The pieces are falling together, and somehow it's so much worse than she could have imagined. Because he's been there, in her life, and she noticed. She just never connected the dots.
The missing shirts, the way sometimes she'd come home and swear something wasn't where she left it. The phone calls.
It all seems so obvious now.
"What time is it?" She looks up at Steven as she asks, eyes heavy with fatigue. She still feels sluggish and dizzy from the concussion. He raises an eyebrow at her, twirling the blade between his fingers. After a moment's consideration, he pulls a cellphone out of his pocket, lighting up the screen with the push of a button.
"Eleven-thirty," he reads, monotone. She blinks.
"At night?"
"In the morning," he tells her, pocketing the phone again. "It's Saturday."
So she's been here over eighteen hours. Bellamy must have noticed her missing by now. It gives her…not hope exactly, but something. Maybe he'll find her. Maybe someone will find her.
"How long are you going to keep me down here?" She wonders. Maybe she's pushing it, with the questions, but she can feel the corners of her mind beginning to loosen, to blur. It's happening faster than she'd thought. She thinks she might be starting to lose control.
Steven frowns.
"They'll give up on you eventually, or if they don't…" He shrugs. "We'll just have to give them a reason to."
Her stomach clenches at the tone of his voice.
"What do you-"
"If they find a blonde in the river with your dress, your jewelry, maybe too far gone to be recognizable…" He trails off, shrugging. Clarke's mouth goes dry.
"So I'd be dead." The sentence tastes metallic on her tongue, like blood. She thinks of her mother losing the only family she's got left, her friends thinking she's dead, Bellamy-
Bellamy would never forgive himself. Her hands curl into fists.
"Well," Steven makes a noise of contemplation. "Maybe it won't come to that. I'm going to get something to eat." He stands, sheathing the knife in the waistband of his jeans. "Any requests?"
She shakes her head, still trying to process everything she's just heard.
"Alright, I'll surprise you." He shoots her a quick smile, something so inherently different than his previous expression that it startles her. It almost looks…warm.
"Okay," she whispers, watching as he leaves, the clang of the door falling shut echoing in the tiny room.
He's a bonafide sociopath.
And Clarke is more screwed than she'd realized.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"Okay, I've got it, um…" Monty makes a humming noise over the speaker phone while the monitor in front of Bellamy flits through several login screens. He's essentially streaming Monty's computer feed from back in Vancouver while the hacker breaks into the security feeds for the hotel. The screen suddenly fills with thumbnails of the various surveillance cameras for the property. "Okay, so I'll roll them back to four pm, yesterday."
The feed for the cameras in the lobby widen from thumbnails to fill the screen, and Bellamy watches as the people in frame dart around at twice their normal speed. Then a red dress appears.
"Wait, Monty, slow it down."
The feed slows back down to normal, and they watch as Clarke approaches the front desk. It's surreal, watching her like this, remembering how beautiful she'd looked, how normal everything had been only hours ago. There's an exchange with the concierge, who eventually disappears, returning with the woman Bellamy spoke to earlier, Linda.
"That's the manager," he says, to no one in particular. Eddie is perched on the corner of the table beside him, eyes on the laptop screen. He hasn't had a lot to say, but just having him around might be the reason Bellamy hasn't completely fallen apart yet. He's a better friend than he gets credit for sometimes.
The manager and Clarke have a brief conversation, and although Clarke's face is obscured by the angle, Bellamy can tell by the stiff set of her shoulders that she's irritated. Eventually, Clarke seems to dismiss her, then walks to the elevator. Bellamy thinks for a minute.
"You said she came back to check on your room? What floor is that?" Monty's voice asks, the sound of typing echoing dully over the speaker.
"Uh, tenth, but…" He pinches the bridge of his noise, agonizing. "I didn't see the manager give her a card key, and she didn't have one so…try her floor. Fifth."
The sound of typing quickens and then the screen switches to one of a hallway, the doors of the elevator in the corner of the frame. It looks like the one he picked Clarke up in earlier, but then again, they all look the same. A few seconds later the elevator doors open, and Clarke steps out.
It occurs to Bellamy, for the first time, that whatever happened to Clarke probably wasn't good, and he's about to watch it firsthand. His stomach clenches, an icy shot of adrenaline pulsing through his fingertips.
