Stop! The air could be toxic!"
It's an odd soulmate quote, he thinks. He cannot even conceive of a situation in which anyone would say that. Is he perhaps destined to join the same rebel cause as his father and sabotage the oxygen system? But why the word toxic? That doesn't quite fit with that theory.
He still hasn't made sense of his soulmate quote by the time he finds himself stowing away on a dropship bound for Earth. If he had time to sit around and think about it, he might wonder if there was more chance of encountering toxic air where he's going. But he doesn't exactly have the leisure to explore that idea, because he has a Chancellor to shoot and a little sister to protect.
The landing is rough, and Bellamy takes advantage of that. He steps up to the door, ready to present himself as the leader of this bunch of misfit criminals. That will help him to protect his sister, he figures, as well as himself. He's on the point of opening the door when he hears the voice.
"Stop! The air could be toxic!"
That's it. That's her. A female voice, bright and determined. He can hear his heart hammering in his ears, can feel his tongue shaping a response almost without thought. That's how it works, he's heard – the first words you say to your soulmate are basically subconsciously programmed all along.
He spins round to take a good look at her. He wants to see her as he replies, wants to be looking into her eyes at the moment she realises they are fated to be together.
But then he sees who she is. He recognises her face, even if he couldn't quite place the voice. That's Clarke Griffin, daughter of a councilwoman and a high-ranking engineer. He bristles in shock and disappointment and anger. Who does she think she is, bossing him around as if she's in charge round here? This isn't the Ark. Her status will earn her no privileges on the ground.
And her status as his soulmate? That will most definitely earn her nothing.
She's not his soulmate. She can't be. He decides, there and then, in the heat of the moment, that he wants nothing to do with an Alpha station brat who thinks she can tell him what to do. He's done with the Ark establishment – they have brought him nothing but pain, in his life to date.
He's not going to say the words that are on the tip of his tongue. He's not going to tell her that if the air is toxic they're all dead anyway. The words want to spill out of him, but he simply won't let that happen.
He bites down on his tongue, hard, and opens the door in silence.
It's all a blur after that, kids pouring out of the doors, Octavia finding him and demanding a hug. He sidles up to a couple of the more angry-looking boys and asks them to support his regime. He wonders what to do about food, but makes a great show of complete unconcern.
And yet through all that blur, one young woman always stands out, her blonde hair and blue eyes catching his attention wherever he looks.
…...
Bellamy stands firm by his decision to renounce his bond with Clarke. He can't have her challenging him or trying to take power – leading this camp is the only way he can guarantee his sister's safety and his own, too. And anyway, she's not a very likeable young woman, is she? All that attitude and fire and being so confrontational all the time. It's a bit annoying, really.
If she wants to go to Mount Weather, let her go to Mount Weather. Maybe she'll fall off a cliff and die and save him the trouble of wondering how his life might have turned out, if only he said the words.
…...
The worst thing is, it takes him less than forty-eight hours to figure out why Clarke is his soulmate. He noticed she was hot right away, of course, but that he was ready to ignore. What's harder to overlook is her courage and her determination to care about everyone and that uncanny ability she has to make him smile.
He's not smiled very much, since they floated his mother. He thinks he might like to do it more often. And he certainly thinks it could be a good thing to have someone in his life brave enough to care about him. He knows he's always had a bit of a thing about taking care of others, ever since his sister was born and his mother made it clear that she was his responsibility, but he's starting to think it might be kind of lovely to get a decent night's sleep in a warm bed with Clarke's arms cradling him against her chest.
No. That thought has no place here. And he really ought to stop staring at her lips.
"You OK?" She asks him softly, face somewhere between frowning and concerned.
"Yeah. Yeah, fine. You were saying?"
The concern drops from her face, and he misses it, as she gets back into combat mode. "You need to send water teams out more regularly. It's been hot today and we don't need the kids getting dehydrated."
"I need to, huh?" He's arguing with her for the sake of arguing, because he must remind herself that she's his enemy, not his lover.
"Yes. You need to. Otherwise we'll all be dead." She pauses, frowns ever harder. "I can do it, if you've got too much on with the -"
"I got this, Princess. I think I can send out a water team or two."
With that, he marches off, tugging his jacket sleeve firmly down over his soulmate quote as he goes. She's right – it's hot today. But no way can he risk taking this jacket off and revealing the truth.
…...
He learns to live with it, in the weeks that follow. He ties a scrap of cloth around his forearm so he doesn't have to keep the jacket on all the damn time. Learning to live with Clarke is harder, and involves distracting himself quite a lot with other girls, but he manages to keep his distance from her, more or less.
He manages it until the day she invites him to the supply depot.
He can't say no – she'd figure out something was wrong. But more than anything else, he doesn't want to say no. He doesn't want Clarke for a soulmate, of course he doesn't. She's a Princess, and they're from different worlds, and she annoys him like an almost physical thorn in his side. But if he's determined to go the rest of his life without her, he kind of wants to spend this one day with her first. Maybe to get her out of his system, or maybe to know what he's missing out on, or maybe a little bit of both.
