XXIX – Twenty-nine
Bellamy is such a hotheaded brat when his mind is set on something. He keeps nagging her about that birthday night, about how she fled and and didn't show up the following morning and she should have been less of a jerk. And in a way, he's right, she should have given him some sort of explanation but the truth is – she simply didn't have the strength to make up some lie, so she left.
Now, as she sits by the Hudson river, basking in the sun with an old book in her lap, she's looking at Murphy in wonder and for the first time ever since she met him, she notices how handsome he really is.
He's lying on the grass, face first into the brown blanket sprawled across the ground and the more she looks at him the merrier she feels. So she smiles and shuffles closer to him and when she bends forward her book slips away from her lap. The slight thumping noise wakes him up.
He groans and pushes the book away and Clarke chuckles quietly.
She especially likes the fact that he's never tried to seduce her, not even when she hugged him the morning after Bellamy's thirty-fifth birthday, not that night when she cried on his shoulder and told him the truth about her dead father and not even the day he saw her step out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her body.
All he ever did was merely laugh and joke with her as if they'd been siblings, yet every time he looks at her, she can see that little something in his eyes and it makes her feel good.
And now that she watches him act all lazy and dumb, she realizes that he has become that special person – that constant and all around hilarious guy friend and the very funny thing is, the mere thought of ever losing him makes her stomach churn terribly.
"You know I think we'd make a hilarious couple." She says with a shake of her head and for a few seconds she is surprised by her own words.
"Oh shut up brat – I was dreaming about Penelope Cruz and you ruined the whole thing." Murphy barely flicks his wrist as he lies back on the grass.
He has been his usual goofy self from the beginning and she thinks that he doesn't even need to act all manly and tough to charm the opposite sex and she absolutely loves that, so she lies down on top of him and enjoys his warm and comfortable back.
"Seriously though – I want to try it – I mean the worst case scenario is we break up and laugh about it." She says and shrugs casually.
"My God!" Murphy exclaims and tries to prop himself up on his elbows but it's quite hard with Clarke slouched on top of him. "You want me to be your beard! My God!"
"What – no – I – I'm not gay." Clarke says with a giggle.
"That's not how I meant it – a beard is an excuse – a cover up, you know? And now you want me to be your fake boyfriend." He says with a nod and she thinks that he looks way too cute for his own good.
"But I think you're smart, funny and handsome and I like you – I like you a lot." She says with a pout and he groans.
"So you want me to have sex with you, Clarke?" He says with a nervous chuckle and she gasps and punches his arm.
"That's not what I was offering, you idiot!" She exclaims and pulls at her dress when he looks down at her legs.
"Yeah well – you know the drill, huh? Boys will be boys." He says casually and laughs at her.
"Oh shut up and be my boyfriend for a few days – at least up until Bellamy's wedding." She says with a very hopeful smile.
"OH MY GOD!" Murphy cries out and scratches his head as he tries to look away but Clarke's intense stare has him trapped.
And then she's squealing because she can see the surrender in his eyes.
"Fine." He answers with a long and heavy sigh. "Anything you ask, I guess and – Oh crap, I am immediately regretting that decision – I'm so stupid, it hurts."
And now she's hugging him and crushing him and he's shrieking because he isn't much of a big guy, in fact he's skinny and barely a few inches taller than her but she simply laughs in return and kisses him hard on the lips.
"I feel violated – much more importance should be given to man rape, I swear to God." He complains when they part and he's wiping at his mouth already but Clarke knows he's only trying to be funny so she kisses him again.
And this time he grabs her waist and lies on top of her, his lips never leaving hers.
XXX – Thirty
It's Bellamy's wedding and everyone is looking merry and pretty and she knows she can't possibly screw up the way she did the night of his birthday.
"This is going to be so beautiful." Clarke's mother says when they reach the beach wedding arches and sit on the white bench displayed in the front row.
Clarke nods with a smile and Murphy kisses her forehead gently, smiling down at her and giving her a very knowing look.
Clarke is glad to have him there with her so she latches onto his arm, resting her cheek on his bicep; and then she's chuckling because the four year-old bridesmaid comes reeling in, a bit like a little white ball because of her white fluffy dress and all eyes are on her. Clarke is so proud of the little Zara that she finds herself cheering, watching as the girl stops by the stage with the band. She proceeds to climb over and then she showers the guests with her cute little golden flakes. J-G comes strutting after her and though he's getting older now, he still is a playful dog so he jumps up at the flakes, trying to catch them in his mouth.
Then it's Bellamy's turn and Clarke can feel her stomach doing somersaults already. He looks so confident as he walks down the empty trail in between the rows of benches and Clarke's grin fades as soon as he sets his eyes on her. He is so handsome with his hair coiffed to perfection and his grey tuxedo adorning his slender figure. He's nodding as if to show her that her presence means the world to him and she feels the familiar sweet little thing shake inside her heart. And – Oh God! She thinks that this happens to be worst than that stupid anniversary she attended a couple of years before.
And she thinks that she is such an idiot, swooning at the sight of her favorite man getting married to some insanely beautiful british woman. And the very worst part is, after all, maybe, possibly, this is for the best and she has to be happy for her beloved friend and she should really fight the urge to stand up and scream for him to stop and never make it to the altar...
But the annoying truth is, no optimistic thought whatsoever could ever mend the emptiness settling deep in Clarke's chest. And when Bellamy stares up at the bride, his smile growing wider and brighter, the young Griffin feels her heart turn to rock.
So she takes a very deep breath and bites the inside of her cheek as she holds onto Murphy's arm. And he knows, it seems. Murphy knows exactly how she feels because he's sneaking a hand around her west, pulling her closer and whispering reassuring things in her ear. And she thanks the lord for his warm presence.
…...
Now, because her heart is turning into that numb rock thing, everything goes on pretty well. Cassandra comes strutting like a Diva and everyone loves her and since Clarke has stopped feeling, stopped sensing any sort of jealousy, has stopped caring actually – she is able to cheer for the red head when she comes to stand next to Bellamy. And then the two cute lovers swear to love each other until death and – Clarke spaces out somehow and remains in her own little imaginary land until Murphy nudges her shoulder.
"You have to give a speech, you're the best friend." He says and Clarke shakes her head, looking around her and realizing that everyone's waiting for her toast.
"Oh, hello – hi everyone." She says awkwardly when she stands up.
She lifts her cup and for a moment her hand is shaking but she quickly wills it to stop and remain steady and then she's speaking, the words flowing out of her mouth as if she's had some crazy long thing pre-written – but she hasn't and the truth is, she hates the lies that she is about to tell to the rest of the people looking up at her but then again, what else is she supposed to do?
"Bellamy and Cassandra – I couldn't be any happier for you today." She starts her speech with a brilliant smile but already she can't ignore the lump in her throat.
Still, she does her best to remain polite and happy-looking, painting a picture in her mind and imagining her heart as a white unbreakable rock.
"You don't just look good together – you are perfect for each other and every time I look at you – hugging and kissing and whispering things to each other – my heart flutters in my chest and I know it's cheesy and all but it's true."
Bellamy is looking at her in that strange and very beautiful way and she thinks she might just lose it if she keeps looking at his eyes so she turns her attention to Cassandra instead.
"Dear Cassandra. I have to be honest – from the first moment that I saw you I felt like crap."
Some of the guests laugh and others look at Clarke curiously but she keeps on speaking.
"The thing is – I knew you were a wonderful woman, a smart, and funny and all around beautiful woman and I felt threatened because I knew you and Bellamy would settle down eventually and I would have to be the – the less important woman and that's O.K. Really, it is! Because at some point we all meet that special someone and – and I'm glad it's you Cassandra, I'm glad Bellamy chose you and I know now that I love you both, the two of you together is a picture I want to remember."
Some voice inside Clarke's head is screaming all sorts of things and she knows that she certainly doesn't mean the crap she's making up but it has to be done. And even though the picture of Bellamy kissing his bride is still a very painful sight she bites her lip and forces the thoughts away and out of her mind.