She swipes her cardkey, pushing her door open. It falls closed behind her, and then the feed falls still. The time stamp at the bottom is still running, but there's no one in frame, no motion. And then the elevator doors open again. A male concierge steps out, makes a beeline for Clarke's door. Bellamy feels a sharp pain in his palm, and looks down to see his knuckles white as his hand clutches the table top. The screw on the bottom is biting into his skin, not quite hard enough to draw blood. Loosening his grip, Bellamy lets his eyes dart back to the screen. The concierge swipes a card, pushing the door open. A growl tears out of Bellamy's throat as the door onscreen falls shut a second time.
"Can you…" He suddenly remembers Monty can hear him. "Can you get his-" He's about to ask if Monty can get a clear image of the man's face, when the figure reemerges, a clearly unconscious Clarke in his arms, her head lolling sickly to the side. Bellamy stares, frozen in horror, as the man carries Clarke past the elevator, then disappears. Every ounce of hope that maybe Clarke had just run off, maybe there was another explanation, vanishes. And his chest constricts until he can't breathe, can't think, except-
"Where did he go?" He croaks, eyes burning into the screen, "Monty, where-"
"There's a blindspot there, I don't…" The hacker is clearly typing, bouncing between different cameras as the screen in front of Bellamy mirrors his own. "What's in that corner?"
Bellamy thinks, fighting the blind panic that's rising in his chest.
"The stairwell."
Monty flips through camera after camera, but the man, and Clarke, are nowhere to be seen.
"Where the fuck did they go?!" Bellamy shouts, shooting to his feet.
"I can't find them!" Monty sounds almost as desperate as he feels. "They just…disappeared!"
"People don't just disappear!"
"I-I'm sorry, he must have ducked out into a blind spot…I've checked the parking lots and the basement, he just…he's gone."
She's gone. But she's not.
"We have to get this to the cops, Monty, can you-"
"Brother, how are we supposed to show this to the cops?" Eddie's hand comes gently down on his shoulder. His voice rough from the hours of sitting quietly in the corner. "We didn't exactly get this legally. If we wait-"
"For another hour and a half?" Bellamy asks, incredulous. "And then tip them off that they maybe should check the hotel surveillance footage, and they'll need a warrant, if we can even convince them that there's a good reason to go after it-"
He shakes his head.
"It will take too long." It's not him that says it, it's Miller, a low timbre over the speaker. "Bellamy's right. We can't wait for the cops to wade through their bureaucratic bullshit."
"But what are we supposed to do?" Monty asks, sounding exhausted. Perversely, it makes Bellamy feel the slightest bit comforted that he isn't going through this alone. They're here, deep in this, just like he is. They love her too.
But Monty's right. That's the question, now that they've reached it.
It's up to them. At least they know where to start.
.-.-.-.-.-.
"Greek salad, with grilled chicken breast."
A plastic container lands in her lap, and Clarke looks down at it. It's the kind of takeout salad you'd get in the deli at the grocery store, but she's starving, and it will more than do.
"Thanks," she acknowledges Steven with a nod, prying the lid off the salad. He holds out a plastic fork, but when she reaches for it, he pulls his hand back.
"Don't fucking try anything," he warns, before handing over the utensil. She stares at him, bemused.
"With a plastic fork?"
He just shrugs, settling on the floor across from her to eat his own salad.
"I see the way you look at me. You're not ready yet, for this. You don't trust me. So, I can't trust you."
It's probably the smartest thing he's said yet, acknowledging that she'll come after him the first chance she gets. But it means he's watching her, still on guard. Her mind wanders to the door at the top of the second set of stairs, where it goes. It's the only way out, that much she knows. And if she has a shot at getting to it, she'll need him to let his guard down.
"Steven-"
He waves a hand at her.
"It's okay, Clarke. You need time, I get it."
He's right, she needs time. But she's starting to get the feeling she might not actually have that much left.
.-.-.-.-.
"You guys are terrifying-"
Bellamy's half admonishment, half compliment is cut off by the sound of a harsh knock on his door. He all but leaps to his feet, throwing it open before the knocking finishes. But instead of Clarke, or a cop, he finds his sister standing in the hallway, Raven behind him.
"Octavia." He just stares, for a second, and then he's in her arms. There have been dozens of times in their lives where he's picked her up when something knocked her down, set her back on her feet, hugged her until the glue set enough that it would hold the pieces together. But this time it's different. This time she's the one holding him steady, her tiny frame the most solid thing he's ever felt as it wraps around him.