He understands he's made a mistake when he tries to teach her how to shoot. He should have realised he could never manage a whole day in her presence without his attraction to her getting the better of him.
He flees, confused, aroused and high, into an horrific nightmare of visions and guilt and grief. Dax comes for him, and dies, and it's all a bit of a blur.
And then the real trouble begins.
"You're OK." Clarke tells him, and he finds himself reminded of that completely foolish dream he has, of finding comfort in her arms.
He brushes that aside, angry with himself. "No, I'm not. My mother – if she knew what I've done, who I am... She raised me to be better, to be good. And all I do is hurt people. I'm a monster."
The words are out there, now, and he cannot take them back. Just a couple of short sentences, but he thinks he has never been so open about his emotions with anyone in his life.
The thing is, he knows Clarke will have the perfect response. She's his soulmate, after all.
She looks across at him, eyes soft. "Hey, you saved my life today. You may be a total ass half the time, but I need you." His breath catches at that. He's beginning to think he might need her, too, however much he wishes it were otherwise. "We all need you. None of us would've survived this place if it wasn't for you. You want forgiveness, fine, I'll give it to you. You're forgiven, OK, but you can't run, Bellamy. You have to come back with me. You have to face it."
He wants to ask whether she'll be there to help him face it, but he doesn't, in the end. Partly because he doesn't dare to, doesn't have the courage to give voice to his need for her like that, but largely because he already knows the answer. They're sticking together, because that's what soulmates do.
…...
He reaches an odd kind of compromise with himself, after that. He still doesn't embrace Clarke as his soulmate, or remove the rag from around his arm, because he maintains that they are from different worlds and that they are simply not meant to be together – fate must have made a mistake.
But he stops pretending to himself that he finds her good sense and confidence and caring nature annoying. He allows himself to spend a little time in her presence, and to smile at her when it seems appropriate to do so.
He allows himself to worry about her when she gets sick. He doesn't always do a good job of it – sometimes his concern for his sister gets in the way. And he's still learning how to be Clarke's friend, how to care about her without letting slip the secret of the words imprinted on his arm.
He falls sick himself, too. It's unpleasant to say the least – he feels weak and kind of gross and he's worried about how the kids will cope while he's laid low.
But then he wakes to Clarke's soft touch as she smooths hair back from his brow and offers him some water. He accepts her help, dazed. This feels like one of those dreams of his – except that he never felt like death warmed up, in those dreams. And there's nothing sexual or even cuddly about this at all – she's just being kind.
She's being kind to him like she's kind to everyone, not because he's her soulmate.
"You feeling better?" He asks her, trying not to sound like her health is of any particular concern to him.
"Yeah."
"That's good."
He holds her gaze for a moment, smiles a smile that is almost certainly too warm. He probably has dried blood all over his face and he definitely tastes stale vomit on his breath and anyway, he doesn't want her for a soulmate, so none of this even matters.
He shakes his head a little, annoyed at his own weakness, and gets back to discussing camp business with her.
…...
He doesn't want Clarke for a soulmate.
But he misses her when she's gone, when she might be dead. He's desperate to find her, but desperate to do things the way she would have wanted them done – no civilian casualties, for starters. He misses her, and he wants to live up to her memory, and he wants, just for now, to see if he could learn to be the kind of man who might be good enough for her.
But he doesn't want her for a soulmate.
The two things are compatible. Really, they are. It just takes a bit of effort, sometimes, to remember that they are from different worlds.
…...
He wants Clarke for a soulmate.
He realises it, very abruptly, the moment she flies into his arms, warm and solid and alive. The revelation shocks him into stunned stillness for a second, and it takes him a heartbeat too long to hug her back. But then he does return the embrace, holding her tight, rocking her slightly and breathing in the much-missed scent of her.
She's his soulmate, and she's alive, and they might get their happy ending yet.
He brushes that thought aside. He can worry about how on Earth to tell Clarke what he's been hiding from her all along another time, when their people aren't in immediate danger. Clarke seems to sense the urgency, too, pulling away from his arms and looking at him with eager questions in her eyes. They're good at reading each other's mood like that, he notes. They might have come from very different worlds originally, but they have most definitely come together here on planet Earth.
"How many are with you?" He asks.
"None. Where's Finn?" His heart sinks at the mention of Finn – partly because he let the boy wander around out there with a gun, but largely because he doesn't much like to hear his soulmate asking after her former lover. He knows it's not a big deal, that no passing fancy can compete with a soulmate bond, but it hurts all the same.
He forces himself to meet her eyes. "Looking for you."
They need to get started on finding their friends. He can decide how to tell her about the words on his arm later.
…...
He still hasn't told her about his soulmate quote by the time they arrive at TonDC a week later. It's not that he's been putting it off, as such. It's more that there is always something else more pressing to say, some urgent issue to deal with in the name of saving their people.