"So, please everyone, raise your glasses and take a good look at the two lovers because they definitely are – a sight to remember!"
The rest of the guests all clap and clink their drinks and the party gets started.
…...
One thing leads to another and Clarke ends up having so much more fun, lots and lots of fun because she's laughing at some stupid joke her mother just told her and when she turns on her heels to look for Murphy, a warm hand grabs her wrist and then she realizes Monty is helping her spin and dance while Jasper is doing something with Raven and they look awkward but they're still smiling and then Jack is laughing so hard at something Abigail says that he stumbles towards Clarke and almost knocks her off her feet.
And when Jack starts apologizing, Clarke simply smiles and grabs him by the shirt, dancing with him joyfully.
Sometime later Murphy is holding Clarke's waist and whispering things in her ear and she thinks she feels good – and – and so wonderfully comfortable.
But when she looks up at him again, to look for the twinkle in his eye, the one that had her liking him so easily – she realizes that what essentially makes a relationship worth the while is definitely non-existent. And the truth is, she tried – she really did try hard but sometimes love and lust don't actually combine in one thing... Sometimes it clearly, simply doesn't happen...
So now she knows – she's positive that Murphy isn't the one and that's all right.
It's all right because she can see it in his bright blue eyes. She can see that he agrees, that they both knew this was no fairytale and it feels good to know that there's no pressure whatsoever, no engagement and no need for her to feel trapped or guilty...
Like she told him that afternoon by the Hudson river; one day, they'll just laugh as they reminisce their youth and that stupid little short-lived fake romance of theirs will be no more than a joke.
A harmless and yet fun joke.
XXXI – Thirty-one
She tells him when the wedding is coming close to an end.
Murphy looks very thoughtful and he's so quiet that she can't guess what's going through his mind and it makes her feel terribly anxious.
Surprisingly enough, he smiles and shakes his head but Clarke doesn't know what to think so she starts apologizing, holding his hand firmly in hers and promising that he will always be her best friend. And there's that terrible lump in her throat – and her eyes start to water and just when she thinks that he is about to walk away, he gives her a sweet side hug and kisses her forehead, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"I knew you liked someone else. So do I." He winks at her and she chuckles despite the weird feeling at the pit of her stomach.
"And I know no one can top the effect he has on you –" Murphy whispers in her ear for the rest of their friends not to hear. "I'm glad you chose to be honest with me and simply ended things before any of it got too serious."
He's smiling and Clarke can finally breath, instant relief reaching her insides and allowing her shoulders to drop comfortably.
…...
Somehow when the guests start to leave she loses sight of Murphy.
She tries to find him. She looks for him everywhere on that goddamn beach and just when she thinks she's giving up, she sees him with Raven. They're walking by the white boulders lining the side of the beach and when Clarke squints to get a better look, she realizes that they're holding hands and that they look strangely close and intimate and she finds herself laughing.
A warm hand grabs her wrist, very softly so and when she turns around, she sees Bellamy, towering over her and smiling widely.
"Looks like Raven and Murphy are getting along better and better." He says with a chuckle.
"I think they're dating now." Clarke says with a genuine smile and Bellamy furrows one eyebrow, looking confused.
"But Murphy is – he's your boyfriend, isn't he?" Bellamy asks and shakes his head.
"He's just my very good friend, is all." Clarke says with a sigh.
And when Bellamy looks her in the eye, she turns away from him and stares at the twilight casting a purple glow over the beach and she knows that she likes what she sees, she likes that Murphy and Raven are finally admitting their feelings to each other.
It is particularly strange to witness the love happening between the two of them though because now Clarke realizes that another one of her best guy friends has found his perfect match and she should be happy for them – she has to be but somehow, she isn't – not really, not entirely.
She is not upset either. She's quite content, standing there, watching them kiss in the distance. And when Bellamy's shoulder grazes hers, she feels nostalgic and giddy inside. Murphy and Raven's story is a remainder of her childhood years, of a wild Bellamy always playing tricks on her and somehow driving her crazy and now – now she thinks she's quite pathetic, wishing he would pay her such attention again even if it meant getting into fights and arguing all day everyday.
Perhaps it's the wedding and the merriness and the romance swaying in the air that has her feeling so strangely lonely but despite her will to remain happy, she feels that bittersweet hollowness – she hates to admit it but she wishes she had that one special one person in the world that you're allowed to keep selfishly to yourself – never to share and never to feel bad about.
She wishes she could claim she had that very one thing but she doesn't – She wishes it could be Bellamy, but he's not, clearly – so for now her friends and family will have to do.
And maybe, possibly, she doesn't even need to have a special someone... Perhaps she can live alone for the rest of her life? She's managed just that so far so why start bothering now?
Bellamy grabs her hand and intertwines his fingers with hers and she is jolted out of her misty thoughts.
For a second she is surprised as she looks down at their hands, her lips twitching into a happy smile despite the hole in her chest.
Bellamy doesn't say anything and neither does she.
Together, they watch the sun set, eyes fixed on the horizon and strands of golden and raven hair swaying gently as the wind blows across the shore. They're simply basking in the peaceful silence and enjoying the beautiful different shades of colors darkening in the sky but Clarke has that sudden rushing feeling.
It's as if she's losing something – definitely letting go of an important era of her life and so she latches onto Bellamy's hand, craving his bittersweet proximity and when she looks up at him, she could swear that he feels the exact same way because his eyes are watery and his smile looks so wistful.
"You gave such a beautiful speech." He says and she doesn't feel the need to look up at him anymore. "Thank you for coming. Thank you for everything."
She keeps staring at the disappearing sun and then she lets got of his hand and steps ahead and closer to the beach, letting her feet be kissed by the salty water washing over the sand.
"I love you, Bellamy." She says with a sigh.
And when she turns around, she notices Cassandra staring from afar but this time she ignores her. She knows she has to tell Bellamy all the things she wished she had told him sooner.
"I have always loved you and I always will." She adds when she turns back towards the horizon and she's barely looked up at him. "No matter who you're with, no matter who's your wife. I will always truly love you."
The beach is sparkling under a dark night sky now and when she finally looks up, when Clarke really stares at Bellamy's eyes, she notices the shy and little crescent moon reflecting in his dark brown orbs and she feels at ease with the world.
She feels so bittersweet and fuzzy inside that she gives Bellamy a little smile and brushes the lock of dark raven hair away from his eyes.
"Please, remember that." She whispers quietly.
She doesn't wait for a reaction or an answer, she simply adjusts his tie and pats his chest and then she's walking away, feeling free and relieved. Murphy was right, she realizes when she gets back to her mother and pulls her towards the moonlit beach – it feels so much better once you get the emotional-baggage out of your system.
And less than ten minutes later she's laughing so loud, her mother nudges her and asks her what has her so hyped but Clarke only nods her head to the faint beat of the song and pulls her mother closer, dancing and whispering in her ear.
"It's a wedding night, mom! Just be happy!"
And Abigail is happy and for the first time in a very long time, Clarke sees the unconditional motherly love shining through her eyes and she feels blessed.
She feels so blessed and loved. Loved by her family, her friends and her own liberated self.
XXXII – Thirty-two
Several months pass and Clarke eventually lets it sink in. She can finally deal with the fact that Bellamy and Cassandra are married and when she sees pictures of them with Zara in the middle smiling and pulling two thumbs up, she thinks that they make such a cute little family and she finds herself smiling too.
G-J, her favorite and only little pet is growing older, so he doesn't act as excited as he used to but that's O.K. Clarke is growing older too, she's turned thirty-two less than a month ago and when she gets home this late saturday evening she thinks that she could use a cute and simple movie night with her friends so she can relax on her short time off work. Raven and Murphy don't agree but she holds her ground because she's sick and tired of the whole partying thing and she is so exhausted with work that she simply wishes to sleep throughout the whole weekend.
