The Monster Within
Chapter 7: [lest we forget]
Clarke came to on the floor of the room she'd shared with Lexa what felt like a lifetime ago. Declan hovered over her, silent and scary, but he was low on her list of priorities at that moment. Her throat was incredibly sore and as she reached for it it throbbed fiercely. Each breath in hurt, her airway constricting like it would much rather refuse the valuable oxygen. Struggling not to gasp for air she forced herself up onto her knees with shaking arms.
"It's time for you to leave." Declan pointed out passionlessly and Clarke nodded, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. The memories of last night came rushing back alongside the pain and it took every ounce of her strength to stand up and get dressed. To his credit Declan kept his eyes on the door until she was decent, then took Clarke by the arm and led her out of the dungeons and back up the stairs to the lobby.
What in reality must've been a short walk seemed to stretch on and on as Clarke's mind spun. She didn't have time to rationalize, only to try to think of something to tell her partner, anything but the truth. Lexa had attacked her, and might've just left her for dead.
The thought stole what little breath she had, threatening to make her hyperventilate, but she batted it back; back into the deep corners of her memories where she kept so many of her past missions. If she could just smile, and pretend everything was alright, then it would be like nothing happened.
She let go of her throat as they reached the top landing, reaching to straighten her clothes and push her hair behind her ears. Despite her best efforts Blake's eyes widened when he saw her, his mouth falling open slightly.
"See you guys next week!" Sam was chipper as she waved them off and Clarke tried her best to look normal.
"Hell of a night." Clarke announced as they left, her voice a ghost of its former self.
"That right? Can't wait to hear all about it." Blake responded in a way that suggested she didn't have much of a choice, opening the passenger door of their SUV for her.
"I don't really want to talk about it..." Clarke answered truthfully, apologetically, and his mouth formed a straight line while his knuckles flexed over the steering wheel. He started to say something and then stopped, taking a few tries before finding the right words.
"I thought we were in this together Griffin. I thought we were partners." He replied quietly as Clarke leaned her head against the window, blankly watching the trees pass by.
"...not now Bellamy." Her answer was barely audible though Blake got the message. Hurt settled into the lines on his face, but he didn't say another word for the rest of the drive home.
—/—/—/—/
"I'm gunna get some rack." Clarke announced as soon as they got through the front door and if it was possible Blake's lips got even thinner.
"Griffin, wait-" He stepped towards her and Clarke subtly moved out of reach.
"What is it Blake? I'm really tired." She didn't meet his gaze and he made a frustrated sound.
"Clarke, are you fucking okay? I just...i care about you alright?" He growled and Clarke forced a smile.
"Thanks Blake. I'm fine, really. Just need some sleep." She lied and he ran both his hands through his hair in response, messing it up entirely as he transferred all his anger to it.
"Alright. Go to bed. We'll talk when you get up." He said sternly and now it was Clarke's turn to sigh.
"I told you, everything's fine. I don't need to talk." She muttered.
"Whatever. Suit yourself." He bit out, spinning away from her and out onto the back porch where he promptly lit a cigarette. Clarke watched him for a moment, then ran for the room they'd been sharing. Throwing all her things into a duffel bag she promptly relocated herself to the guest room, where she locked herself in before falling face down onto the bed. The tears came hot and fast, and she tried to bury them in a pillow, but the memory of Lexa lunging at her was nowhere near as easily put down. For a moment she considering drowning her feelings and herself with the one substance she knew she could count on, but eventually settled for crying herself to sleep instead. It was a pattern that would repeat over and over.
Days later Clarke lay on the couch, watching the rain pelt the French doors. It was pitch dark in Rockland, just far enough from the skyscrapers and lights of the city. She was grateful for the cloak as she shivered in the waning night.
Her foot didn't hurt anymore, or at least she couldn't feel it. She could feel the ache of the bruises on her neck though, and the sting of her abrasions. She was sore, but wanted Lexa again.
Her masters eyes flickered through her mind in quick succession, a flip book of beauty and intimidation. They were light when Lexa teased her, and flat green when she was irritated. They were dark and wild while she fucked Clarke, but then they were swirling and fearsome. Clarke's stomach turned as she remembered the way her master had looked at her. Like she wanted to kill her.
Clarke had seen that look before, in the pockmarked face of Gene Murphy, and the tattooed visage of a gang member on his 3rd strike. They wanted her life, and would have taken it.
Fear gripped her, and she sat up, trying to escape it. Had Lexa lost control with the others as well? Had she taken four lives? Clarke wondered if she should've been the fifth, and the thought sent her spiraling.
Getting to her feet she snatched a cigarette from one of her partners wayward packs and paced across the living room. The thought was there, big and bold, but she refused to touch it.
The case. She had to solve the case. Even if Lexa wasn't just a suspect, even if she was the psychopath.