OK, sure, he might have been putting it off a little bit. How is he supposed to go about telling his soulmate that he didn't want her, at first? That he's been hiding something from her all this time?
That being in love with her scares him, more than anything has ever scared him in his life before?
He might tell her tonight, he decides. They have attended Finn's funeral, and that might offer her some closure. The attack on Mount Weather is on hold until they come up with a plan, seeing as Clarke told him she didn't want him to head in there alone. So tonight might be a good opportunity to ask for a moment of her time to talk. And then he thinks he'll just push up the sleeve of his jacket and let her work it out – he's not sure he'll be capable of forming actual words, if it comes down to it.
He never does get the chance to ask her for that moment. She sends him into the Mountain with scarcely a good luck wish to see him on his way. She doesn't know he's her soulmate, he reminds himself. She doesn't know, because he refused to say the words all those weeks ago.
But it turns out that being sent into danger by his soulmate is a pretty painful experience.
…...
They work it out – how to take down the Mountain, and how to fix their friendship, more or less. He doesn't hold it against her that she sent him into danger – he can't, because he's far too in love with her to manage it.
And now they're walking back to Camp Jaha, and Bellamy is looking forward to the future. They have peace, now, and time to heal. There will be a million moments for him to beg a second of Clarke's time and show her the words on his arm.
But then she doesn't want to walk through the gate.
"I'm not going in." She tells him, firm, not to be argued with.
He tries to argue anyway – arguing is something they've always done well, after all. "Look. If you need forgiveness, I'll give that to you. You're forgiven. Please come inside."
"Take care of them for me." She begs, beginning to tear up.
"Clarke -"
"No. Seeing their faces every day is just going to remind me of what I did to get them here."
"What we did. You don't have to do this alone."
He steels his courage. These are certainly not the circumstances he planned on doing this in, but he doesn't see that he has a choice. He refuses to let her walk out of his life.
He pulls up the sleeve of his borrowed jacket. Under it, a rag is tied around his forearm as ever.
"Bellamy?" She sounds confused, and he doesn't blame her.
"I need to show you something." He murmurs, pulls the rag aside, revealing the words to the world for the first time in weeks.
She stares at the quote in rapt silence for several long seconds. He risks a glance at her face, finds that she's crying quietly. Damn it. He didn't mean to make her cry. Should he offer her a hug? Should he -?
"I didn't know." She gasps. "I wondered, when I told you not to open the door. It was like I've heard people say, you know, about how instinct takes over and you don't know what you're saying? And it was the only time I could ever imagine having a conversation about toxic air. But then you didn't say anything, and I – I -"
She breaks then, subsides into heaving sobs. He's glad of it, in a strange kind of way. All this cold, strong silence is not good for anyone, he's pretty sure. He wants her to let it all out, to cry in his arms and let herself process everything that's happened to them, these last couple of months. That's more or less what he did, that night he sat beneath the tree at the end of their day trip and he first realised she would make a phenomenal soulmate, if only he would let himself love her. He certainly felt better for letting it all out, then, and he hopes he might help her to let it all out now.
He engulfs her in a tight hug, holds her close as she cries. His borrowed uniform is growing wet with warm tears, but he doesn't much mind. He can change his shirt after this, but he could never change his soulmate.
"If the air's toxic, we're all dead anyway." He whispers to her. It's hardly a conventional way of comforting someone who's in tears, but he figures he needs to say it sooner or later.
She gives a wet chuckle, burrows deeper into his chest.
"I wasn't ready then." He says, because it's more or less the closest he can come to explaining the tangle of emotions that made him bite his tongue that day. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you or make you doubt me. Or make you doubt yourself. I wasn't ready then, but I'm ready now."
She steps back from the hug, but keeps hold of his hand. And then she looks him right in the eye, smiling a tentative smile. "Me, too. I'm ready to come home and face my problems."
He smiles back at her, proud. That's what she asked him to do, all those weeks ago, and that's what he's going to help her to do now.
"I love you." He tells her. It feels so right to say it, almost as instinctive as those words about the toxic air he repressed right back at the beginning of their story.
"I know." She grins. "I've got a quote on my arm to prove it."
He laughs, squeezes her hand. She always has had this talent for lifting his mood.
"I love you, too." She says firmly. "Now are you going to kiss me, or did you think we were platonic soulmates?"
He laughs a little more even as he steps closer to her. He keeps hold of her hand, but takes his other hand to cup the back of her head. He's nervous, aware of the onlookers, aware of the magnitude of this moment. His eyes flicker down to her lips, then back up to meet her gaze.
And then he kisses her. It's possibly the most long-overdue kiss in the history of soulmates, he suspects, but he's altogether too happy to care. Her lips are soft and warm yet determined – just as she is soft and warm yet determined, he spares a moment to think – and they feel perfect against his own.
Everything about this kiss feels perfect, in fact, but he pulls away after a couple of minutes to lead her back into camp. They can't stay out here all day – they have a happy ending waiting for them at home.
a/n Thanks for reading!