a/n Thank you to those lovely people who reviewed the last chapter. Here's a slightly longer chapter of this that I wrote instead of Child of our Time because I'm easily distracted. Happy reading!
Clarke hates herself a little, the following morning. She hates herself for being so weak, and softening so quickly, and giving in to her need to be near to him. She hates herself for knowing that her forgiveness can be bought so cheaply, for the fact that, it seems, a game of chess, a few pretty words, and a sleepless night are all it takes for her to go running back into his arms.
She doesn't hate herself, though, as much as she loves Bellamy. For being there for her, even when she thought she didn't want him to be. For not asking too much of her, nor posing questions she isn't ready to answer. For the look in his eyes, as he wakes up and cranes his neck to meet her gaze, that tells her he understands. That he gets it, and he knows that falling into their bed when she was panicky and exhausted does not, in fact, mean that he is entirely forgiven.
"Morning." She greets him, voice less than warm but not quite cold.
"Am I allowed to speak now?" He asks softly.
"Yeah." She nods, settles herself back against his chest, and prepares herself for an inquisition.
It never comes.
"Morning." He greets her in turn, arms relaxing far enough for her to pull away, if she wishes.
She does not wish. "Thanks. For being here for me last night."
"Any time." He murmurs. He takes a hesitant breath, strokes her hair a little. Then apparently decides against saying whatever it was he was about to say.
"We should get going." She suggests, exhausted though she still is after so little sleep. "I was thinking that we should go meet with Octavia. Together. To talk over what the plan is with – with Madi."
"Yeah. OK." He agrees quietly, but makes no attempt to move.
She supposes she is still half on top of him. She forces herself to let go of him, to sit up and move towards the edge of the bed. To stand up, and start looking for some clothes. He's not going anywhere, she reminds herself. He'll be here to hold again, tonight, and the next night, and the next.
…...
Madi is overjoyed, and relieved beyond belief, when she sees her parents emerge from their room together that morning.
Then she observes the dark shadows under her mother's eyes, the weary sorrow in her father's gaze, the polite distance between them as they walk into the kitchen, and she realises that, perhaps, her relief is a little premature.
All the same, she figures she may as well try for a cheerful family breakfast. She greets each of them with a hug, and gestures to the table.
"I put some fruit out. I haven't started on the porridge, though. And Gus is still asleep."
"I'll go get him." Clarke says, with something approaching a smile, and Madi sighs in relief to see her mother behaving vaguely like her normal toddler-loving self again. "I seem to remember your father's better at making porridge than I am."
She so badly wants to ask Bellamy how things lie between him and Clarke, as they stand and prepare the food together in heavy silence. But she knows that she probably shouldn't, senses that it might hurt him to talk about it. Has a suspicion, too, that he doesn't entirely know the answer to any question she might ask about the state of her parents' relationship.
She thinks it might be none of her business, as well. Or maybe, she wonders, it is her business, if it affects her taking the flame.
Anyway, she may be a child, but she has enough tact to realise that this is no time to pester either of them with questions. Clarke has returned, now, Gus perched on her hip, chuntering cheerfully away as he points at the breakfast table, and to his sister, and to his father, all with, it appears, equal enthusiasm.
Bellamy cracks a smile at that, his first true smile of the morning. "Good to know my son is as excited about a bowl of berries as he is to see his dad."
Clarke lets out a grudging laugh, and Madi finds herself sorely tempted to lock them in the house together until they start behaving normally.
"Do you want to sit him down?" Madi gestures at her little brother's place at the table, the special chair that Bellamy made quite some months ago.
"Yeah." Clarke sets Gus in his seat with evident relief. "He's getting a bit heavy, aren't you, baby boy?"
Bellamy is still hovering by the stove, smiling indulgently at the two of them fussing over the toddler, Madi notes. She supposes she had better do something to encourage him to join the party.
"Is the porridge ready, Bellamy? I'm hungry. Can we sit down and eat?"
"Sure we can, Madi. Here." He deposits the pan on the table, gestures to her to help herself. Takes his usual seat, leaving Clarke the space between him and Gus.