But Clarke had no idea how she could do it, when she was covered in her, every movement a reminder, every breath full of yearning. Sinking to the floor her eyes burned, the room expanding as water filled her vision.
It already hurt. Her body brimmed with panic, and she choked down sobs as it became even clearer that she would be cut off soon.
There was a monster inside her, but she couldn't tell who it was.
She stayed there until the sky turned red, then walked barefoot out onto the patio.
The trees were as green as they were the day they arrived in Rockland. The suburbs were still serene, the neighbors friendly but distant.
Her loyalties had shifted, but it seemed a natural evolution. Like seed to sapling, she'd twisted upwards in search of the sun. Lexa radiated what she needed.
Holding onto a railing she turned her face upwards. Reality menaced her, it's sharp edges shredding the fantasy she'd built. Even in the face of it she remained weak.
Only a few of her thoughts were clear through the carnage, but, again, the ones that stood out were as hot knives, unfit for human contact.
Turning, she walked back into the house, splashing cold water on her face from the kitchen sink.
She let it drip off, trying to remember who she was.
"Griffin...?" Blake appeared then, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and Clarke tried to get it together. They hadn't really spoken since Thursday, and now she felt awful about it.
"I'm sorry Bellamy..." She whispered, keeping her back to him as her shoulders started to quiver.
"It's okay, trust me I get it." He put his arms around her.
"...thanks." She managed and he held her for a few moments, as long as she would let him.
"...so you're alright? Mentally? ...physically?" He asked her, his lips right by her ear and Clarke nodded, finally pulling away.
"I'll be okay."
"Good. How do you feel about some breakfast?" He suggested and Clarke nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, good idea." She replied, though she was far from hungry.
They got their usual order at the usual spot and Blake dove right in while Clarke pushed her waffles around.
"I think we should do something. Just for us you know? That's got nothing to do with the case." Blake declared, his voice muffled by a huge bite of toast. Clarke looked up.
"Like what?" She asked.
"There's this really cushy country club on the edge of town. Why don't we head down and play a couple holes of golf? Maybe get a nice lunch or whatever?" He suggested hopefully and Clarke nodded, plastering another smile on.
"That sounds good." She replied. He looked pleased, then waved his fork at one of her sausages.
"You gunna eat that?" He asked and she shook her head, giving him the barest outline of a real smile.
"Have at it. I'm done."
After breakfast they hit home to change and Clarke grabbed a few necessaries.
"Mind if we stop at the Wine Cellar?" She asked him on the way out and he gave her a thumbs up, sliding a more expensive than usual pair of sunglasses on.
"Not at all." He replied.
That afternoon she squinted at her partner through her own pair of Ray-Bans.
"Look alive Caroline!" Blake put a hurting on a ball, driving it nearly two hundred yards as they trooped around the Unicorn Golf Course and Country Club, decked out in their yuppie finest.
"I am so alive right now Ethan." She replied, punctuating her words with a swig from a flask she'd filled with the Wine Cellar's finest house brand vodka. He quirked a brow at her but continued on, freeing a 9 iron from her bag and holding it out to her.
"Good. Show me what you got."
Taking the club she tried to focus on her form but quickly gave it up in favor of hitting the tee'd up ball as hard as she possibly could. It went flying, and Blake let loose a low whistle as he watched it go.
"Not bad wifey, not bad at all." He declared and though she knew it was playful Clarke cringed a bit inside. The alcohol was already working to warp things, to distort the everyday and transport her to some other world. It had the desired effect though, as she wanted to be anywhere else after last week.
"Hey let's see if you can bogey this one." Blake excitedly took off toward hole 10 while Clarke brought up the rear.
"Who cares? You're gunna win anyway." She griped, having a sudden change of heart, and his brows furrowed hard in response.
"Since when are you a quitter?"
"Since we started this mission!" Clarke replied in a little too loud of a voice and Blake looked around furtively before leaning toward her and taking her arm.
"Wanna ix-nay the blowing-our-cover-ay?" He hissed and she just shrugged. Blake sighed.
"You know, you're going to have to tell me eventually." He said, pulling out her chipper and exchanging it for the 9 iron, which he had to yank out of her grasp.
"There's nothing to tell." Clarke insisted, moving to square up her shot.
"Uh huh. And now you're gunna tell me little miss first-in-class all of a sudden isn't wildly competitive anymore right? Just like that."
"I never liked golf anyway." Clarke said under her breath as she sank the shot.
"And yet, you always try to beat me..." Blake pointed out, walking backward towards the next hole so he could stare at his partner.
"That's because it's easy. You suck." Clarke countered and he grinned.
"Now that's more like it, Caroline."
Clarke heaved a deep sigh, then took an even deeper swig from her flask that set her throat on fire. For a moment she panicked, remembering the feeling of the morning after Lexa's attack, but the alcohol quickly dispersed it.
"Loser pays for dinner?" She entreated Blake afterward and he took her up on the bet.
"And drinks." He added, whacking another ball into the blue sky.