When she lets go he's a little dazed, but he manages to squeeze her shoulder, a silent thanks. As he steps back, the two women push past him, Raven raising an eyebrow when she sees Eddie balancing on the corner of the table. Eddie looks equally surprised to see her.
"Raven," he says, half greeting, half confirmation.
She just nods, head obviously filled with thoughts of nothing but her missing friend.
"We got on a plane as soon as we heard, but we could only get connecting flights, and-" it's an apology, and one he doesn't need from his sister.
"I'm just glad you're here." He means it, but comes out sounding hollow. Octavia blinks.
"Do you…do we know anything?" She asks. Bellamy glances at Eddie, and suddenly Monty's voice sounds, scaring Raven into tripping over the table leg. Eddie catches her arm before she can fall.
"Um, hey. Is that Octavia?"
Bellamy turns the laptop so it's facing the girls, Monty's face peering out underneath the Skype logo.
"Uh, hi." The youngest Blake bends down to frown at the screen. "Are you going to explain what's going on?"
Monty's gaze flickers over to where Bellamy is still visible in the corner of the frame.
"Okay," he says slowly. "But you're not going to like it."
.-.-.-.-.-.
"Bellamy, this isn't…"
"I know." He scrubs an exhausted hand against his face. "It's not much."
"You don't have anything!"
"Raven-" Eddie reaches out, hand settling on her shoulder. It's meant to warn as much as comfort. She shakes off both.
"No address in California, no car, we don't have any idea where they've gone-"
He cracks, on his feet before he's realized what's happened.
"Don't you think I know that?" He bellows, face an inch from hers. "Don't you think I'm kicking myself right now for asking her to come in the first place? You think this is fun for me, sitting here, watching this video over and over, knowing she's out there with him while he does god knows what-"
Octavia reaches for him but he shrugs her away, shaking.
"He won't have tried to cross the border with her, that's way too risky." Monty pipes up, still hooked in via Skype. "He can't have gone far, not if she's-" He breaks off suddenly. But they all know what the end of that sentence was.
"And you're sure he doesn't have any registered properties here?"
"There's nothing under Steven Kolberg. I've checked." Monty tells him.
Octavia makes a startled noise, and Bellamy stares at her. Her mouth is drawn, eyes tired.
"What?" He asks.
"Bell," she says softly. "Someone has to tell Abby."
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
He's not sure why he volunteered. Octavia would have done it, or Raven. Someone who isn't already fraying at the seams with fear, feet dangling over the edge. But it feels personal, this is all his fault, and he just-
He'll do it.
He calls Abby, heart pounding a little harder with every ring.
"Hello?"
"Abby, hi." He clears his throat, wondering if she can hear the worry already. "It's Bellamy."
"Oh," She sounds surprised, but not unpleasantly so. That only makes him feel worse. "How were the Emmys? I watched them, with Marcus. I'm sorry you didn't win." Her words are genuine, he can tell, and he's always gotten the sense that those are rare from Clarke's mother.
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. It took a while for her to warm up to him once Clarke told her mother they were dating, but eventually Abby developed a grudging respect for Bellamy's undeniable devotion to her daughter.
And now he has to tell her what he's done.
"I-there's something I need to tell you about Clarke." His voice is shaking, and he only prays she can't hear it.
'Okay," suspicion is finally creeping into her tone, but she doesn't interject.
"She went back to the hotel partway through the ceremony to deal with a problem, and she…" his mouth is suddenly so dry he can't form the words, can't make a sound.
"Bellamy." Abby's voice is sharp now. "Is my daughter alright?"
"She-" the words are acidic coming up, like bile. "She's missing. Abby, she was abducted from the hotel."
.-.-.-.-.-.
Breaking the news to Clarke's mother was awful. But they come out of it with more information, and that's something Bellamy wasn't expecting.
Clarke had treated a woman named Maya during her internship, it was the first surgery she'd ever scrubbed in on. The patient didn't make it.
Steven Kolberg was her boyfriend.
"You remember that?" Bellamy had asked, a little incredulous Abby could so easily pull those names from the top of her head.
"Of course I remember." She'd replied, angry. At him, maybe, at the situation, probably. Mostly at the man who took her daughter, Bellamy imagines. "Maya Campbell was the first patient that ever died on Clarke's table. It took her quite a while to recover."
"So he just, what, he blames her? And he waited three years to get her for it?" Raven asks now, shaking her head. "That's insane."
"Sure it is." Eddie shrugs. "But it could also be true."