They occupy themselves for a few moments with the tasks of serving and eating the food, exchanging polite requests to pass this or that across the table. And Madi doesn't want to ruin the relative peace, really she doesn't, but she needs to have some clue what's going on, she thinks.
"Clarke? Bellamy? Can I ask what's happening?"
There is a heartbeat of silence. Bellamy swallows with visible difficulty, then speaks, with great care.
"You might have to be more specific than that, Madi."
She shakes herself, realises how that sounded. She's going to have to do better than this if she's going to be a competent commander, she frets. "Can I ask what the plan is about – about the flame? Are we going ahead with that?"
"You're the one who insisted on it." Clarke reminds her, in a tone she cannot quite read.
"Yeah. Yeah, I want to do it. I was just wondering whether you'd agreed to it, and how we're doing it."
Another pause.
"I've agreed to it." Clarke says heavily. Bellamy is looking at her as if this is, actually, news to him, and Madi despairs anew at this unnecessary miscommunication.
"We're going to go talk it over with Octavia this morning." He offers, still looking somewhat dazed.
"Can I come?" Madi asks, feeding Gus a spoonful of porridge and trying not to sound too hopeful.
"I'm not sure about that." Clarke says, in a tone that suggests that she is sure, and the answer is a no. "I was hoping you might take Gus with you and go see Harper?"
"So you want me out of the way while you decide my fate without me?" She feels her indignation rising.
"That's not it, Madi." Bellamy explains quietly. "This is already a difficult situation for your mum and me, as I'm sure you've noticed. I think we need to talk it over with Octavia before we complicate things any further."
"OK." She can agree to it, actually, when he puts it like that.
"Thank you." Clarke murmurs, and Madi is not quite sure who she is actually thanking.
They return to eating their breakfast for a few moments. Gus throws a blackberry at the wall, but no one seems to think this is of any great concern, given the circumstances.
"Can I ask you a question?" Madi turns to her mother, when she has gathered enough courage.
"Yes." Clarke does not appear keen to agree with the request.
"What's it like, having the flame in your head?"
Her mother gasps in shock at that, and Madi finds herself the subject of a reproachful glare from Bellamy.
"I can't quite describe it." Clarke begins after taking a moment to collect herself. "It's frightening, of course, and confusing. I remember seeing so many things and not understanding what they all were and why I could see them. And I remember fear, and anger. But for me there was also a sense that it was protecting me, somehow. And – and Lexa, or what the flame held of her, helped me feel safe."
"So it's a mix of good and bad?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'd say so."
She pauses, purses her lips a little. Gazes, enraptured, at the worn table cloth.
"It was easier for me because your dad was there." Clarke whispers tearfully, talking about Bellamy as if he isn't even present. "He was there with me, the whole time, and – and between knowing Lexa was in the flame with me and Bellamy was in the real world with me, I did OK."
So, on the one hand, Madi would much rather her mother wasn't weeping at the breakfast table. But when she sees Bellamy reach out across the space between them, and cover Clarke's fingers with his own, she can't help but feel that, perhaps, this particular conversation has done more good than harm.
…..
Emori does not make a habit of interfering in other people's lives. She is, by and large, all too content to leave her acquaintances to do their thing while she minds her own business, having as she does rather extensive experience of people interfering in her life over the shape of her hand. But, just once in a while, an occasion arises where it is, she thinks, necessary to gossip a little for the sake of the greater good. This morning, for example, on her way between the home she shares with John and the workshop she shares with Raven, she is confronted by a most gossip-worthy sight.
Bellamy and Clarke are speaking to each other again. There is no doubt about this, none at all. Not only can she see them walking out the door of their home together, muttering quietly about something, but they even incorporate her into their conversation when she waves at them.
"Emori." Clarke nods at her, a strained smile about her lips, looking rather far beyond exhausted. "How are you this morning?"
"I'm good. How are you both?"
Clarke frowns for a moment, as if surprised that she should be asked this question. Bellamy gulps a little instead of answering, rubs his clenched fist against the open palm of his other hand in evident discomfort. Emori regrets asking, and is about to change the subject when Clarke surprises her with speech.
