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Chapter 20

Over the next few days, Bellamy was home very little. He was gone before Clarke woke up, and he came to bed long after she was asleep. She would try to talk to him during the day, but he artfully ignored her.

Her worst fears were coming true when he even began to ignore Bryce. However, this had the opposite affect. He could be angry with her all he wanted, but the little boy had done nothing wrong.

Clarke had all she could take after watching Bryce stare morosely at his scrambled eggs, his little shoulders sagging and his head bent. She stowed their dishes in the basin, grabbed his slate and chalk then knelt before him with a smile.

"How would you like to visit with Auntie O this morning", she asked.

"Does she still love us", Bryce asked, his voice flat.

Clarke took him in her arms, holding him tight as his little arms wrapped around her neck and his small fingers began to toy with her curls. Soon, she pulled back, looking the little boy in the eye as she spoke.

"You're Auntie O and Uncle Linc love you so much buddy, never doubt that. Bellamy loves…"

"No he doesn't", Bryce cut her off.

At her son's painful outburst, Clarke's anger only grew.

"I know it may not seem like it, baby, but he does. He's just so busy…", she trailed off, not knowing how to tell the little boy that she had inadvertently ruined her marriage.

Instead, she took his hand and led him out into the bright morning sun. It looked like it would be a beautiful day, and any other time Clarke would have thrilled in the glorious weather. However, today, nothing could lighten her mood.

Octavia heard a light knock on her door. She left Lincoln at the table with his tea and raisin bread to answer, opening the portal to find Clarke and Bryce in her doorway.

"Come in", she said with a smile, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

O watched as Bryce took his slate, and moved to sit at the table with Lincoln, her husband's quiet words drifting to her ears. She turned back to Clarke, taking in how her blue eyes sparked with anger.

"Did you tell him", she asked.

Clarke sighed in frustration, "When am I supposed to, O? He's gone all the time. He doesn't want to see me."

"Sweetie, you have to tell him."

"I know", Clarke said, raising a shaking hand to her forehead.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Achy and tired."

"Where are you going", O asked as her friend turned to leave.

"To speak with my husband", Clarke growled, "He can ignore me all he wants, but Bryce doesn't deserve that."

Octavia watched Clarke go, worry bubbling to the forefront of her mind. She turned to Lincoln with a shrug, sitting down beside her quiet nephew as he meticulously wrote out his abc's.

Clarke marched across camp, spying Miller near one of the fresh building sites.

"Where's Bellamy?"

Miller looked at the blonde, her hands shaking and her eyes fiery.

"Uh, he's over there", he said pointing to where a small group of men stood huddled around one of Wick's blueprints.

Clarke walked to the group, her gaze capturing that of her husband.

"Can I speak with you", she asked.

He went back to the plan, ignoring her.

"It's important."

"Fine, what do you want Princess", Bellamy asked, his harsh tone dripping with disdain.

Clarke stood her ground, no matter how much she just wanted to turn and run.

"Alone, please", she said softly.

Bellamy stepped forward, walking ahead of her into the shade of the forest. She stood watching him pace for a moment before he whirled on her, his dark eyes angry.

"Well, talk", he growled.

Clarke skipped any pleasantries, going straight to the heart of the problem.

"You can hate me all you want, Bellamy Blake, but don't you dare drag Bryce into this. He doesn't deserve your brush offs or your animosity."

Her words had the desired affect, his expression becoming contrite and almost guilty.

"I don't hate you, Clarke", he said quietly.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did", she answered, "Just don't take it out on Bryce."

Then she walked away, leaving him alone in the shelter of trees as she made her way to the stream. She needed to be alone, needed collect herself before picking up Bryce.

Bellamy watched her go, his heart constricting at the hurt he'd seen flash in her beautiful blue eyes. He knew what he was doing wasn't nice and it wasn't fair, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

He and Clarke had grown closer over the past month and a half. He'd thought they were finally reaching the point where she could tell him how she really felt. He waited and waited, but she said nothing.

Every night when he came home, all he wanted was for her to embrace him and say those three little words. He told her often, but she never said them back. It had really begun to frustrate him, and then it had all blown up when he came home the other night.

The moment he walked through the door he could tell she had something she wanted to say. He'd eagerly anticipated the words he'd been longing to hear, only they never came.

Instead she asked him to build onto their cabin, dangling hope and someday's before him like a juicy carrot. Well he wasn't going to bite. He felt as though he'd been strung along, following after her like a lovesick hound.

"No more", Bellamy whispered aloud.

He walked out of the woods, and back to the building site, ignoring the odd stares of his workers.

"We're wasting daylight, back to work people", he commanded.

Miller looked at him, a question on the tip of his tongue.

"What", Bellamy growled.

"Everything ok, Boss?"

"Yeah, just peachy."

Miller left the older man alone, hoping that he and Clarke sorted out their differences soon because he was becoming impossible to work for.

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Mel knelt in the thick underbrush, Tarren close behind her. From her hiding place she could hear Bellamy and Clarke arguing.

"Is that him", the Grounder whispered.

"Yes", Mel answered quietly.

They both watched as Clarke left, a defeated slump to her shoulders and a slowness to her steps that Mel had never seen before. She studied Bellamy, the anger that seemed to radiate off him in waves and the harsh set of his jaw.

The couple was slowly tearing each other apart, and that brought an unexpected emotion to the forefront. She should be happy, but instead all she felt was sorrow.

She shook those thoughts from her mind, trying desperately to remind herself of why she'd come back in the first place. She shouldn't feel sorry for Clarke. The blonde was making Bellamy miserable, and he certainly didn't deserve to be treated that way.