"He might…" Bellamy tries to relax his hands, which have curled so tightly into fists his fingers are beginning to go numb. "He might have a different agenda."
The others in the room turn to look at him.
"Like…what?" Octavia asks, warier than before.
"Abby said he got pretty attached to Clarke. She sat with him and held his hand afterwards, for hours. Apparently he even showed up at the hospital a few times but Clarke was usually in surgery so they never told her about it."
"So he's in love with her or something?" Octavia asks, brow furrowed.
"Or something," Bellamy mutters. This whole thing is a nightmare, literally. He's had it more than once, that dream where something happens to Clarke, and he's too late. He's always too late.
But those are just dreams, and that can't happen this time.
"Wait-" Monty's voice drifts over from the laptop, and Bellamy blinks. He'd almost forgotten they were still connected. "Bellamy, what did Abby say the girlfriend's name was?"
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
He doesn't come back for a while.
Clarke takes the time to steel her nerve, to try and put some pieces together. She doesn't know where she is, or what time it is now, though she guesses by now it's evening.
She knows Steven is deranged, and a sociopath. That's bad.
She knows Steven thinks they're meant to be together, which might buy her some time. If he loves her, or wants her, or whatever human emotion he may be capable of feeling toward her, he won't kill her.
For now, anyways.
Her head feels worse now than ever, and she longs to lay down and close her eyes, but she wouldn't sleep anyways. It's impossible now, now that she knows he's watching. She needs a plan. But just as the fog clears out of her thoughts long enough for her to begin analyzing her situation, the door opens again. Steven enters, looking displeased.
"People are looking for you."
She blinks.
"What-"
"Blake filed a police report, you're officially missing."
Oh. She'd figured he would, he knows her well enough to know she would never just run off on him like that, not during something so important.
"They won't find me, though." She says slowly, eyeing him, reading his mood. "Will they?"
His lips quirk, a hint of a smile, self-satisfied and smug though it may be.
"Oh," he locks eyes with her. "They'll find you. In the bottom of a river, face burned off. They'll recognize the dress."
They'll test the body, she thinks. If this is Steven's plan to get the cops to stop looking for her, to close the case, it won't work. They'll figure out it's not her.
But how much damage will it do to the people she loves before then?
.-.-.-.-.-.
He does it.
Clarke knows, because he tells her, and she has no reason at this point not to believe him. She thinks of Bellamy, and her mother, and wonders where the body came from.
Steven only looks mildly bemused when she leans forward and empties her stomach back onto the concrete in front of her.
.-.-.-.-.-.
"Bellamy-"
"In a second, Octavia."
"Bellamy!" She shoves at him again, and he spins to glare at her, a little wobbly on his feet. It's been days since he slept. The cops are out looking; he filed the police report and gave them what little information they could without invalidating the evidence they know exists. It's Monday now, Clarke's been gone for three days, and he's starting to lose his mind. He needs her here, in his hands, needs to see her, because the images of her in his head are starting to fall victim to his nightmares.
"What?" He snaps, noting the dark circles under his sister's eyes for the first time. He's sure they match his own. Something else is wrong, though, in her eyes. They look haunted, the hope he'd seen in them for the past few days, the thing that has kept him going through all this, it's gone. His heart plummets. "Octavia, what?"
"They found her." She mumbles. "Bell, they-" She breaks off, shaking her head, and he feels sick, but it's not true, it's not her, Clarke is going to befine- "They found her at the bottom of the river."
Her words morph into a silence that roars deafening in his ears, they don't make sense for as long as his brain can block their meaning, but eventually, they break through.
"No." He shakes his head. "That's impossible, it's not-"
"Bell-" a hand comes down on his arm.
"It's not her!" He backs up, shaking his head, not really seeing her, not really seeing anything but Clarke's face, grinning up at him as he flicks one of her earrings in the hotel elevator.
"The dress…" Octavia trails off. "She was wearing it. The same one." Her face is a mask, and it occurs to him that she's probably struggling to keep it together for his sake, but he can't really comprehend what she's saying. That can't be right.
"I need to see her." He'll show them that they're wrong. Octavia and Raven glance at each other, and Eddie just looks between them, then at Bellamy.
"I'm not sure that's-"
"Octavia." Bellamy's knuckles crack as his fists curl violently at his sides. His voice vibrates in the silent tension of the room, and even he can hear the note of hysteria in it. "I need to see her."