Abigail is spending more and more time in New Jersey because she's met a bunch of artsy women the same age as her and they're having that special trip coming and they've planned it such a long time ago that she has to decline the movie night invitation. Clarke is fine with her mother's decision and though she misses her, she's very happy to know that she's making such friends and getting to see the world again, so she wishes her a wonderful weekend and tells her to take good care of herself before hanging up the phone.
Bellamy says he can't come because he's going on a business trip soon and much work must be done before he leaves. He is a lawyer again and not the mayor of Wilmington anymore so he has gone back to the difficult cases and has less and less time to come visit her. Cassandra and Zara can't come either but Clarke doesn't ask any questions.
She knows that Cassandra is purposely staying away and avoiding her as much as humanly possible. Ever since Clarke told Bellamy she loves him, Cassandra has changed into that cold and unaffected woman.
Clarke hasn't helped the situation much in the mean time. In fact, one cold night, she only worsened it all by accusing Cassandra of bad parenting, creating a tantrum and scaring both Bellamy and Zara away.
"Clarke, I think you should leave." Bellamy had said that night, his eyes looking darker than usual.
Clarke had meant to retort but the sight of a crying Zara had caused a sudden guilt to surge through her so she said nothing. Looking down at her feet, the blond simply realized that she was not much welcome there anymore. She had to leave them alone.
And the sad thing is, it was unfair – Bellamy shouldn't have to deal with such a stupid situation, he had enough on his hands with his job, he didn't need more stress with this friends and family and he looked so tired that night that Clarke didn't have the heart to explain – she didn't have the heart to fight with him either. She cared so much about him that she worried about him all the time.
But before any of the drama could escalate, before the whole thing could ever take a toll on her, Clarke had left and decided to simply stay away.
She's stopped visiting and though it brakes her heart to be so far away from Zara, she thinks all is well as long as Bellamy's little family is healthy, as long he himself is happy.
So it's just her and her goofy friends that cold saturday night. And it's O.K if she misses Bellamy, Zara and Abigail, she knows she'll still have the real goody sort of weekend because she'll have Jasper, Monty and Raven and Murphy with her and they will have fun because staying in bed and watching old movies is such a wonderful way to waste away your free time.
XXXIII – Thirty-three
Winter fades away at the expense of spring and one late evening, Clarke realizes she's been spending such time at the hospital that it's become quite pathetic – so much so that she's starting to feel like those no-life workaholics.
Late after she's gotten home, she's still working, thinking of ways to improve her schedule and when she looks down at her attire she isn't surprised to see that she still is in her scrubs.
And though she has just come home after a caesarian surgery on a twenty year-old girl and her brain won't shut off, she knows she's tired and she has to find some way to force her eyes closed.
So in desperation, she takes a slipping pill, promising herself that it's one little exception and she won't use it ever again. Thankfully, the drug works out pretty well and by the time she steps out of the shower, she's so tired that she barely has the energy to change into her pajamas.
She puts on her most comfortable panties and throws on some random tank top and then she falls heavily on her bed, face first into the warm comforter but just as she thinks she's falling asleep, her cellphone rings and for a moment she thinks she'll let it go to voicemail.
The person on the other end of the line is quite annoying though, so they keep calling again and again and eventually, Clarke looks up and notices Bellamy's picture flashing on the screen and though she's cursing she finds enough strength to crawl away from the bed.
In a terribly bad mood, she stumbles sleepily in the direction of her desk and grabs the phone, taking the call.
"Bell, this had better be important." She says in a sleepy voice.
She doesn't even have the energy to sound annoyed and she quickly sprawls back across her bed and pulls at her blanket, snuggling and groaning too because Bellamy is taking such a long time to answer.
"Hey, you but-called me or what?" She asks and thinks she might as well hang up on him because it's already 3 AM and she is exhausted and she has had a terrible week.
"Alright, I'm hanging up." She says after another moment of silence but when she's just about to pull the phone away from her ear, she hears a feeble little whimper.
"Bel – Oh, God – Is this – Zara is that you?" Clarke asks and she is hardly able to stay awake as she rubs her eyes.
"Clarke?" The child whispers on the other end of the line.
"Hey, honey? What the – why aren't you asleep? What are you doing with uncle Bell's phone?" Clarke says quietly.
"I – I – can you help me?" Zara stammers and Clarke can hear her sobbing softly.
"I will try my best." Clarke promises. "What's wrong, love?"
"It's daddy Bellamy." Zara says dejectedly. "He's so sad."
"What? How do you know?" Clarke asks with a sigh.
"Because – I can see it." Zara says confidently.
"What – what'd you mean by – you can see it? Is he crying?" Clarke asks and she's so sleepy that it seems she doesn't have much strength left to speak coherently.
"No, he's not. He looks – he looks normal." Zara answers.
"Then he's fine." Clarke says with a shake of her head and lets her head fall back against the pillow, getting ready to fall asleep. "He's probably just – just – little tired – sleep, love."
"No, you don't understand. I can see it, it's there – it's in his eyes." Zara says gloomily.
"What?" Clarke whispers weakly and fails to fight the urge to fall asleep and already her eyelids are so heavy she can't keep her eyes open.
"He's sad so he leaves all the time – and then I have to stay with Cassandra and I don't like it, aunty Clarke. Do you understand?" Zara says with another barely audible sob but the sleeping drug is causing Clarke's brain to shut off so easily, she can barely hear any of her words.
"Daddy Bellamy is gone all the time," Zara is now speaking rapidly, barely stopping to breath, "and then there's this big guy – Cassandra's friend, and I don't like him. He always wants to play with me but he's old, he's a grown up and I don't like his games – because they hurt and he always asks me to play this weird – I don't know – he always says we have to take our clothes off – If I say no, he gets angry – I don't understand and I don't like it – it – it really hurts, aunty Clarke."
Clarke is gone – her brain has eloped to some other imaginary land and her eyes are closed and her hand is letting the phone drop down to the carpeted floor. Despite her will to stay awake, she has long fallen asleep.
Now Zara is left to cry on the end of the line, begging for her godmother to wake up. But Clarke never responds and the five year-old hangs up eventually.
XXXIV – Thirty-four
The little Zara doesn't mention the bad guy ever again and without any remainder, Clarke is left to forget about that night call. Life goes on and Zara's cry for help goes unnoticed.
A whole passes and Clarke realizes that she has been working more than she ever did before, drowning herself again in her long list of surgeries but around then end of spring, she thinks she really needs to do something drastic this time, she knows she should slow down and start planning different ways to change her life completely.
After all, she's thirty-three now and she is still single and she's also – sadly – still a virgin. So she thinks that she needs more action in her life. She needs to be more useful, she needs to accomplish more. In fact she stars checking all of the information available about humanitarian missions with the hospital. She believes that she can do better than fix people in her country and since she has enough money to live on for several years, she is convinced charity is a great idea.
She knows that healing people in poor ruined countries is something that will make her mother proud, something that will cause both Daddy and Wells to smile down at her from heaven. Oh, and Octavia – bright and big-hearted Octavia would be so proud of her too.
Clarke smiles at the thought of a mission outside of the USA. She dreams of little children in need of her, healing thanks to her help and who knows? Perhaps her destiny lies in some other land? Perhaps leaving is what she should have done a long time ago?
These thoughts keep her going, they have her waking up contentedly with a smile on her face.
XXXV – Thirty-five
Clarke eventually makes time for her friends and family.
She goes hiking with her mother some weekends, and then on other occasions, she goes out with Raven and Murphy or Jasper and Monty and it feels good. Sometimes she even has enough energy to go partying but the morning after she's usually close to dead.
That's what happens to her on the first day of summer. It's past noon already and because she spent the night partying at Jasper and Monty's, she's barely stepped away from the bed that already she has a headache. Still, she's so serene and happy with her future plans that she barely minds the little pain.