"Should I get the tomahawk or the t-bone?" Blake mused aloud as they sat in the restaraunt attached to the country club an hour later. He'd handily won, but Clarke couldn't bring herself to care.
"Whatever you want, honey." She replied and he rolled his eyes.
"You know, it's no fun when you're a sore loser." He chided her.
"I'm not. I'll happily pay for drinks." Clarke replied, downing a glass of wine. Blake put down his menu in response.
"You sure you're okay?" He asked again and Clarke reminded herself that she had to be at least somewhat normal, even if it felt like she was dying on the inside.
"Yeah, just, you know—work." She replied truthfully and he gave her a sympathetic look.
"We can talk about it later...if you want to." He promised and Clarke made an effort to switch to water, not wanting to worry him.
"The tomahawk looks really good honestly." She declared when he went back to eyeballing the menu and that seemed to satisfy him. They kept it light and easy for the rest of dinner. Clarke tried to eat her salmon like a regular person despite the lead in her gut.
Even after everything, still she desperately felt the need for Lexa. She'd always wondered about the women who wrote serial killers in prison, the ones who married them, and yet here she was, in love with a murderer.
The thought made her heart clench up like a fist. She had to work to keep her hand from going up to her throat, and to keep her expression neutral.
"Thanks for dinner." Blake rubbed her shoulder as they headed back to the car and she replied with an absent-minded,
"No problem."
When they got home her partner rolled and lit a fat joint that Clarke gratefully puffed on, trying her best to disappear. They sat outside smoking while the sun got low in the sky. Eventually Blake met her gaze, giving her a roguish grin.
"...are you buzzed already or do you want to get some real drinks?" He asked.
"I'm so down." Clarke replied, thinking that she hadn't had nearly enough to reach the bliss of blackout.
"I'll grab an Uber." He whipped out his phone but Clarke stopped him.
"Let's walk. It's nice out."
"Sure." Blake shrugged, more than content to hoof it the few blocks to the Howl. Finishing off his joint he got to his feet, then helped his partner to hers.
On their walk Clarke looked up at the sky, noting the stripe of emerald green wrapping around the buildings in the blend of sunset. She shook her head to clear it of the thoughts that followed, picking up the pace.
"You afraid they're gonna run out of Don Julio or something?" Blake joked, catching up with her and Clarke did her best to get half a smile on.
"Last one in gets the first round." Bellamy doubled down on the speed element and Clarke played along, slipping into the bar just before he could duck in.
"Looks like that's you!" She pointed out in a half-shout as the place was packed. Bodies pressed in from all sides, forcing the agents to choose their words carefully while they bellied up to the bar. The first round disappeared and then a second before Blake managed to get them into a booth in the back, where there were a lot less ears to hear.
"Can I get you guys anything else?" A waitress with dark hair, red streaks, and some seriously smoky eyes inquired as she put down their margaritas. Happily inebriated Clarke shook her head but Blake stepped in.
"Tell you what," He leaned forward to read her nametag. "Ashleigh, how about you bring us a couple of Yuengling's and maybe your phone number." Blake asked and she gave him a look.
"Are you guys like swingers or something?" She giggled nervously and Clarke narrowly avoided choking on her drink.
"That depends. Just how much fun are you looking to have?" He replied smoothly and Clarke kicked him from underneath the table.
"Haha. I'll get those beers right up." Ashleigh's voice went up a few octaves as she disappeared back into the throng and Clarke shot her partner a look.
"There's not enough alcohol on the planet." She announced and was surprised when Blake's face fell in response.
"Come on Griffin I was just messing around. But I get it, you're sensitive right now-" He began and Clarke felt her blood start pumping hard, but managed not to explode at him.
"I'm just-not in the place..."
"I know, I know." Blake replied hastily. "I'm sorry." He added and she took a few deep breaths in and out.
"Okay." She said after a minute and Blake took a long haul of his sugary alcohol concoction.
"You gotta admit she's cute though." He waggled his eyebrows at her and she signed.
"You're not wrong." She conceded, but saying the words made her stomach turn and her mouth go dry. In fact, she felt quite sick in that moment. To her horror she felt her eyes begin to sting and her cheeks start to shake.
"Can I bum a smoke?" She asked querulously and Blake simply held open his pack, then slid a lighter over to her from across the table.
"I'll join you in a minute." He promised and she managed an unsteady "thanks" before taking off for the back patio as fast as she could. The bar wasn't swimming in circles in her vision yet, but it was close.
Bursting out the back door and into the cool air she took great gulps of it before lighting the Marb Red 100 and undoing all the work she'd just done. For a moment she thought of her mother, chastising all the parishioners who smoked, and then remembered that if her mother knew the half of it the cigarettes would be the very last thing on her mind.
"You're so stupid Clarke." She whispered to herself miserably, flattening her palms over her eyes as the smoke enveloped her.
