A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reviews! Alright, so I think I have most of this story written. If I get enough reviews I might just do a chapter dump and put up a couple at a time. Please let me know what you think!
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She doesn't go back to the bar. She's a little embarrassed, about the getting wasted part, and the spilling her guts part, and the drunkenly hitting on the nice bartender who drove her home part. And that's not even including the lime incident, which her recollection of is a little hazy, although she's decided she's just going to repress whatever's left of that memory anyways.
As the weeks pass, Finn's betrayal begins to feel more like a scar than a bruise, and Clarke gets so busy at work that she barely has time to worry about it all. Today is especially hectic, an oil transport turned over and exploded causing a massive pileup, and as the resident trauma surgeon, the carnage is certainly keeping Clarke on her toes. Just as she finishes updating one chart, another gurney rolls into the ER. She hurries over, eyes scanning the brace on the young woman's neck, and the abrasions dotting her arms and face.
"What do we have?"
"Twenty-four year old female, she was thrown off her motorcycle when the oil transport exploded. She was unconscious on scene, but she's been in and out on the way here. No obvious life-threatening injuries, but you know how it is," Monty tells her, helping Clarke lift the backboard and slide the woman onto a different stretcher.
"Any ID?"
"Not that we could find. It's-it's a mess out there, Clarke."
She looks up at her friend, surprised by his tone. He's been a paramedic longer than she's been out of med school, and his pupils are still wide with shock.
"Hey, are you okay to do this?" she asks softly, gesturing to the girl. He takes a moment, but nods. Clarke turns to the nearest intern, a quiet dark skinned girl named Indra. "Okay, I want X-rays of her neck and shoulders, and an MRI. If those are clear, get me a head CT." Indra nods, then scampers away. Another ambulance pulls up outside, and Monty glances at Clarke. She nods. "Go."
Just as Clarke turns back to the patient, the young woman gasps, eyes flying open.
"I-" She claws at her neck, feeling the brace there, and her breathing stutters with anxiety.
"Hey," Clarke soothes her, finding an unmarked piece of her arm to rub gently. "You're okay, you were in a car accident, but now you're at the hospital. I'm going to take care of you. Can you tell me your name?"
"I don't I-am I paralyzed?" the girl gasps wheezily, and Clarke can tell she's going into shock.
"No, you can move your arms," she says, nodding at the movement. "Can you wiggle your toes?"
One of the girl's boots must have been thrown off in the accident, because her foot is bare. The set of hot pink tipped toes twitch. Clarke nods.
"Okay, good. No, you're not paralyzed. The brace is just to keep everything in place until I can run some tests and make sure you're not hurt."
The brunette stares back at her, then sighs shakily.
"My brother is going to kill me."
Clarke grins, glad to see that the woman's cognitive skills seem normal. She still wants the head CT, but it's a good sign.
"Well, brothers worry. Or so I've been told. Does this hurt?" She presses lightly on the woman's abdomen. The patient tries to shake her head, but the brace gets in the way.
"Uh, no. My shoulder hurts though," she says, eyes darting down at her left shoulder. Clarke presses her hands against it, running them along her clavicle, and back across her shoulder blade. The skin feels unusually warm.
"You might have a fracture. We're going to get some X-rays, okay? And then we'll know what we're dealing with. Can you tell me your name?" she asks again. Now that some of the shock seems to have worn off, the woman answers.
"Octavia. Blake."
Clarke smiles down at her.
"Okay, Octavia. I'm Clarke Griffin. I'm going to send you with Indra now, and I'll see you when your scans are done."
"Okay."
The gurney disappears down the hall toward the elevator, and Clarke grabs the nearest tablet, starting Octavia's chart. The line up for radiology is long, an inevitability whenever there's a traffic accident, and Clarke is suturing her third patient in a row when she hears raised voices coming from the nurse's station.
"What do you mean you can't tell me anything? I want to see her!"
Finishing the last stitch, Clarke tugs the thread into a knot and snips off the end.
"You're all good to go," she says, smiling at the older woman. Then she turns, following the sound of voices until she rounds the corner.
A tall, dark haired man is standing at the desk, glowering at one of the temps.
"What's the problem?" Clarke asks, walking toward them. They both turn at the sound of her voice, the temp recognizing her as a doctor and sagging in relief. Then she recognizes the other face looking back at her. "Bellamy?"
"Clarke?" He stares at her. "What are you doing here?"
She points awkwardly at the badge on her coat.
"I work here. What are you doing here?"
"My sister was in a car accident. Apparently a gas rig exploded, and no one can tell me what's going on, and-" His eyes are wild, a stark contrast to the cool, collected man she remembers from a few weeks ago.
"Okay." She puts her hand on his arm, grabbing a new tablet from the charging station in front of them. "What's your sister's name?"
He deflates a little as he realizes he's finally found someone who can get him answers.
"Octavia Blake."
She glances up at him in surprise.
"Octavia is your sister?"
He gapes at her.
"You know her?"