She grabs painkillers from the shelf in the bathroom and swallows them with a cup of water, all the while smiling and guessing her friends' reactions when she tells them about her willing to leave the country for a mission. She grabs a bag of muffins from the cupboard in the kitchen and tries to get back to bed so she can watch some chick flick as she eats the chocolate-filled pastry but she steps on her phone when she stops by her nigh-stand and she groans.
She remembers some persistent ringing. She remembers seeing Bellamy's face flashing on the screen of her cellphone and she knows she should have taken the call but with all the drama that happened with Cassandra, she rarely feels like talking to him.
Besides, with time, part of Clarke has grown to resent Bellamy – she just can't bring herself to forgive him for always choosing work over his friends and family. It has gotten so bad that he barely spends enough time in his own home, traveling constantly and looking so tired the rare times he actually comes visit her or the guys in New York. Something is definitely not right but Clarke is tired.
She is tired of trying again and gain – she is tired of being the one giving and not receiving much in return, she is tired of calling or inviting him over only for her proposals to be declined. There just always seemed to be something more important. Something work related, something Cassandra's folks related. And Clarke is so sick of it.
But then a thought strikes the blond surgeon and she gasps as she looks down at her phone.
What if Bellamy hadn't been the one calling?Clarke thinks with a withering look. She has to check her phone, just in case something happened at the Blakes' and Zara is still waiting for her to call back. Besides, the girl is now six years old, she is old enough to know that Clarke doesn't have time for jokes so if something really is wrong – Clarke doesn't want to jump to conclusions and unlocks her phone instead, checking her missed calls.
There are three. One is from Jasper, another is from Monty and the last one is from Bellamy. She choses to listens to Bellamy's first and is surprised to hear Zara sobbing desperately.
"Aunty Clarke! I know you're a doctor and you're very busy and tired and you couldn't answer last night when I called but – I – I don't know what to do – I only have one extra mommy and it's you – I don't like Cassandra, you know I don't like her? Right? Right, Clarke? She's – she does things only she likes– sometimes it's like – like she hates me and only likes Bellamy and not me – and then the other day her friend came – he's a big big guy and he's scary and – I told you about him a long time ago but you fell asleep – I don't know if you remember – and daddy Bellamy doesn't know he comes to see me and Cassandra and – sometimes, this big big buy gets really angry because I don't want to play the games he wants to play with me..."
Zara stops whispering and breathes heavily.
Clarke puts a hand on her chest, holding her breath. She has a very bad feeling gnawing at the pit of her stomach and she prays to God that Zara is only being dramatic and that there's nothing to worry about but then...
"Clarke, I have to hide in the closet, I think Cassandra is awake now. Bellamy is still asleep, he works so much, he can't even play with me... I stole his phone and – I have to hide, now."
Zara whispers so quietly that Clarke can barely hear her words.
"You know there's this big big guy I just told you about? He's Cassandra's friend, he comes when daddy Bellamy is not home but I don't like him. He likes to play weird games and sometimes it hurts – I tried to tell Cassandra but she said that I just imagine things and that all kids like to imagine crazy things which are not true but Clarke... He likes to be naked and he wants me to be naked too and then – and then it hurts, the things he does – they really hurt..."
Zara lets out a terrible hiccup and for a very long and painful five seconds she holds in a scream and then tries to speak again. And in the meantime, Clarke has let go of her muffins and they all fall down and scatter across the carpeted floor but she doesn't care, she's too busy trying to breathe and everything around her starts to spin and she thinks her heart is seriously just about to stop.
"Clarke – Clarke, I have to hurry." Zara says on the other end of the line. "Clarke, I think Cassandra is coming but – but don't forget, please Clarke – this is our little secret, O.K? Don't tell daddy Bellamy, he is so sad, you can't tell him."
Now Clarke knows she's having a panic attack because she definitely can't breath. And her limbs are freezing so she can't move, she can only fall to her knees with her hands clutching at her tee-shirt and her head shaking frantically.
"No, no, no, no – please, no." She keeps repeating over and over again.
She can't believe what she's just heard, she doesn't want to...
She doesn't like the thoughts running through her head and she thinks she might just start vomiting so she hopes to God that this is all a misunderstanding or some sort of terrible nightmare.
And soon enough, maybe, possibly, she will wake up?
XXXV – Thirty-five
Less than two days after that strange phone call from Zara, Clarke is gone and on her way to Wilmington. She takes her god daughter with her and drives her back to New York, telling Cassandra that all is well but all the while cursing under her breath and hating the woman vehemently.
Bellamy's already gone on another one of his Goddamn business trips and it's really really hard not hate him because how could he be so indifferent to Zara's cries for help?
Clarke tries to calm down when she brings Zara to her workplace. She tries to think about one thing at a time and she takes her to one of the empty rooms by the emergency ward.
Fortunately, Abigail and Raven are here to help, so together, the three of them examine the six year-old girl's frail body.
"What did you tell Cassandra and Bellamy?" Abigail asks.
"I told Cassandra I had tickets to an amusement park and it was a wonderful opportunity for Zara and I to spend time together – Bellamy doesn't even know, he's on a business trip and his cellphone kept going to voice mail anyways." Clarke says uneasily as she helps her god-daughter take her clothes off.
"Do I really have to do all this?" Zara asks in a shaken whisper and Clarke feels her heart sink inside her chest.
"Yes, honey." Abigail says gently. "We need proof to keep the big bad guy away."
"We're doing more than that. Mother freaking asshole is going to jail." Raven says through gritted teeth and Abigail glares at her from across the stretcher.
Clarke ignores the two women's silent disagreement and runs one gloved hand over the dark bruises on Zara's thighs.
"Zara, love. Aunty Raven is a doctor too and she is going to take a look down there, just to make sure the mean guy didn't brake anything, alright?." Clarke says carefully and looks down at Zara, giving her a reassuring little smile.
Zara nods quietly, hardly understanding the current situation and the innocence in her eyes causes Clarke's heart to skip a bit.
"Zara, I'm going to need you to open up your legs a little, can you do that for me? I'll be very gentle, it won't hurt at all." Raven whispers quietly and the blue-eyed girl obliges but the anxiety shows in her features and Abigail grabs her hand in hers, rubbing her palm soothingly.
"It's going to be, O.K. Honey, you're going to be safe now." She says and smiles but the serenity doesn't quite reach her eyes.
Clarke feels her stomach churn terribly at the sight of it all and she thinks that for the first time every since she enrolled in the medical field, she feels sick – horribly so.
"Do you mind if I just go out for a minute? I'll be right back." She says uneasily and turns on her heels.
She rushes out of the room and runs through the halls, all the while holding her breath because she can feel the tears beginning to form in her eyes and she knows that she can't possibly cry, not in front of the whole staff. By the time she's outside, she realizes she still has her plastic gloves on and when she looks at her covered hands she feels herself gagging and then before she even has time to hide behind some bush, she's throwing up.
She's coughing and spitting bile and the people passing by are sending her curious looks but she can't fight the nausea and for a few seconds, she is so disgusted with the thought of Cassandra acting normal and unconcerned that she finds herself tearing at the plastic gloves and throwing them angrily in a nearby trash can.
All this time, Clarke realizes with a painful hiccup. All this time, Zara has been calling for help – she has been molested by Cassandra's friend over and over again and yet – none of them saw it coming. Neither Bellamy, nor Abigail and certainly not Clarke. How could they all have been blind to it? How could have Clarke missed the signs too?
Zara had been right, Clarke realizes with much guilt.
She should have moved to Wilmington. She should have lived with her in that goddamn house – she should have saved her from the pedophile...
Clarke doesn't waste more time thinking. She pulls her phone out of her pants' pocket and calls Octavia's old boss.
"Hello." The woman sounds sleepy and Clarke bites her lip because she completely forgot that it was 11PM already.
"I'm sorry to bother you – hum, Mrs. Blackwell." She says nervously and hopes to God that she will have de decency to hear her plea.