She stayed that way for awhile, and when she looked up again she found that Blake had made it. He leaned against the railing beside her, looking out at the road after he stole his lighter back from her pocket and sparked one.
"...I really don't know if I'll ever do deep cover again...after this..." He announced quietly and Clarke wanted to agree with him, but even more than that she wanted to be back at the Sign, far away from the agency.
"...wanna get out of here?" He asked when they were finished and all Clarke could do was nod.
Blake did get Ashleigh's number on the way out but he seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for the chase. Clarke let him get an Uber for the way home, as things were finally starting to spin after all the alcohol and weed.
"Have a good night man." Blake waved off the driver once they arrived, and they'd just made it past the front door when Clarke began to cry again.
"Come on, out with it Griffin." Her partner said firmly, steering her over to the couch so he could look at her.
"I'm just...so messed up Blake-" She hiccuped.
"Tell me something," He began, tilting her chin up. "When was the last time you popped a perc?" He asked her earnestly and Clarke's mouth fell open.
"What-" She felt panic start to set in but he held her face tightly.
"You think you can keep secrets from me?" He said it in a gentle tone but it still cut her to the core. Shame, dread, fear. All of it bulldozed her and she sobbed, wanting to just fall into a hole in the ground, never to be seen again.
"You know I don't care Griffin, we all have our problems. But, it looks like you beat it. If you can beat that, you can beat anything. How many agents do we know that have gone down for less?" He stroked her face, to which Clarke was still too shocked to pull away. "What I'm trying to say is...don't let this mission bring you down. You're too good for that." He insisted.
Clarke finally met his gaze, and he used that moment to lean forward. She should've known what was happening, but didn't put two and two together until Blake's lips made contact with hers.
"Bellamy!" She snapped away from him like he was on fire and Blake looked equal parts contrite and disappointed as he put his hands on knees.
"Right. You're my partner. My bad." He rasped and Clarke's eyes widened to see that his were wet as he slowly got to his feet.
Wordlessly he strode straight for the back doors, opening them and sliding out into the night like a ghost.
Part of her wanted to follow him, but the stronger part wanted to clench a pillow to her chest and lay there for a while. It felt like an inevitability, just part and parcel of working so closely with someone for so many years, but she also couldn't shake the look on his face from her mind. Her stomach turned again and she let go of the pillow to stumble into her room. For a few minutes she just stared at the window, wobbly as it was to her in that moment, but eventually she slunk to the floor, toward her duffel bag. Dragging it into her lap she watched her own tears fall, vanishing into the thick fabric when they landed. Thud, thud, thud. Each drop was heavy, and the sound of her sniffling scraped against her ears. She unzipped it.
Rummaging around for far too long with the motor skills of a wasted person she eventually came up with what her brain had only semi-consciously been looking for. The slim orange bottle.
On the front it read "Griffith, Clark." An alias of sorts. The Maricopa County Pain Management Center didn't ask her too many questions. A lingering back injury? Sure, here you go. Rolled an ankle on the job? Of course you'll need more. The only thing they cared about was the cold, hard cash that Clarke paid in.
Crawling back into bed she held it in both hands, but she didn't try to open it.
Before she could think about it too much a deep sleep came for her, aided and abetted by the clear and dark spirits she'd mixed all day.
Clarke woke up in the Good Tidings Baptist Church. Her 9 year old self was comforted by the big steepled roof over them as always, and all the posters that told her how much she was loved. She was wearing her favorite dress. It was yellow, with puffy sleeves, and made her feel like a princess. All she needed was a tiara, but her mom wouldn't let her have one for some reason. Briefly, she wondered what her mother's sermon would be about that day, but then turned her attention back to the task before her.
"Here you are sweetheart." An older woman handed her a five dollar bill and she was delighted. She wanted to bring up the most money to Pastor David out of all the kids.
"Okay, gather 'round children." He sat cross-legged on the floor with a big toothy grin after collecting all their offerings.
"For today's Kid's Story we're gunna learn all about that big stone block that God sent down to Moses so he could help everyone know what was right. Does anybody know what I'm talking about?" He asked and a boy named Eli raised his hand.
"The Ten Tommandments?!" He answered and little Clarke nodded sagely. She knew all about those.
"Almost Eli! The Ten Commandments are the laws handed down to us from the Almighty himself. To make it easy for us you see?"
"Yes Pastor David!" The kids chorused and his smile got even wider.
"I'm sure you kids already know but let's go over just a few of them. Let's say you go to your best friends house, and he, or she, has this amazing toy you've always wanted. What would you kids do? Would you just go right up and take it?"
"No Pastor David!"
"That's right. Thou shalt not steal. It's very simple. And we all know the most important one of all don't we?"
A sea of tiny heads nodded while the pianist played a light, innocent tune.
"God made us all in His image, and every one of us is very important to Him. So no matter what anybody tells you, thou shalt not kill..."