"Well, no," she murmurs, leading him away from the nurse's station and guiding him onto a chair. "But she came in a little while ago, she's actually one of my patients." When Bellamy makes a move to interrupt her, she holds up a hand and continues. "She seemed okay, no obvious signs of trauma, just a little banged up. I ordered a bunch of tests just to be sure nothing is serious, that's where she is now."
Bellamy sags in relief.
"You saw her?"
Clarke nods.
"Yeah, I talked to her. She has a couple scrapes, and she's going to have some good bruises, but aside from some pain in her shoulder I really think she's going to be okay."
He makes a noise halfway between a sigh and a sob, and drops his head into his hands.
"I want to see her." His words are muffled into his fingers, but Clarke could have predicted them anyways.
"She's in radiology right now, but I promise I will personally come find you the moment she's done." Clarke reaches out, giving his hand a quick squeeze. When she moves to get up, he's still holding fast.
"She's all I've got."
He doesn't even look up as he says it, but Clarke thinks about that night, the last conversation they had.
"I know," she says softly. "I'll take care of her, okay?"
He doesn't even know her, she's suddenly not sure why she thinks he would trust her, but he looks up with a tired smile.
"Thanks." He lets her hand go, and she nods, turning on her heel.
Indra is just finishing Octavia's X-rays when Clarke gets to radiology. The intern hands over the films, and Clarke slides them onto the backlight and squints up at the images.
"How are you hanging in there, Octavia?"
The brunette looks exhausted, but she shoots Clarke a weak smile.
"I've been worse."
Clarke looks at her.
"Your brother's here, he was asking about you."
Octavia squirms on her stretcher.
"Bell's here? I bet he's mad."
Suppressing a smile, Clarke shakes her head.
"Just worried." Then she turns back to the films. "You've got a hairline fracture on your Scapula, which is actually kind of impressive. It shouldn't need surgery, but you won't be back on that bike anytime soon."
Looking relieved, Octavia nods.
"Am I going to need physio?"
"Probably. Any kind of injury to the shoulder needs continuous rehab in order to keep it from healing improperly."
That seems to trouble her patient, who falls silent, eyes broody. She looks a little more like her brother when she does that, but Clarke still doesn't find a lot of resemblance between the siblings. Octavia's complexion is a lot lighter than her brother's, and her bright green eyes don't at all resemble Bellamy's brown ones. But they do have a similar jaw, Octavia's a softer version of his. And they're both exceedingly attractive.
"Let's get you that MRI."
Clarke wheels her across the hall. Octavia remains quiet through the MRI, and the CT scan, and when they're both done, Clarke frowns down at her as she helps the younger girl into a wheelchair.
"Are you okay? Is the pain really bad?" she asks, wondering why the previously chatty brunette has suddenly gone silent.
"It's fine," Octavia replies, but she doesn't elaborate. Clarke wheels her into an overnight room, and helps her into the bed. The sling Clarke strapped onto her patient earlier gets caught on the chair, and Octavia jerks back with a huff. She's obviously in pain, but Clarke can't figure out why she won't admit to it.
Just then, one of the newest surgical interns, a young med student named Charlotte, enters the room. Clarke hands her the tablet.
"Get familiar with this chart. When I come back I want you to update the next of kin."
Charlotte nods, and Clarke turns back to Octavia.
"I'm just going to go get your brother, okay?"
As she looks down at her, Clarke can't but notice the bruising that's already beginning to blossom along the young woman's jaw. It looks worse than it is, but she knows Bellamy isn't going to like it. She instructs Charlotte to start a hydrocodone drip, and takes one last look at the girl laying sadly in bed before leaving.
Bellamy is exactly where she left him, leg bouncing as he taps his heel against the floor. He doesn't notice her come up beside him, and jumps a little when she puts her hand on his leg, stilling it.
"Hey. You can see her now."
He practically jumps off the chair, and Clarke leads him down the hallway, toward her room.
"Is she-"
"She's fine. I'll give you guys the details together, but she's going to be fine." Clarke pauses outside the door, and Bellamy moves to go in, but she puts a hand on his arm, holding him back.
"What?"
She bites her lip.
"Just remember, it looks worse than it is."
And then she lets him go. He strides into the room, stopping abruptly when he sees his sister propped up in bed, her face already swollen and purpling, road rash decorating both arms. His eyes travel over the sling, and the black stitches on her forehead.
"Octavia," he says, so gently Clarke wants to avert her eyes.
"Hey big bro." She gives him a wide grin, wincing when the cut on her lip opens again. "Oh, oops." Her tongue darts out, licking at the dribble of blood.
Clarke walks over, wiping it away with a tissue.
"Maybe try not to do that," she suggests, and Octavia rolls her eyes. Clarke looks back over at Bellamy, whose mouth is twisted into a tight line, shoulders stiff. He's not taking this well, she can tell. She glances at Charlotte.
"Status?"
Charlotte opens her mouth, looking down at the tablet.
"Octavia Blake, twenty-four. Fractured Scapula, superficial abrasions on about a quarter of her body, minor head wound but no sign of concussion."
Clarke nods.
"No sign of traumatic brain injury or internal hemorrhaging, left foot lost on scene."