"Clarke? Clarke Griffin?" The woman asks.
"Yes – I'm really sorry to call at such an hour but – it's Octavia's daughter, you said you'd always be willing to help if anything..." Clarke starts in a shaky voice.
"Did something happen?" The woman asks and she sounds much less sleepy all of a sudden, the urgency sounding clearly through her voice.
"She hum – she is..." Clarke starts sobbing despite her will to remain calm. "She's a victim of child molesting – I just had her examined and – "
"Who's the bastard?" Mrs. Blackwell cries out and Clarke puts a hand over her mouth for a minute, trying to calm down.
"That's the thing – we can't tell for sure – we need – we'd like to investigate and perhaps – perhaps catch him red-handed."
"Where are you?"
"I'm at the hospital, the one I work at."
"I'll be right there – let me just grab a jacket and I'll be with you in less than ten minutes." The woman says reassuringly.
"Thank you, Mrs. Blackwell." Clarke whispers and grabs at her shirt because her heart is starting to calm down – slightly so.
"Please, call me Indra." The woman says and Clarke can hear the smile in her voice.
"Thank you, Indra." Clarke says gratefully.
She realizes there's something about that boss that has her nodding calmly. And when the woman promises to have the culprit held in no time, Clarke thinks that things might get better – probably only a little, of course but – in any case, the blond haired doctor needs a little something to hold on to for now – for hope.
Surely, Indra can and will help them catch the bastard and – and then with Bellamy's skills, they can have the pedophile rotting in prison for as long as possible – preferably for ever.
XXXVI – Thirty-six
Clarke can't look through the medical file. She can only stare at it or put it safely away in one of those drawers back home. She's afraid of the things she might see in it and she is convinced that if she witnesses more than what she saw the night she examined Zara, she will never be able to look the little girl in the eye ever again.
Her first thought when she gets home that night is to get back to Wilmington. Just so she can walk up to that perfect little porch – just so she can pull that mahogany door open and then she dreams of punching Cassandra square in the face and she knows she will never hesitate. She will pounce on the woman's face for as long as she pleases and she doesn't even care about the consequences of her actions.
And with a very long sigh, Clarke realizes she is capable of really anything when it comes to Zara's well being – almost as if – as if she were her own daughter now. And maybe she really is her daughter? Maybe Clarke should have been more daring. Maybe just maybe, she should have walked up to the wooden altar by the beach on that stupid wedding day and simply demanded that Bellamy listens to her and that he doesn't ever marry Cassandra.
But it's too late now – the harm is already done and there's no preventing it.
Now all Clarke can do is fix her – fix Octavia's little girl and protect her from any other possible source of harm.
XXXVII – Thirty-seven
As soon as Bellamy gets home from his business trip, Clarke is quick to call for him to come to her place, swearing that Cassandra can't be trusted. Bellamy sounds skeptical on the phone but he agrees to take the first train to New York nonetheless.
Clarke knows that Cassandra has now grown suspicious and might have guessed what is to come with Indra firing a lawsuit already and her private detectives nosing around Bellamy's house back in Wilmington but she can't bring herself to call the red-haired woman. She can't face her because she knows what she is capable of and she is scared of the things she could do to her.
Together, Bellamy, Indra and her listen to the voicemail left by Zara that dreadful night. They all sit cross-legged in Clarke's living-room and remain quite as she clicks the play button on her computer.
"The first thing I did after I heard what Zara said was making sure to safeguard the voicemail." Clarke says and nods at Bellamy before Zara's voice can be heard through her laptop's speakers
"You know there's this big big guy I just told you about? He's Cassandra's friend, he comes when daddy Bellamy is not home but I don't like him. He likes to play weird games and then sometimes it hurts – I tried to tell Cassandra but she said that I just imagine things and that all kids like to imagine crazy things which are not true but Clarke... He likes to be naked and he wants me to be naked too and then – and then it hurts, the things he does – they really hurt..."
Bellamy stops the recording, not wanting to listen to the rest of it and his face is so red and pale all at the same time that Clarke can't tell if he's angry or sick.
"With all of the evidence we have we could have both your wife and mister Wallace locked up for a good while." Indra says with confidence.
"Good." Bellamy says weakly, his jaw contracting and his eyes staring into space. "I'll let you two take care of all this, in the mean time I'll be fixing a little something in Wilmington."
And then he's up on his feet, running to the front door of Clarke's apartment and neither Indra nor Clarke can stop him.
XXXVIII – Thirty-eight
Clarke reaches Wilmington sometime after Bellamy but she can't tell exactly how much earlier he showed up there. She can't even think of the damage he might cause if he runs into Cassandra or her pedophile-friend. She can't even see his car anywhere near his place and yet she wonders, where else could he possibly be?
She barely parks her own vehicle in the driveway and hops out in a rush, running up to the large front door and pushing it open forcefully.
She's expecting the worse. But when she enters the Blakes' house, all she sees is emptiness.
What used to be the large and luxurious living-room is now a vacant space. Gone is the furniture. Gone are all the stuff which used to fill the whole two stories-house and it's all so crazy that Clarke finds herself crouching down. Sitting on the floor with her legs sprawled before her, she looks down at her moist hands, and then she's brushing them against her dark jeans to get rid of the sweat.
She feels sick. Her stomach is doing some crazy flip flop and when she looks up again at the stiffening emptiness all around her, she thinks she might very well vomit so she jumps up to her feet and rushes out of the house.
For a very long moment she stops. She seats down on the grass and she stops thinking, she stops wondering. She closes her eyes and simply breathes.
Exhaling and then inhaling quietly because calming down is the best thing she can do now.
Clearly, Cassandra saw it coming. Clearly, she's gone, and the worst part is: she's taken everything away with her.
What a bitch. Clarke thinks ruefully.
"What a total bitch." She says out-loud and her voice reverberates throughout the quiet and empty street.
She looks down at her trembling knees and she realizes that it feels good to say the words she's been dying to say for a very long while now.
It feels right – her hating Cassandra deep inside, it feels very much right and yet nothing good can come out of such hatred. And she knows it, and she expects that anger and regret won't help her much but she doesn't care.
For now she allows herself to hate and despise the whole wide world. She doesn't repress the dark thoughts running through her mind.
And for the first time in her life, Clarke gives up on hope. Disheartened by the sudden and unexpected turn that hers and Bellamy's lives have taken, she lets her head droop, hiding her face in her hands.
And then she cries quietly.
XXXIX – Thirty-nine
He father's voice comes to the rescue. His beautiful face appears in her imagination and he is telling her not to give in to pessimism. He is reminding her of her very first ambition: to fix people's hearts and to fix people in general because sometimes someone can be dead but not quite. And then despite the situation she finds herself smiling a little. After all, if she should behave the way her father wants her to, she has to keep hoping and believing that things can and will get better. Wells would be disappointed too, he would call her chicken and kick her ass to get her to do something.
But the most important remainder is probably Octavia. She owes it to her. She owes her a lot of things really, but above all she must take care of her brother and the little daughter she left behind.
So with a very long sigh, Clarke eventually gets up to her feet.
And when she wipes the tears away, she feels somewhat rested.
So she starts to look for him, spending the rest of the day driving around town, checking several different places, each time hoping desperately to see him but in vain...
When night falls, she starts to give up hope again.
But then a terrible idea crosses her mind. She hasn't even tried to look for him in those bad places... She hasn't even wondered whether Bellamy could be in some dark and dangerous neighborhood or some cheap and ugly bar – and then it hits her like a cold hard slap.
Some ugly bar! A voice echoes in her head and she realizes she knows exactly where Bellamy is.
She finds him. Around midnight, she notices him through the window of the O'Flaherty's, the single most notorious bar in the entirety of little Wilmington – the sort of place which Bellamy used to hate and despise deeply.
She knows he's drunk before she even steps foot inside the dark smoke-filled interior but she walks in without the least hesitation.