His voice echoed in Clarke's head, ringing and crashing around in her skull.
"Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not kill..."
"No!" Clarke jerked awake in her room in Rockland, sweating buckets while her head pounded something awful.
The sun was out, pouring in through the windows, and it made her feel sicker. Her eyes reacted harshly, squinting nearly closed. The strain caused her head and neck to get even tighter, the painful tension sending her into the fetal position as she clutched at her skull.
For the first time in a long time Clarke felt that she was going to throw up, and hard. Turning over, she was attempting to steady her roiling stomach when something rolled into her side. Struggling to see out of the one eye that was partially open she regarded the bottle she fished out from underneath her ribs. Her painkillers stared back at her.
This time she did pry open the cap, fumbling with the child safe lock in her shaking hands until it popped open. Downing two pills dry it was all she could do to close the bottle back up and toss it on the night stand.
—/—/—/—/
"...morning." Blake greeted her hesitantly, walking into the kitchen a few hours later. Clarke sat at the table, deep in her work computer with a pencil between her teeth, though she didn't chomp on it like her partner usually did.
"Morning!" She chirped, not looking away from the computer screen. A notebook lay open in front of her, full of scribbles and hand drawn lines, connecting thoughts and tangents like the strings on a board.
"Listen, about last night..." He started, using the fridge door as a shield while he leaned in to grab some water.
"It's all good Blake. We both had a little too much." She replied and he released a breath.
"Okay. Cool." He said gratefully, then stalked over to watch from over her shoulder.
"Are you...working?" He asked, sounding incredulous, and it was then that she turned to glare at him.
"Watch it mister." She threatened, freeing the pencil from between her lips. Blake put his hands up in a "don't hurt me" gesture, then quirked an eyebrow.
"How are you not hungover?" He asked, chugging three quarters of a water bottle all at once.
"Well, I was. This morning was pretty gross..." She replied, grimacing, and that part was indeed true. Blake took her word for it, checking out her notebook.
"Got anything good?" He asked and she sighed.
"No. Perry hasn't gotten us an update on Kane yet and the rest of this seems pretty run of the mill."
Blake sucked his teeth in response.
"We have to put something together or the Chief's gunna think we're just dicking around out here."
"I know. I think we should go back to Tech Junkies and work from there. The info on our tablets is really outdated." Clarke pointed out and he was in staunch agreement.
"Most of the maps are dead wrong." He added, finishing off the water and crunching the plastic bottle into a barely recognizable shape between his hands.
"...you really think Finn had something to do with his kids disappearance?" Clarke asked after a minute.
"Who knows." He answered after a bit and she went back to throwing herself into her work.
"Want a smoke?" He waved one at her on his way to the back porch and she shook her head, focused. She was back to being invincible. The twitch was gone, replaced by the tell-tale tingling in her fingers and toes. No one could stop her now. Not until the crash anyway, but she didn't want to think about that.
It was nice to be back in loving arms. Since she couldn't have Lexa, it was easily the next best thing. Blake didn't have to know, not this time. She'd make sure of it.
"Let's rock and roll." Said partner reappeared a little while later, followed by a cloud of weed smoke but dressed and otherwise ready to go.
"Alright, gimme a second just let me log off." Clarke shut her laptop down and grabbed her purse and they were on their way.
"Wanna drive?" She asked Blake, just in case, and he happily took the keys.
"Wait, let's take the Audi." He ran back inside for a moment to exchange the SUV keys for the sedan and Clarke just waited impatiently.
"You good?" She asked him as he climbed into the drivers seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel.
"I'm golden." He answered once they were out of the driveway, shifting into high gear and squealing out of their neighborhood.
Unfortunately for the agents they weren't penciled in this time around at the tech repair shop and Blake and Clarke were relegated to the lobby when they got there. While the minutes passed Clarke took in all the refurbished gadgets. Everything glowed with that familiar haze and for a moment she felt alright.
"Hey, everything okay with those tablets?" Raven asked breathlessly, approaching Clarke with her hands stuffed in her back pockets.
"Oh yes, they work fine-" Clarke began and Raven's face took on a confused expression.
"Then what's the problem?" She inquired just as Blake materialized beside Clarke.
"Any way we could talk to you, you know, in private?" He asked her in a stern voice and she gave them a look, chewing on her lip.
"I'm really super busy today..."
"We won't be long, promise." Clarke tried for honey alongside Blake's vinegar and Raven pinched the bridge of her nose in an annoyed fashion but waved the other hand.
"Alright, just for a few minutes then. Follow me."
Closing the office door behind the FBI agents Raven dropped into her seat behind the desk and put her headphones around her neck, holding onto them tightly.
"Soo...what's up?" She asked after a minute and Clarke jumped in before Blake could.
"The tablets have been really helpful, trust me, but is there any other information we'd be able to get access to regarding the club? Clarke asked and Raven shrugged.