Mel steeled herself against her guilt, forcing herself to believe that Bellamy would be better off without Clarke and that Tarren would be better off without her. There was no room now for second thoughts.

However, the Grounder had thrown a monkey wrench in her plans. For some reason she dreaded his reaction when he discovered she'd used him. It multiplied her guilt as she thought of how hurt he would be, and how his trust in her would crumble.

Mel looked at the man behind her, his steady gaze sweeping over the forest in search of danger. He was a fine man, a good man. He deserved to be loved, but not by her.

No, Tarren deserved a nice Grounder woman who understood his life. She could never be what he wanted, or what he needed. So, she hardened her heart against him, instead turning her thoughts to the dark haired rebel.

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That night, Clarke cooked supper as she always did. She and Bryce ate in silence, the little boy picking at his food. When she'd finally had enough of watching him push the greens around with his fork, she sent him to bed.

Tidying the kitchen, she could hear her son talking to himself. He was just like Bellamy sometimes, and that hurt right now. He would mutter and murmur, sorting all of his problems out aloud.

When she was finished, Clarke made her way to his bedroom. She found the little boy perched atop his bed waiting for her. She tucked him in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, Bryce", she whispered, caressing his cheek.

"I love you too, Momma."

Clarke blew out his candle then made her way to the rocking chair beside the fireplace. She was determined to wait for Bellamy. They needed to have a talk, and she decided it would not include their unborn child.

There was something going on, and she was determined to find out what it was. She had seen some subtle changes over the past weeks, but nothing that warranted this anger her husband couldn't seem to shake.

She would tell him about the baby after this mess was taken care of. She would do whatever she had to do to repair their relationship, they would both apologize, and then she could tell him her surprise.

As Clarke rocked, she thought about her baby. She wondered if it was a boy or a girl, if it would have Bellamy's dark curls or her eyes. She laid a hand over her stomach, humming as the chair glided back and forth.

Some time later, after she'd dozed off, the front door opened. Clarke's eyes flew open to find Bellamy standing in the doorway. He looked haggard and worn, as if the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders.

"Hey", she said quietly, standing to make her way to him.

He didn't speak; he just stood there in silence. She took on of his hands in her own, feeling him tense, but not letting go.

"What's wrong, Bellamy? Please tell me so I can make it right", she said softly.

Clarke watched as his gaze wandered to her face, his dark eyes twin pools of sorrow and despair.

"I don't know that you can fix this, Clarke."

The hopelessness in his tone scared her, and she could tell he was withdrawing- closing himself off.

"That's not true. We can figure this out together", she said, her voice pleading.

Bellamy felt his anger flood to the surface. Here she was torturing him again, making him believe that this rift was mendable. He was so tired of trying to hold them together; it was easier to just let everything fall apart.

"Really, because I don't think so. I'm tired of trying to figure this out Clarke. I'm tired of trying to earn your love. I'm tired of trying", he said harshly.

He felt her grip on his hands loosen, enough that he jerked them back.

"I can't do this anymore, Clarke. I thought I could live with you never loving me back, but I can't. I just can't."

Clarke watched as he turned to go, hesitating at the front door.

"Don't you think this is worth saving", she asked.

Bellamy didn't turn around, but she heard his answer loud and clear.

"No, I don't think this is worth anything anymore", he replied before disappearing into the night.

Clarke stood in stunned silence before the tears began. She walked to their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. She lay down on the bed, burying her face in his pillow as she sobbed.

Bellamy paced back and forth, anger and hurt swelling in his chest. He'd never known a time when he'd felt his way- not when his mother was floated and not when his sister had been arrested. It was like he could see his whole existence crumbling before his very eyes.

Suddenly, a twig snapped, and the Rebel whirled to find Bryce standing before him. The little boy's dark eyes burned with rage, his back ramrod straight, and his chin held high.

"What is it, buddy", Bellamy asked tiredly, bending down to the boy's level.

"You don't love us anymore", Bryce said bitterly.

Bellamy reached out, resting his hands on the boy's shoulders. He wasn't sure if it was for the boy's benefit or to steady himself.

"Of course I love you, both of you, but…"

"You don't love the baby", Bryce said cutting him off, shock registering in the child's expression, "It didn't do anything. Why don't you love it?"

Bellamy felt all the air leave his lungs in one fell swoosh. He stood up, running his hands through his hair in agitation.

"What are you talking about Bryce", Bellamy asked, his voice quivering.

"Momma's going to have a baby. She said that I'm the big brother and…"

Bellamy stopped listening after that. He felt betrayed. How could she not tell him? He had to hear the news from an angry five-year old. Did she not trust him? He'd done everything he could to earn her trust, to prove that he was worthy. Undoubtedly that wasn't enough.

"Go home, Bryce", he said quietly.

He looked down at the little boy, watching as he turned to run back to the cabin. Bellamy waited until the door had shut before stalking into the forest. He was going to be a father, but there was no excitement only trepidation.

Then a thought occurred to him. What if the baby wasn't his? It was silly, he knew, but it would be par for the course. He and Clarke were like two ships passing in the night. They would draw close only to be pulled apart by the currents of life.

He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as the life he'd so carefully planned for them went up in smoke. He didn't know how he would face her. He was such a fool to think that she could ever love him.

Bellamy walked deeper into the forest, not bothering to look where he was going. He heard a rustle in the bushes to his right, and he stopped short. He listened, standing absolutely still.

Then something struck him on the back of the head. Pain exploded in his skull, flickering light dancing in his vision as he fell to his knees. Darkness began to settle on him like a heavy blanket, and his last thought before falling to the cold ground was of his Princess.

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