She hates the place, she knows it's full of conservative macho jerks and she expects one of the assholes to even try and grope her at one point but she doesn't care, she only has eyes for Bellamy's slumped figure.
He is at the bar, sitting on a high stool and he has let his head drop on the counter. Clarke's heart aches at the sight of it all, and she thinks that for the very first time in her life, she gets to see what a wrecked Bellamy really looks like. And it terrifies her.
She is not surprised to discover several empty shots gathered right by her friend's head and she forces herself to look away, scrunching up her noise and doing her best to ignore the terrible stench of liquor. She sighs when a few men whistle at her but she doesn't pay them the attention they seem to crave. She holds her head high instead and grabs her friend's arm.
"Bell." She whispers near his temple. "Bell, common, let me take you home."
He barely looks up at her and she gasps at the sight of his complexion. He is so different, he is like a ghost and already a massive black eye causes his usually angelic face to look terribly disfigured.
"Oh, Bell." Clarke says wistfully and brushes the few locks of hair away from his forehead. "What did you do?"
She doesn't expect an answer, her words are more of a statement than a question anyway and it's not like Bellamy is sober enough to explain. If anything, it's as if he doesn't even see her, as if his dark brown eyes are looking right through her and she hates it. It hurts too much to see him so vulnerable.
"Here." She whispers reassuringly and starts to lift up his arm, wrapping it around her neck and helping him get off the stool. "I am taking you home."
XXXX – Forty
He looks so peaceful now and he still is horrendously defenseless but at least he's safe. He's with her now, he's right before her and as she pulls the comforter over him she thinks that she will never let go of him ever again. She will look after him and if mrs. Right shows up, well she'll first have to go through Clarke because there's no way in hell that Bellamy is ever going to give himself to some bitch ever again.
Clarke just won't let it happen. Period.
…...
When She is done with her phone calls and is ready to go to bed, a slight moan catches her attention and like a worried mother she rushes to Bellamy's side. He's stirring and his eyes are half-open but he's still drunk and wrecked so Clarke smiles down at him to reassure him as best she can.
"Clarke." He whispers quietly and it sounds like a sad sob.
"Hey – you're alright – You're here with me." Clarke says and takes his hand in hers.
"I'm the – ah – worst person in the world." Bellamy croaks out and gulps loudly, desperately trying to blink back the tears.
"No." Clarke shakes her head softly. "You're not. You're just..."
Bellamy squints up at her as she frowns and she realizes that she has better not finish her sentence. He looks too crushed for this – she shouldn't even speak to him and he should get some sleep and eventually sober up. Maybe then, in the morning, they can have the talk.
"Just what, Clarke?" Bellamy asks and she shakes her head again.
"Never-mind – just rest, sleep, will you?" Clarke smiles and pulls the comforter higher up his chin.
"Just what, Clarke? Go ahead – say it, huh? Just what?"
Clarke startles when Bellamy glares at her vehemently.
"I – I just – just want you to rest." Clarke says uneasily but already Bellamy is shuffling away from her, looking hurt and suspicious.
"No, Clarke – don't be like them, don't be a hypocrite." Bellamy is rocking frenetically now.
"Bell, please, calm down. We can talk about all this tomorrow." Clarke says soothingly.
And what does he mean by them, anyway? She thinks as she stares down at him.
"Just say it, already – I'm a fucked up asshole...I'm not a father, not a husband." Bellamy cries out with a weak and angry groan. "I'm not even your friend. I destroy every ounce of good around me."
"This is nonsense, Bell." Clarke retorts but she is nothing shorter than caring and that seems to bother her restless friend.
"You stay away from me – before I wreck you – You stay away." Bellamy whispers frantically and slips to the other end of the bed but Clarke is quick to crawl after him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back towards her.
"I've already made that mistake once." She whispers to herself. "I'm not letting go of you now."
Bellamy glares up at her but she still wraps her arms around him and in the end he doesn't find the strength to be angry at her or himself. He sighs desperately and remains silent. So does she.
Eventually, Bellamy lets out the tears he'd kept locked inside. He cries and buries his face in her bosom.
"Why are you so nice to me, Clarke?"
The blond surgeon can barely hear the little whisper but she doesn't want to answer the petty question so she holds him closer, rocking him slowly and promising that everything is going to be alright.
"I've never been a good friend to you," Bellamy says into her shirt and then he's looking up at her like a deer caught in headlights, "I've been a jerk so many times to you but you're here, you're here with me and I don't deserve any of..."
Clarke doesn't know what has come over her. All she knows is Bellamy's whining is getting on her nerves and the only thing she can think of is his poor broken heart and that terrible feeling of being useless and helpless and in a pathetic moment of utter despair, well – she never thought she'd do such a thing in such a wrong time but she kisses him.
She grabs him from the neck and crushes her lips against his.
XXXXI – Forty-one
Fuck, is the first word that comes to mind when Clarke wakes up that early morning. What the hell was she thinking, getting advantage of a drunk and broken man? What the hell was wrong with her? What was Bellamy going to say to her when he wakes up? What is she supposed to do now?
Oh, well – there is one decent thing she did after all... She did manage to push him away, stop the craziness before it reached a climax. And he had looked hurt and confused but the more she thinks about it and the more she agrees with her decision. She is a virgin. He is a mess. Having sex would have been all wrong and the kissing still feels like a terrible mistake.
Her phone buzzes near the coffee table and she forgets about the awful present for a very short second.
"Hi, Raven. How is everything going?" She says into the receiver.
"Clarke. We almost have it all. The evidence with pictures and short videos of the asshole caught red-handed! Oh, Clarke – Zara is not the only victim! It turns out he does this shit to a whole other bunch of kids, all friends of the family and the bastard never even got caught. He's like good with people, like he talks really well and all of that garbage but – anyways, he's going be locked up for hell of a long time, maybe for life! I'll get back to you as soon as I get the last info about the arrest and the oncoming trial."
Clarke blinks her eyes rapidly, taking in the information and despite her will to feel relieved, there's still that terrible hole deep inside her chest.
"Thank you, Raven. Thank you so much." Clarke whispers quietly and hopes to God that she doesn't sound too emotional.
"Hey, love." Raven says reassuringly. "We're in this together – all of us and that includes the other victims' parents. You, my friend, are doing great for now, alright? You just take care of Bellamy while we manage of all of the paperwork here in New York, you hear me?"
"Of course – Yeah, thanks again, for everything." Clarke says politely.
"Oh and Clarke?" Raven croaks out.
"Yeah?" The blond answers quietly.
"Please, stop thanking me for all of this – it gets really annoying after a while." Raven says flatly but Clarke can hear the smile in her voice.
"Right..." Clarke lets out quiet little chuckle. "Talk to you later?"
"Sure thing. Take care, love." Raven says kindly.
"You too." Clarke answers before hanging up.
…...
She's just hung up the phone, she's just started eating her breakfast and already Bellamy is awake, walking sluggishly towards her with only his boxers on and – Oh God, she thinks, how the hell is she supposed to behave? And how is she supposed to be immune to the perfect torso and the brawny thighs? How can she not stare at him?
"Morning." Bellamy says casually and comes to sit right beside her.
After an initial moment of panic, she smiles at him and manages to croak an answer.
"Good morning." She says and she can tell that he must have heard the anxiety in her voice.
"Yesterday was crap." Bellamy says with a grimace. "Thank God I can't remember much of it. What did you do anyway? Did you just fall asleep? Was I annoying? Did I do something to you?"
Oh God! This was much worse than she thought. What was she supposed to say now? He clearly could not remember anything. Should she simply smile and then pretend that she forgot all about the crazy make-out session they had had the night before?
"Clark? Are you all there?" Bellamy asks.
"Sorry, I guess I couldn't hear you."
"Of course you could hear me. What is wrong with you? You don't look good. Are you sick? Were you drunk as well?"
Clarke looks up at him. She feels so lost and so utterly pathetic.