"Not really. That's all I have so I don't really know what you want me to do."
Ravens eyes narrowed as she continued,
"All the info I get is from my sources. Obviously I'm not a member so what I have to go on is what they tell me."
"Who are your sources?" Blake demanded and she sighed again.
"Why don't you ask your boss?" She answered a bit testily and Clarke could tell the meeting was going to go south fast if she didn't get it under control.
"Chief Harris did say you'd be our main contact here in Rockland." Clarke supplied.
"Yeah, well he also told me you're on a need to know basis, and you don't need to know who my sources are."
"Says who?" Blake barked, standing up from his chair but Raven wasn't threatened.
"Says me. And I have work to do, so I think we're done here." The girl replied with an air of finality and Clarke had no choice but to get up as well.
"Will you just keep us posted if you come across anything new? Please?" Clarke tried. Raven nodded curtly, then put her headphones on and ignored them while they took their exit.
"Thanks for choosing Tech Junkies." Margeaux called out without looking up from her phone as the agents departed.
Blake's face was dark when they got back into the 5-speed, his expression belying the rage that bubbled just underneath the surface.
"She knows something." He bit out and Clarke looked at him.
"Sure you're not saying that because she wouldn't cooperate with you? And by the way, maybe don't jump down the informant's throat next time." She scolded.
"Nobody reacts like that unless they've got something to hide." He was insistent but Clarke didn't feel like arguing with him. Her head was starting to hurt again and she just wanted to lay down.
"That was a total waste of time." Blake continued to gripe when they got back home so Clarke sucked it up and rebooted her laptop, continuing to work. That meant being forced to see "Woods, L" on her list of persons of interest whenever she clicked through to it, and her heart jumped every time.
"This case blows." Blake announced abruptly at some point while they worked, throwing his pen up at the ceiling with force and then just watching it fall back down.
Clarke kept her head down, trying to ignore him, but he kept spinning around in his computer chair.
"I swear I'd rather be back on pedo detail." He said and Clarke pursed her lips in response.
"No way." She replied quietly. Blake stopped bitching for a moment then.
"At least we get leads with those guys." He said, almost apologetically.
"It's only been a little over a month Blake. When have we ever solved a case this fast? Remember how long the Smith case took?" She asked him, surprisingly rational.
"Yeah you're right. I just feel...stuck." He admitted and Clarke sympathized. A little voice in her head told her to tell him, to spill the beans about the woman that had attacked her, the one that looked like Lexa, but couldn't possibly have been the same person. Fighting the urge she took an aggressive sip of the beer she was nursing.
"How is it...with Finn I mean?" She asked hesitantly, leaning back in her chair. Blake sucked in a breath.
"It's...it just doesn't feel right you know?" He answered just as quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"...I don't know how to explain it." Blake took a long gulp as well, polishing off the bottle. He got up to grab another and instinctively grabbed two, cracking them open and passing one to Clarke. They were both silent for some time, thoughtfully taking down their craft beer, before Blake spoke up again.
"He's just this stupid kid, and he has it all. I've had to work so hard...for everything you know? I put my life on the line out there. For what? So I can drive a Honda in 'real life'? I can't even buy a house. In fucking Arizona."
Clarke looked at him, and knowing all she did about Bellamy Blake it made perfect sense to her.
"I don't even know who my parents are, and he gets the whole world gifted to him by his. It just...sucks. It sucks a lot. And then having to answer to someone like that? Just fucking shoot me already."
"Hmm," Clarke gave a noncommittal reply, letting the sleep screen take over on her computer. "We don't really know what his life's been like either though do we?" She added, thinking of Lexa. She wondered what could cause someone to lose it like that. Was it an accident with the others? Was she a loose cannon?
"Would you just let me complain?" He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands.
"Sorry, keep going." She replied, walking over to muss his hair.
"Thank you." He replied through his fingers. "I just want to find out where I'm from and drive a nice car alright? Is that too much to ask? Maybe a Ducati too."
"Which one?" Clarke asked, the motorcycle calendar he kept in his cubicle coming to mind.
"A Monster obviously. 1200." He replied like she wasn't too bright but she smiled at him anyway.
"That's not too much to ask Bellamy. Maybe after this mission we can start looking again. You know you have a sister. I'm sure we can track her down."
"Yeah. Thanks Griffin." He was sincere this time and Clarke squeezed his shoulder ever so briefly before heading back to her work station.
"Anytime, partner." She said before disappearing into the data bases once more.
—/—/—/—/
The next day both agents were already staring at their laptops when Chief Harris beamed himself in from headquarters. He appeared in the top corner of Clarke's screen and she pulled Blake over immediately, her nerves ratcheting up to 11.
"Good morning Agents Blake and Griffin." He greeted, his words not quite lining up with his mouth as Clarke full screened him.
"Good morning Sir." They both responded dutifully.
"What's the latest on the case?" He got right to business, leaving them no time to get their thoughts together before putting them on the spot.