"Wait, what-" Bellamy chokes, head snapping back to stare at his sister. "What do you mean she lost her fucking foot-"
Clarke jumps forward, snatching the tablet out of Charlotte's hand and shooing the intern out the door.
"No," she says loudly, trying to cut through the noise of Bellamy's shouting. "No, boot, she was reading my notes and she made a-"
"Oh my god." Bellamy is staring at his sister in horror, who looks more bemused than anything else, the painkillers already kicking in to confuse her. "I can't beli-"
"BELLAMY!" Clarke shouts, and he finally stops babbling long enough to look at her. "Octavia's feet are fine, look." She throws back the sheets to reveal two slightly scraped, but entirely functional feet. He stares at them for a moment, then lets out a jagged breath.
"Christ," he mutters, and Clarke walks around the bed to pull up a chair for him to sink into.
It's silent for a moment, only the mechanical sounds of the equipment and Bellamy's uneven breathing cutting through the quiet. Then Octavia giggles.
"It's not funny," mumbles Bellamy, scrubbing a hand over his face. But Clarke can't help it, the corners of her own mouth twitching, and soon she's joining in, leaning against the wall for support. He glares at the two of them, but even he succumbs eventually, and they all laugh until Clarke has to wipe tears from her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she tries to apologize, "that was really unprofessional."
He just shrugs, and Octavia grins dopily up at the two of them.
"It's okay."
Clarke glances down at Octavia, whose eyes are slowly drifting shut.
"Um," she whispers. "Do you want to go into the hall to talk? She could probably use the rest."
He nods, and follows her out into the hallway.
"She's really okay?" are the first words out of his mouth, his eyes burning into hers.
Clarke places a hand on his shoulder, smiling gently.
"She's really okay. She's going to need physiotherapy to make sure that she regains a full range of motion as her shoulder heals, and I told her she wouldn't be riding her motorcycle again anytime soon, but she'll make a full recovery."
"God." Bellamy leans against the wall, and Clarke joins him, their arms touching.
"I know it's scary," she says, because she does. She's been on both sides of the hospital experience. He laughs, and she can hear the strain beneath it.
"I don't think I've ever been that terrified," he admits. She reaches over to pat him on the shoulder, and he traps her hand there with his own.
"She thought you'd be mad."
He turns to look at her, confused.
"That's one of the first things she said when she came in. 'My brother is going to kill me.' I told her not to worry about it, but I didn't know she was your sister at the time."
He snorts.
"Well, she was right. But I'll wait until she's feeling better to yell at her about the bike. So," he cocks his head, studying her. "you're a doctor."
"Yup. A trauma surgeon actually."
He frowns.
"Trauma surgeon? But…O wasn't a surgical patient was she?"
Clarke shakes her head.
"No. I normally would have handed her off to another doctor after we determined that she was a nonsurgical case, but…" She shrugs. "I thought it might help if you knew the person who was treating her. Even if you do think I'm an alcoholic."
He laughs again, and this time it sounds a lot lighter.
"I don't think you're an alcoholic, I haven't even seen you at the bar since that night. And…thanks." His voice drops when he thanks her, and her stomach clenches uncomfortably.
"I owed you. And besides, I like your sister. She seems…brave." But even as Clarke says so, she remembers the way the brunette's eyes had clouded over at the mention of physio.
Stifling a yawn, Bellamy rolls his eyes.
"You have no idea."
"She didn't seem big on the idea of physio," Clarke adds curiously. "When I mentioned it she seemed to quiet down pretty quickly." His eyes snap over to her and he freezes. The he smiles, but she can tell it's forced.
"She's probably just mad that she won't be able to get back on the bike for a while," he says casually, too casually. She knows there's more too it, but it's not really any of her business, so Clarke hums in agreement.
"I should probably get going. I have some other patients to check on," she murmurs, pulling away from the wall and straightening up. "Octavia needs to stay overnight for observation, just in case. But you can take her home in the morning. If the nurses try to give you shit about visiting hours, just tell them you're a friend of mine."
He nods, and Clarke thinks again how tired he looks. She's halfway down the hallway when she hears her name. Turning back, she sees Bellamy hurrying toward her.
"Everything okay?"
"Uh, yeah," he shifts his weight, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to say thank you."
She blinks.
"You already did."
"Yeah," he waves that off. "I know. I just, I really mean it. You know what it's like to lose family, and I just…" He shrugs. "Thank you."
Touched, Clarke leans in, brushing her lips against his cheek.
"You're welcome." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a card, handing it to him. "If you need anything, or if you just want to talk…" she trails off as he takes it from her, watching him read it.
"Thanks." He looks up, holding the card. Clarke just nods stiffly, and then walks away again.
She's already in the elevator when it clicks, the look on Octavia's face when Clarke took her in for all the scans, and then mentioned physio on top of everything else. Bellamy's fake smile when she mentioned it, the grad student who's been supporting his sister since he was fourteen years-old, who works nights in a bar.
"Damnit," she mutters, holding the button she just pressed until the light goes off, and then punching a different one. The woman beside her, an orthopedic surgeon named Callie, watches this and frowns.
"Hey Griffin, since when do you hang out in Accounting?"
Clarke sighs.
"I don't. But I have something to take care of."