She doesn't know what to think but the thing is, there is a very distinct feeling at the very pit of her stomach. It is a dreadful one, the kind that she thought she'd long gotten rid of.
"We kissed." She blurts out before she can think of all the reasons why she shouldn't tell him. "I'm sorry. It was a mistake."
Bellamy stares at her for a very long time. His brow is furrowed and his lips barely twitch open as he tries to speak but nothing comes out of his mouth. He remains silent and Clarke feels awfully shameful.
"You were a mess and I was desperate. I didn't know how to reassure you." She says rapidly and he looks away, his eyes growing watery and bloodshot.
"Why'd you think it was a mistake?" He asks quietly and Clarke thinks that her jaw is dropping all the way down to the floor.
"I – we – I guess – it was wrong. You were drunk." Clarke stammers when he shuffles closer.
"Is that all?" Bellamy asks and Clarke can see suspicion shining through his eyes.
"What do you mean?" Clarke croaks out.
"Never mind." Bellamy whispers tiredly. "We've more important things to take care of at the moment."
Clarke sighs and looks down at her phone. She stares at the picture of her dad and Wells, the one wallpaper she's always used on her phone. They're smiling brightly, standing next to each other with a banner held between the two of them. It is decorated with sparks and colorful confetti and the blond surgeon realizes that the words written on it are forever embedded in her memory. Happy sixteenth birthday, Clarke!
"Ugh... I forgot we were still in Wilmington – in your old house..." Bellamy says absent-mindedly as he looks up at the ceiling.
"I'll take a shower and get dressed." Clarke says flatly. "Then we can get back to New York."
And despite de tenderness she sees in Bellamy's eyes, she feels upset and she's afraid that their friendship will soon be no more than a distant memory. Like the picture of Wells and dad on her phone, the man who used to be her second best friend is surely slipping away from her and already she can feel the bitterness that comes with the loss and nostalgia.
So what if one day – maybe next week – Bellamy is only a picture? Someone she used to know, someone she used to love.
But someone who's dead to her...?
XXXXII– Forty-two
Everything goes on quite wonderfully in terms of practicality. The trial is a success – if any trial of any sort can ever be a success – and the pedophile is sentenced to a lifetime in jail. The little Zara is on a tough schedule, going to therapy twice each week right after school and yet powering through it all in such an admirable way. Clarke can only wonder at the girl's emotional strength and she hopes that with time, she won't relapse into some terrible downward spiral at the realization of what molesting really is – what it really means...
Bellamy is almost unrecognizable. He has sworn that his life would evolve around his little girl and only her and in the midst of his big makeover, he has somehow erased Clarke from his life... Alright, so maybe Clarke is being a bit too bitter and the truth is Bellamy still visits and lets her pick up Zara whenever she wants to, promising that Clarke will always be the god-mother – but – but the sad thing is... He's so close and yet so far. It's like he's switched something from inside him and she can never see through his eyes ever again – whatever bond they used to have is now, clearly, dead.
It's hard in the beginning and Clarke thinks that it's almost worst than losing him to death but with time, she gets used to it – sort of...
When summer comes around, she knows she needs to give Bellamy all the space he needs. She knows she's not in love with him anymore though she still cares about him very much.
So that very early morning, when the long-awaited letter shows up in her mail, she smiles brightly. She knows she's ready to go – ready to leave the country. And she wants this. She wants to make a difference in the world, she wants her friends and family to have a reason to travel, to come see her abroad. She needs change – and now she's about to have it.
XXXXII– Forty-three
Because she's leaving, her mother wants to sell the old house. Clarke seemed to be the only reason Abigail still held on to that old dwelling and now that she's leaving, she wants her to take care of it. Clarke finds pleasure in such an activity. There's something refreshing about two weeks spent in Wilmington, there's something fun about people coming to check out her house, commenting on the paint on the walls, and the wood of the doors or the space in the small backyard. And because Clarke likes to brag about all of it, Bellamy begs her to take care of his house too. He wants to be rid of it but he can't find the strength to sort through the few things he has left in there and he especially hates the attic.
He first insists on throwing everything away but Clarke knows that it's the worst idea. She'd rather take care of it all so she can give away the stuff that might be useful. Besides there must be some really important stuff in that dark old box with the grey tape on it. She recognizes Octavia's writing on the cover, it goes something like: "souvenirs and artifacts."
Clarke smiles when she grabs the box from one of the shelves in the attic.
She wipes the dust away with her hand and then proceeds to tear the thing open. She finds a bunch of journals and photographs stacked in a folder. She pulls them out and right under them she discovers a bundle of old yellowing envelops. She flicks trough them all and realizes that all of them are open and that they've never been mailed. She lets out a little chuckle and inspects them closely. Except for the faded colors of old paper, there is absolutely nothing written on them, no recipient and no returning address.
Curiosity definitely gets the best of her and she finds herself pulling the postcards out of the envelops with such greediness that she laughs and shakes her head. Anyone would think her childish if they saw her act that way but she doesn't care. She can tell that all these postcards have something to do with her childhood, with a blue-cladded Octavia smiling brightly and a grumpy Bellamy whining for nothing and she can't wait to read what's written on them.
She grabs one haphazardly and inspects the sketch on it. It's a vanilla ice cream drawn on a yellow background and it reminds her of home and of long and fun summer days spent with Octavia and Bellamy down the main avenue in the little town park. Hastily, she flicks it over and reads the few words scribbled on it.
Deer Clarke,
Today is the first day of Spring. Octavia says U want to marry me. I don't beleeeve her. Im writing U this letter to ask U to come to my birthday. Im 10 yrs old now and Im stronger. You know I can scare the bad guys away.
B. Blake.
Clarke feels a rush of emotion surging through her and blinks multiple times as she reads the short paragraph over and over again. She racks her brain for a memory, something to remind her of that specific day and she knows that Bellamy never told her any of these things. Sure, she'd been invited to his birthday, but she never thought that he wanted her to come, she was convinced that little Octavia had forced the whole thing on her brother and out of politeness, mister Blake had called the Griffins and asked for them to bring Clarke to the house for the little birthday party but – Surely this was Octavia's idea and ten year-old Bellamy had – obviously – never meant for her to receive any such postcard.
She grabs another one from the little pile and with each passing second her reading grows more and more frantic, her scanning each of the written words with such urgency and such hunger. It's like this whole thing is some treasured food-for-thought and she can't get enough. So she doesn't even stop to think, she reads through them all as fast as she can, each time holding back the tears and taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.
XXXXIV– Forty-four
Dear Clarke,
You're sixteen. I can't believe you're sixteen. You used to be so little. You and Octavia both.
At age 20, I'm still a coward. I can't bring myself to tell you – I can't send you these postcards either but I trust that one day – I will... I'm just waiting for the perfect occasion. You know that little thing you desperately want to be perfect? That special moment. That's what I'm waiting for.
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
Don't got no time for joking no more!
You are a woman, you are 13 now and Octavia told me you got your period.
So I decided to bring the perfect gifts to your birthday:
1. The Knuckle-duster, in case some asshole tries to rape you. Got one for Octavia too.
2. Pastel Pencils, in case you decide to follow your insane dream of being both a doctor and an artist. You just have to be a perfect little know-it-all, huh?
3. The box of junk food. I suggest you hide that shit under your bed. We all know Abigail's crazy diet rules and we don't want to get in trouble, do we?
Anyways, chances are, you don't even know these are from me but that's alright.
And for now, because you still think I'm that stupid angry kid, I'll have to look at you from far away like an idiot. But I'm hoping that soon enough – you'll see me as the super hot boyfriend that I really am!
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
Today was the last day of practice at school. I scored the perfect touchdown but because some asshole working on the defense my collarbone broke! If only you knew how much that shit hurts, Clarke. But of course, you don't. You're too busy being the perfect kid with the perfect grades and the very perfect health.