"Well, uh," Blake began before Clarke cut him off.
"Not much has changed Sir." She answered. It wasn't true, but she wasn't about to tell the Chief anything just yet.
Chief Harris' eyebrows stitched together and a look of weary disappointment set in.
"So neither of you have anything to report?" He asked and Blake swallowed.
"Well, we have run into some communication problems with our contact down here, Raven Reyes." Agent Bellamy supplied and Clarke had to force herself not to hit him from under the table.
"How's that?" The Chief barked and Blake plowed ahead.
"We got...let's say, outdated, information from her when the mission kicked off. Now she's claiming she doesn't have anything else for us. I don't trust her Chief." He said, inspiring Clarke to want to punch him all over again.
"Reyes has been working with us on this case for several years now Agent, I'm gunna need a little more than a gut feeling to go after one of our only ins to this place. We'd be hard pressed to find any one to give us even a fraction of what she has."
"I understand that-" He started but Chief Harris cut him off.
"I don't think you do Blake. The first murder occurred back in 2012. We haven't gotten anything worthwhile on the place since then. I sent you two because I firmly believe you're capable of making progress here and bringing some justice to those families. Am I wrong?"
"No, Sir." They replied at the same time and the Chief grilled them for a moment longer, his face flickering under the wi-fi connection.
"I need you both to focus on the club members. Any information you can glean will help the psych guys come up with evaluations and we can start matching some profiles. I want a written record of everyone you've interacted with so far and what they're like. Looks, habits, demeanor. The whole nine. And I want it on my desk by the end of the month. Is that clear?"
"Crystal." Blake muttered in response while Clarke nodded curtly, though her heart had started doing cartwheels in her chest at his words.
"Good. Hang in there. I'll check in periodically."
"Got it." Clarke replied. She kept her tone brusque, hoping she looked focused as always.
"Roger that. We'll keep working." Blake chimed in right as the connection split up and they were left with just pieces of the Chief's scowling face until it disconnected entirely.
"Did you really have to bring up Raven?" Clarke poked him and Blake grabbed his arm as if it'd actually hurt.
"I'm telling you she's not being upfront with us. I'd stake my badge on it."
"That's fine. Let's just keep it to ourselves next time maybe? You know Harris hates it when you go off half-cocked."
"Duly noted." Blake grumbled a response, relighting a joint from earlier. The acrid scent filled the room, but she took it when he passed it to her, trying to keep the climbing nausea at bay. Her brain knew it had been precisely 27 hours and her body was starting to feel it.
"Here we go again." Clarke got back to work, as did Blake, and all was quiet save for the clicking of their keyboards and the classic rock station Blake had playing in the background.
"What'll it be this time?" Blake glanced over his phone at her from his position splayed out on the couch hours later. Night had fallen, and the dulcet tones of Alex Trebek rolled over them both while they relaxed. Or at least, tried to.
"How do you feel about pizza?" She suggested after a minute. She'd been smoking with him all afternoon trying to stave off the inevitable withdrawal, a strategy that seemed like it might be working. The only side effect was being on their third grubhub order of the day.
"Sounds good." Blake alternated between picking a pizza place and making faces at the contestants before them.
"The fuck kind of category is that anyway?" He asked regarding "Song Title Math" and Clarke just shrugged.
"Don't ask me. Ask Alex."
"He doesn't make the categories Griffin. What do you want? Cheese?"
"Pepperoni. And a Coke." She answered and he sighed.
"You're SOL. They're a Pepsi place."
"Well fuck." Clarke replied and they both disintegrated into giggles for a minute before she spoke up again. "Get me whatever isn't Pepsi."
"Banana Fanta it is." He announced and she put forth the necessary energy to lightly shove him with her foot.
"Don't even think about it." She warned. He tapped his screen a few more times with a grin and Clarke narrowed her eyes as he declared,
"Alright, order's placed. 45 minutes."
The agents wolfed their pizza when it arrived and all was swell, with Clarke even receiving an acceptable soda, until Blake leaned back. He folded his hands behind his head and looked at his partner.
"What if we're looking at a team? Instead of a single individual?" He posited.
"I guess that's a possibility..." She hedged around the question, turning Jeopardy up a little bit.
"Finn and Lexa have a working relationship. He's got two missing kids, a history of violence. What if she's covering for him?"
"You think Finn-is violent?" Clarke met his gaze then, knowing they both could read the young millionaire fairly well.
"He's got an assault charge."
"Yeah, from high school." Clarke pointed out. "If I remember right, you got in lots of fights in high school."
"That's not the point." He snapped and Clarke turned the tv up a few more notches, hoping he'd drop it, but Blake would not be deterred.
"Listen I never kidnapped anyone. How do you think his girlfriend felt when she had to file those charges? And she's still missing too."
"Finn Collins isn't a cold blooded killer."
"Something happened to his family."