"We've been better, I think it's fair to say. But we've been worse, too."
Yes. That's true, from what she hears about the state the pair of them were in yesterday morning.
"I'm sorry to hear that." She says, not sure how else she is supposed to respond. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."
Clarke nods, her lips contorting into a rather anguished expression. Bellamy mutters a gruff word of thanks, before gesturing to his sister's home.
"Shall we?" He asks Clarke, avoiding her gaze.
"Yeah. Let's get this over with."
And then, of course, just to make this interaction all the weirder, Clarke reaches for Bellamy's hand as the two of them walk away in the direction of Octavia's front door.
Yes. This is definitely news that needs passing on, Emori decides. Not out of malice, of course, nor out of any desire to make fun of her friends' relationship difficulties. No, quite the opposite. Raven was worried witless yesterday at the bad blood between her two close friends, and Monty expressed the opinion that things tend to go very badly wrong when Bellamy and Clarke are on opposite sides of an argument.
Even John said that it seemed a bit crap, and that he hoped they would fix things soon. And she loves John, so it seems only right that she should allay some of his concerns by telling him that, even if things are not exactly fixed, just yet, they do seem a damn sight less broken.
…...
Octavia is surprised to say the least when Clarke and Bellamy show up at her front door together, hands clasped, looking almost as if they are actually still in a relationship. She rather expected her brother's love life to fall by the wayside somewhere along the line as a result of this plan, expected them to be at each other's throats, not still to have each other's backs.
On the other hand, they do both look absolutely miserable. Maybe they have hit a bit of a bump in the road after all.
Either way, her survival and the fate of her people is of far more interest to her than he state of her brother's relationship. And perhaps that makes her a bad person, but she's pretty damn convinced it makes her a good leader. What's best for Wonkru is surely a more worthy priority than whether Clarke is in a bit of a sulk. For the record, a bit of a sulk is an understatement. Clarke looks utterly devastated, mixed with a fair dose of fury, and a good measure of exhaustion. And as for Bellamy – well, he looks somehow even worse.
"Welcome." Octavia says, as brightly as she is able, standing aside and inviting them to walk past Miller where he stands on guard at her door. "Thanks for coming."
"We need to work out a plan that keeps Madi safe." Bellamy announces without preamble. "We want to know how you intend to transfer power, and when, and how she'll be protected."
Octavia tries to gather her dignity, having presumed she might at least be allowed to offer them a seat and some refreshments before leaping straight to business.
"Of course." She says with, she thinks, admirable calm. "Do sit down. I'm pleased to hear you've agreed that this is a good idea."
"Don't push your luck." Clarke bites out, venom in every word. Octavia finds herself remembering rather suddenly why people have been rather afraid of this woman, in the past. "We've agreed it's the only idea we've got. Now tell us what you're going to do to keep your niece safe."
Octavia sighs and sits in a chair, and is relieved and a little surprised when Clarke and Bellamy do likewise.
"I'm going to make an announcement, tomorrow, on the church steps. With you there, and Madi, and with the guards out in force, so no one will be able to get to her. And once I've announced that I intend to stand down, I expect the unrest to die away quite quickly."
Bellamy is nodding slowly, but Clarke still looks ready to throttle her.
"A few guards won't stop those rebels from thinking that's a good opportunity to shoot you." Clarke tells her, and she understands all too well from the tone of her voice that her only real objection to that situation is the idea that Madi might get caught in the crossfire. She loosely remembers a past when she was friends with Clarke, but it seems rather long ago, now.
"What do you suggest, then? I'm sure you're only pointing that out because you have a better idea."
"I do. I think we should put the word out there about what you're actually announcing. If people know you're announcing your intention to transfer power, they'll have no motive to attack you before you can tell them the news."
"So you want us to announce the announcement before she really announces it?" Bellamy asks, looking at Clarke as if she's God's gift to humanity, or something. It's all a little sickening, Octavia cannot help but feel. She used to be the only person her brother found anywhere near that impressive, once upon a time.