God, I hate you so much, it hurts. In fact, I hate you so much that I'm now writing to no one on some stupid postcard with stupid profiteroles on it. I bought it because it reminded me of your obsession with food. You pig, you can always stuff yourself and look pretty and thin while I have to to do training and workouts and of all of that stupid shit.
God I hate you so much.
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
I'm so disappointed in you. Why do you have to give up on art? You can be a doctor and a painter at the same time, you stupid kid. Whatever happened to fixing people's bodies and hearts, huh? You know medicine doesn't help hearts. It just helps with the bruises and the broken bones and all of that physical, visible shit.
But what about the broken hearted and those who are in shit so deep they can't even see clearly? What about me Clarke?
If you go to pre-med, I'm never getting a chance to see you because that stupid stuff takes way too much time. And because I'm a major in law, I'm not exactly free either.
Fuck all those people who told us to go study in those crazy ass shit of expensive schools. My God, are we ever going to be able to pay back those stupid loans?
I feel like shit, Clarke. I feel like shit and I need your art. I need you but you're not here.
I hope you choose New York, I hope you come study here. Then you can share some cheap apartment with me and Octavia. And maybe, just maybe I get to tell you what I've always wanted to tell you.
Maybe I'll finally have that special moment.
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
It's happened. That shit my dad used to tell me about. That thing about this one special girl who makes all the other girls disappear. That one person you like – love more than any other? You know that stupid crap about the one and only?
Well, fuck you Clarke. Fuck you, because it seems to me that you are that one only exception and I hate it. You are the absolute opposite of what I AM, and I hate it.
You're imperfectly perfect, and I hate that. Even when you tell jokes about puke or poo or whatever other disgusting stupidity, I find myself staring at you. Hoping that one day, you'll look me in the eye, an show me with your green and ridiculously charming eyes – show me that you love me.
PS: There's no way in hell that I'm attending your 26th birthday. Last thing I need is my heart broken and I heard Octavia talking about some asshole your friends might be trying to set you up with. Some asshole named Finn. Yeah – well... I'm going to stay in Wilmington and I'm going to work my ass off while you're partying because I can't stand your perfect little face.
Have a nice life, fucking perfect Clarke.
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
I don't know what to think.
I'm so sorry for all the shit you're going through. It stinks. I'm sorry your daddy's dead. I'm sorry Wells is too. It will get better. It has to because I can't stand the sight of you crying. And if I could, if I deserved your perfection, I would hold you in my arms for all of eternity.
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
I'm writing less and less. Those stupid postcards don't make any sense anyways and it's not like I'll ever send them to you. I'm a coward, you probably already know that.
I can't believe I'm in my late twenties, well practically thirty already. But there's this cute girl I met at city hall. She's a secretary. And she doesn't make me feel the way you do – she doesn't look at me the way you do. But still, there's something about her and I thought I should give us a try.
So I'm dating her now. And though I never asked you and you never met her, I'm hoping you approve of her.
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
I never thought I'd feel SO shitty. Octavia's gone. Everything's gone. I'm never writing you any postcards ever again. This was stupid anyways.
I hate the world. I hate Cassandra too. I hate everything.
But I don't hate you. And I hate the fact that I can't hate you.
I hate the fact that I care about you so deeply – I can't think of anyone but you.
I don't think anyone else could heal the hole that Octavia left in my chest.
And – –
Fuck.
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
I know now that I don't hate you. I simply hate the fact that I love you and I can never have you.
I told your mom that I was hoping I would tell you how I feel before any of the stuff with Cassandra got any serious. I was about to break up with her but then. Your mom wasn't too happy. To be fair, she only voiced the fears that I wished to keep hidden inside.
She said I didn't deserve you and I should live my life with Cassandra. She specifically made me promise that I would never try to be romantic with you and – I was angry. I was furious.
But then I saw my reflection in the mirror of my bathroom and I realized. Your mom's right. I don't deserve you. You are far better than me in every way.
I'm hoping that with Cassandra, I'll find the spark, a love like yours and in the mean time, I wish you the absolute best.
B. Blake.
…...
Dear Clarke,
Last postcard in the stack.
Fuck this. I am so burning all of this waste of trees. I'm burning them the day I move out of this shitty house.
…...
XXXXV– Forty-five
Clarke shows up at Bellamy's place without a single warning. It's a cute little two-bedroom in down town New York and Clarke has been to the place so many times before that it almost feels like home though not quite.
She rings the doorbell impatiently. Soon after the door cracks open and the little Zara peers discreetly at Clarke, eyes growing big and lips smiling wide.
"Clarke!" The little girl exclaims with joy. "Come in, quick!"
Clarke chuckles at six year-old girl and steps inside the apartment.
"I didn't know you were coming!" Zara jumps up in excitement and grabs Clarke's hand, dragging her towards the kitchen.
"Daddy Bell and I were cooking muffins, want to help?" Zara explains as they reach the doorway to the kitchen.
"Hum – Sure thing." Clarke says contentedly.
"Clarke!" Bellamy says with surprise and wipes the chocolate away from his cheek. "What are you doing here, I though you were busy with the whole house selling in Wilmington?"
Clarke shakes her head. "I needed a break."
Bellamy looks suspicious but he smiles nonetheless, passing her an apron and pointing to the recipe stuck on the fridge.
"Get to work, Griffin." He orders amicably.
They make a good team, Clarke thinks when they're done with the pastry. Together, Zara and her watch Bellamy as he pushes the silver tray inside the oven. He choses the right temperature, the right time and then pulls pack, looking through the glass as the pastry starts to change – ever so slowly but surely.
"This is taking too long. I'm going to go watch a cartoon. Call me when it's ready!" Zara whines and turns on her heel, exiting the kitchen in a haste.
"So." Bellamy starts with a lop-sided smile.
"So." Clarke says knowingly.
"What brings you back here so soon." Bellamy says as he pulls off the apron over his head.
Clarke notices his shirt slipping up. She sees his stomach, she sees the fine abs and she can't help herself.
"I though..." Bellamy starts again but he is interrupted by Clarke's thumb.
He looks enthralled as her finger wipes the bits of chocolate off his chin and then he almost gasps because she's bringing that same finger back to her mouth, sucking on it, tasting the chocolate.
"I found the postcards." Clarke says simply and slips her warm hands under his shirt, grabbing his waist gently and pulling him close.
"And I love them." She whispers in his ear and she can feel his warm breath on her neck. "I love you – but you already know that." She adds archly.
It takes less than a second for Bellamy to react and Clarke couldn't be any happier about the urgency that characterizes his next move. He pulls her up, setting her on the kitchen aisle. And for a moment, he stares at her, eyes growing bigger, lips smiling in wonder, in satisfaction and in surprise all at the same time.
And she's happy – he's happy. And she knows that she's doing it now – she's fixing his heart, fixing his smile and filling the emptiness in his heart.
"I'm sorry I waited all this time." Clarke whispers against his lips.
"I'm sorry I never told you." Bellamy says lovingly and lets his forehead rest against hers.
For a full minute, they remain this way, silent and rested. Holding onto each other and enjoying the warmth radiating from each of their bodies.
"Daddy Bell? Aunty Clarke?" Zara says with tint of disgust when she catches them hugging so intimately.
She remains in the doorway of the kitchen with her mouth gaping open. But Bellamy and Clarke barely take notice of her disgust. If anything, they grow even more disgusting, sticking each other's thongs down each other's throat.
"Eww!" Zara cries out and goes back to her bedroom.
But as she settles on her bed, she can hear them laugh and though her little six-year old mind can't explain it – she thinks she likes it, she sort of enjoys the thought of Bellamy and Clarke being so strangely close.
There might be something magical about it.
And anything magical, thinks Zara, definitely offsets the whole disgusting kissing thing.
This was written a long time ago and I was supposed to post it much sooner but I lost my login and password - again. Now I'm back and I'm hoping I'll get to write more fanfiction for the 100.
There might be an epilogue for this. I'm still trying to write it.