"And how do we know he had anything to do with it? It's not like we can question him. The PD didn't have enough to charge him with anything after the fact." Clarke replied, starting to get exasperated. She was also starting to feel sick. A very familiar sort of sickness she hadn't felt since they'd come to Washington.
"Alright well what about Lexa? She roughs you up pretty good. How do we know she's not the one?"
Clarke's heart started to race both from the lack of opiates and the mention of Lexa's name. It brought the memories of last week crashing back, contributing to her lightheadedness.
"It's a BDSM club Blake, of course she does. That's what people join up for isn't it?" Now it was Clarke's turn to snap and Blake could tell he'd hit a nerve.
"Look, I know you're...into her or whatever but we have to be realistic here-"
"Yeah, and realistically, we have no motives and next to nothing to go on. What are you saying we do? Interrogate our sponsors? We'd be kicked out in two seconds. And then all this work will be for nothing."
"You know I'm not saying that-"
"Excuse me." Clarke got up abruptly, making a beeline for the upstairs bathroom. She threw up, then just kneeled there for a while, trapped in a vortex of her own self-hatred. When she did manage to get to her feet she turned the sink on high. With shaking hands she brushed her teeth and rinsed her face. As she toweled her chin dry her eyes caught on the bruises around her neck, just starting to turn green and yellow around the edges. Pushing into them with her fingertips she found that they were only a little sore by then. They were nothing like the bruises Lexa normally left, which would burn sweetly for a day or two, turning blue at best, but usually just a light shade of purple before fading away. These were angry, and black inside. Clarke felt her stomach drop and she was almost ill again.
Forcing herself to stop thinking about it she headed back downstairs. Curling up into a ball on her side by Blake it was all she could do not to whimper aloud.
"...you alright?" He asked.
"I think I just smoked too much." She whispered in response. He sighed, reaching out to rub her back in small circles.
"You really gotta take it easy Griffin..."
—/—/—/—/
Clarke tried to follow his advice over the course of the new few days, but as Wednesday approached she found herself shorter and shorter on ease. By Monday morning she was a wreck, and Blake took notice.
"...you haven't eaten in two days." He pointed out gruffly while she stared into the depths of her coffee. Dark clouds had gathered outside their home, taking root in his partner as well.
"We both know it's a federal crime to let pizza go to waste." He added when she didn't reply right away.
"I'm not hungry." Clarke supplied after a little while and he dropped his chin onto his crossed arms from his position at the breakfast nook.
"Why not?" He demanded.
"...just not..." She said emptily, not looking up from the long cold mug of dark roast.
"I've never known you to bail on a tough case Griffin." He put his fist down hard on the table and then she did meet his eyes. Sliding off the bench Blake walked over to her and knelt down, squeezing her thigh and trying to shake her out of it.
"You want this to ruin your whole career?" He asked seriously and she sucked in a breath.
"No." Her answer came out weak, like her chin was at that moment, and she might've broken down entirely if her phone hadn't rang. With her heart in her throat Clarke left for the living room to answer it.
"Hello, I'm looking for Caroline Forrester?"
Sam's voice came through the other side and Clarke's voice trembled while she answered,
"S-speaking."
"Hi Caroline, I'm just calling to inform you that Miss Woods has decided to cancel your upcoming meeting on Wednesday. Had something come up apparently."
"Oh. Okay." Clarke released a long breath, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It was momentary however, quickly replaced by desperation.
"She'll still be here for this weekend's event however. Will you and Ethan be attending as well?"
Clarke hesitated, unable to think past the roaring of her own heartbeat in her ears. Part of her wanted to just end it, to slink back to Phoenix and let the withdrawal process begin, but there was one thing she wanted more. She wanted to see Lexa again. She needed to.
"Mrs. Forrester? Are you still there?"
"Yes." Clarke answered, her voice breathless. "And yes my husband and I will be there."
"Great. See you guys on Saturday morning then. Take care." Sam hung up and Clarke sank into a seat on the couch, her pulse still going a mile a minute.
"Here." Blake handed her her mug of coffee, only he'd refilled it with hot brew and fixed it up just the way she liked it.
"Thank you." She managed, and he looked down at her.
"Who was that?"
"Sam. Lexa canceled for Wednesday." Clarke replied, her sponsors name catching in her throat.
"Oh. Wonder why?" Blake asked aloud, looking down at his own phone with a hopeful expression but it didn't ring.
"There's another event," Clarke continued, her voice sounding robotic to her own ears. "I told her we'd be there for it."
"So, you're not giving up then?" His eyes lit up and she finally looked him full in the face.
"Not yet."
"I knew you had it in you." He replied. "Now don't make me force feed you Griffin..." He pointed out sternly but Clarke just held onto her mug with both hands.
"Coffee is fine for now."
He glared at her but sighed in defeat.
"Fine, let's get to work."
—/—/—/—/
tbc
thank you for reading!