"Exactly." Clarke confirms, with the closest thing to a real smile she's worn since she arrived here.
"Sounds like a plan." Bellamy agrees, talking entirely to Clarke and apparently having no real use for Octavia's ongoing presence. "I can go get to work on that if you want to catch up on some time with the kids?"
Clarke's smile almost reaches her eyes at that. "I'd like that. Thank you."
…...
Bellamy perhaps spends longer spreading the news of Octavia's intention to step down than is strictly necessary. In fact, by late afternoon, he's beginning to suspect that he's told every inhabitant of the village in person and rendered the announcement scheduled for the following day somewhat pointless. But he wants to do the job thoroughly, wants to ensure that no one sees any reason to cause trouble, wants to secure his daughter's safety.
If he gives Clarke a little space into the bargain, that can hardly be a bad thing, he figures.
He does go home eventually, though. He's beginning to miss his children, not used to spending the greater part of the day without them. And he's missing Clarke, too, and however much she might have wanted to get away from him a couple of days ago, he sort of needs to be able to see her and he so badly wants to make a start on pushing things back towards something like normality.
He arrives at home and enters the living room to the sight of Clarke sitting cross-legged on the floor, Madi by her side, the pair of them watching over Gus as he plays. He's holding tight to a rustically carved bear, a small wooden model that Bellamy himself created for his little boy's last birthday. Personally, he's not even convinced it looks much like a bear, but Gus has been obsessed with the toy ever since he first set eyes on it.
Gus sees him enter the room, toddles towards him with great speed and a lot of enthusiastic gabbling about how he's playing at bear trap. Bellamy's not entirely sure what bear trap consists of, as a game, but Gus is still a little young for a careful explanation of the rules to be a realistic expectation, he supposes. And anyway, Clarke's smiling, so whatever bear trap might be, it is surely not anything bad.
"Hey." Bellamy greets them all, trying not to feel out of place in his own living room.
"Hey." Clarke's smile hasn't fallen off her face yet. "Did it go OK? Do you think it worked?"
"Yeah. Everyone I spoke to said it was good news and they'd spread the word."
"Great."
"Will you be there with me, tomorrow?" Madi asks now, and Bellamy supposes that Clarke has filled her in on the plan in his absence.
"Of course we will." Bellamy confirms. "You'll have your whole family by your side."
Madi breathes a visible sigh of relief at that, and he curses yet again the fact that he's found himself agreeing to put his daughter under this kind of pressure. "Do I need to do anything before then? Do I have to prepare or practise or anything?"
"I don't think so, Madi." Clarke reassures her, apparently in a rather calmer frame of mind than she has been of late. "Octavia will speak, but you just need to step up and smile and wave. I actually thought it might be nice if we had a Lion King evening. I think some quiet family time would be good for all of us."
Bellamy feels his jaw hit the floor at that. She wants to play happy families, even after every wretched thing he has done in recent days to tear their family apart? They're not even due for their monthly Lion King afternoon, he notes, so she really must mean something by this.
"I'd like that." Madi agrees with a grin.
"Lion King!" Gus contributes helpfully, gesticulating in the general direction of the TV, that precious bear still wrapped in his little fingers.
"That sounds great." Bellamy manages to get out, sounding somewhat choked.
He feels rather self-conscious as he adopts his accustomed seat on the sofa and sets up the film. Their family movie time is a rather well-honed routine, in which a key component is the way that all four of them pile onto the sofa together, Clarke normally sitting half in his lap, Madi with her legs tucked up to her side, Gus sprawling across the whole lot of them, climbing from person to person as the whim takes him. But Bellamy is pretty sure that, today, Clarke will not be on board with sharing his personal space quite so freely.
"Are you OK?" He asks, as she takes a seat close by his side, thigh pressed up against his. He shuffles ineffectually sideways, sitting right up against the arm of the sofa, and wonders if he has ever been quite so uncomfortable in this room as he is now.
"Yeah." She confirms, with the slightest quirk of her lips. "I'm good. Sit still."
Well. He wouldn't want to disappoint her twice in two days. He stops wriggling, and gets on with enjoying her warmth at his side. She's not exactly sitting on his knee, sure, and he's certainly not going to attempt to put an arm around her, but all the same, this feels like a success, given the circumstances.
Madi takes a seat on the other side of Clarke, and Gus decides to start out on his sister's knee. And the familiar opening scene rolls, and Bellamy relaxes back against the sofa, and allows his mind to switch off. It's not exactly a taxing film, after all, and he has watched it literally dozens of times.
It is not until he wakes up that he realises he must have fallen asleep. It's no great surprise, he supposes. He didn't get a lot of rest last night, and a bit of soothing repetition of Lion King, and the reassuring presence of Clarke by his side, seems like a pretty good recipe for a comfortable nap. He suspects that he must have been asleep some time. It's dark beyond the windows, now, and he seems to be the only occupant of the sofa.
With a start he realises why he woke up. Clarke has just taken a seat at the table, and is now scraping her chair as quietly as possible across the floor as she shuffles into place.
"Sorry." She whispers, apparently having noticed that she has woken him.
"No worries." He stretches a little, smothers a yawn. "I can't believe I fell asleep."
"I don't blame you, after last night. I dozed off, too, and only woke up again when Madi started poking me."
He chuckles a little. He's not quite sure if open laughter is allowed in this house, just now. "Have they gone to bed?"
"Yeah. Gus is already fast asleep. Madi told me to get out so she could finish reading that book you gave her."
"She's already practising giving orders." He jokes, but then realises what he's done. He glares at the floor, chastising himself thoroughly. His eleven-year-old daughter having to give orders is not a joking matter.
Clarke surprises him with a hollow laugh.
"You've made more inappropriate jokes." She tells him, as if she can read his mind. After five years of spending almost every moment of every day together, maybe she can. "I think try doing that hanging upside down was my favourite."
"Still, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about all of this." He shakes his head hopelessly and tries not to weep. "I knew you had history with the flame, and knew you'd feel we were plotting against you, and knew you'd be all-round horrified, and I should have handled it more carefully."
"You can stop apologising now." She murmurs, eyes fixed carefully on the chess board which is neatly set out before her, where he left it last night.
"I don't think I can."
"I should have known you'd say that. You are you, after all." She pauses for a moment, takes a careful breath. Shakes her head, apparently deciding not to speak after all, and moves a pawn.
He wonders if he is supposed to go over there, and maybe join her in a game, but he's not quite sure he can. He's pretty certain that if he leaves this sofa any time soon he'll end up hugging her, or kissing her, or some other thing that's not entirely appropriate while she's still angry with him, and then she'll be even more -
"I forgive you." She whispers, so quietly he can hardly hear it, so unexpectedly that he can hardly believe it.
"You mean that?"
"Yeah. Of course I do. I forgive you." She looks up and meets his gaze, voice growing stronger with every word. "You're forgiven."
He knows he's grinning at her like some pathetic lovestruck teenager, but that's what he feels like, right now. "Thank you, Clarke. I promise I won't ever do anything like that again."
"I know you won't." She allows herself a small smile, too, and gestures at the table before her. "Are you going to play chess from all the way over there or do you want to be able to reach the board?"
He does jump to his feet now, and strides over there, and he is about to pull out his chair and take a seat when he changes his mind.
He approaches Clarke, first, and places a tentative hand on her shoulder. Squeezes it gently, like he did so many years ago, and drops a soft kiss on her hairline, as he didn't dare to do, back then.
The sigh of relief he breathes when she reaches up to cover his hand with her own is not exactly subtle.
"You're forgiven." She repeats, leaning her cheek against their joined hands. "But it might take me a while longer to let go of my anger. Does that make sense?"
"Of course it does." He murmurs, wondering how far to push his luck. "Take as long as you need. I'll be waiting for you."
He's waited for her in worse circumstances, after all. His heart may have broken a little, these last couple of days, but the world isn't burning, so that's better than nothing.
a/n Thanks for reading!