Clarke stood in the parking lot of Bellamy's building, unsure of how to proceed now.

She could text or call him, but given how they'd left things, he probably wouldn't answer. She could call Raven and ask her to come let her in the adjoining building and then walk through the courtyard to Bellamy's building, but she really didn't want to see anyone else right now. Her only other option was to hope someone else came out of the building soon so she could catch the door.

She stood in the parking lot for a few minutes, replaying everything he'd said to her earlier and seeing it in a whole new light. Truth be told, she was seeing everything in an entirely new light and she wondered how it had taken her so long.

Just as she was wondering if Bellamy even realized why he was so angry with her, the door to his building opened and a middle-aged man walking a golden retriever stepped out.

Clarke gave him a smile, hoping to indicate she wasn't up to anything nefarious, and walked quickly to catch the door before it swung shut.

By the time she walked inside, rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, and reached a door that had once always been open to her but she hadn't passed through in almost a year, she'd worried herself into being nervous.

What if he didn't want to listen? What if she (and Murphy) were totally off base and this really was about Octavia? What if she made a fool of herself?

Deciding that any of those things couldn't be worse than their current lack of a relationship, Clarke shifted the bags she was carrying to her left hand, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door of apartment 603.

After a minute or two, the door slowly opened.

Bellamy had apparently changed since he'd gotten home, now wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, which were riding low on his hips.

At first, he'd looked surprised to see her outside his door, but by the time her eyes had unconsciously wandered down his torso and then back up to his face, he looked pissed again.

"What are you doing here?" His brow furrowed even more. "How did you even get in here?"

"Waited for a guy with a golden retriever to go out."

"That's illegal."

One side of Clarke's mouth lifted involuntarily. "Pretty sure it's not."

He huffed. "Well it should be."

She smiled. "Bell…I need to talk to you."

Looking at the wall behind her, he rolled his eyes. "Pretty sure we already said everything down at the bar."

"I don't think we did." Her eyes pleaded with him. "Please?"

Sighing, he stepped back, letting her inside before shutting the door behind her. "Wait here," he said, walking into his bedroom.

Clarke had barely set the bags on his counter when he came walking back out, pulling a plain blue t-shirt over his head, messing his unruly curls up even more.

He leaned up against the side of the counter that separated his living room from his kitchen, crossed his arms, and gave her an expectant look. "So talk."

Unsure of where to begin, she stood there for a minute. She had so many things to say, she wasn't sure what should come first or how to get him to listen to her.

"Clarke…" he started, losing patience.

"Just hold on." Glancing at the bags on the counter beside him, she quickly pulled out what was inside.

Setting a giant take-out box of dumplings beside two Hostess pies, she turned to him, watching his reaction.

He scoffed. "What? You think you can fix everything with Panda Hut and some gas station pies?"

"No." She stepped closer to him. "It was probably stupid, but I was hoping…I don't know. I guess I was hoping it would be a peace offering…that it would remind you of…"

He continued frowning, apparently unimpressed.

"I was thinking about all those things you said to me. All those ways that Octavia and I became family."

"…and?"

"But Bellamy, almost all those things you mentioned…it wasn't just me and Octavia. You were there too. And I'm not even sure when it happened, but somewhere in-between you yelling at me for buying your sister dinner on my meal plan and me going on a ten-mile hike with you when you found out Octavia was dating someone older than you…you and I became family too. I'm really not sure why I never realized it, but I'm pretty sure you became my best friend. Probably even more so than Octavia. And you know how she started coming to me for advice? Well, I started going to you. There was no one I trusted more on this Earth. And…" She looked away for the first time. "…if you had abandoned me like I did you...I'm not sure how I would have handled that...I'm not sure if I could have handled that. So, I need to tell you I'm sorry again. But not for hurting Octavia. I'm sorry for hurting you."

He was avoiding catching her eye on purpose. "Don't be ridiculous, Clarke. This isn't about me."

She softened her tone. "Do you know how many times I picked up the phone to text you?"

His eyes flicked back to hers, surprised.

She smiled. "Most of the time it was about something stupid: there was a Star Trek marathon on TV or I'd run into that douchebag that kept trying to get me to go out with him senior year…"

Bellamy couldn't help but smile at that memory. After months of incessant harassment, Bellamy had pretended to be her boyfriend and threatened to kick the guy into next week if he didn't leave Clarke alone.

"So many things made me think of you. And I wanted to text you so many times, but then I realized I couldn't. Sometimes I would get so sad..or so goddamn angry…and everything in me wanted to talk to you. But I couldn't, because I'd pushed you away." By the time she was done speaking, her voice was barely a whisper.

They stood there, staring at each other for a moment before he responded in a tone just as soft as hers. "You still could have, you know."

Clarke's breath hitched in her throat. "Don't kill him or anything…but Murphy told me you used to ask about me."

"When did he tell you that?" Bellamy didn't even look that surprised.

"About 15 minutes ago."

Bellamy nodded. "It's not a secret I was worried about you."

"I know." Clarke messed with the zipper on her jacket. "But did he tell you I asked about you too?" She felt Bellamy's gaze on her and looked up to meet it.

"You did?" This time, he did seem surprised.

She nodded. "Of course I did. He told me when you got promoted to foreman on the construction crew. Acted like he was pissed about it, but I could tell he really wasn't. He respects you. And, Lord knows, he certainly doesn't want that much responsibility." She bit her lip. "He also told me about the party Octavia threw for you when you got the promotion. I wanted to come so badly…it didn't even occur to me that I couldn't. It was just so ingrained in me to be there for all the important stuff in your life…" She looked away, smiling self-deprecatingly. "I'd already gone out and got you presents before I realized I couldn't go."

He was watching her carefully, and for some reason, she felt like they were on a precipice, and whatever was said next determined which way they fell. "What did you get me?"

"What?"

"The presents-what did you get me?" he asked softly.

Clarke was pretty sure it was the most important question he'd ever asked her for some reason.

"Tickets to a Grounders game…" she said, referring to their local baseball team. "…and a pink hammer that's covered in rhinestones."

He snorted at the same time he reached for her.

She grabbed onto his arm, using it to pull him closer.

They ended up wrapped in a crushing hug standing beside his kitchen counter, and neither of them seemed inclined to leave it.

Clarke couldn't really tell whether she was laughing or crying, honestly it was probably a little of both, and she swore she heard a sniffle or two from Bellamy, whose face was buried in her hair. "It was the hammer that did it, right?" she asked facetiously.

She felt his low chuckle rumble through his chest. "It was definitely the hammer."

"I can go get it right now, if you want."

His arms tightened around her even more and his hand fisted in the hair at the nape of her neck. "Don't you dare."

She smiled, closing her eyes and taking a calming breath. "Thank God."

She wasn't sure how long it had been, but her left foot was well on the way to dreamland when Bellamy finally cleared his throat and loosened his grip on her a little, moving back slowly, almost reluctantly.

"We shouldn't let those dumplings go to waste, right?" he asked sheepishly.

"Definitely not," she replied, wiping her eyes as discretely as possible.

He nodded, motioning for her to have a seat in the living room while he walked into the kitchen.

Clarke took a moment to glance around, noticing that everything was pretty much exactly the same as when she'd last been here a year ago. A sudden thought occurred to her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. "Oh. Shit. I didn't even ask…is Gina here? Or is she coming over? I can…" she gestured to the doorway.

Bellamy waved his hand, acting as if the question was a silly one. He came into the living room juggling the box of dumplings, two sets of chopsticks, and two beer bottles. "Nah."

"Are you sure? She might think it's weird if she stops by…" Clarke glanced at her watch. "…at 1 am and finds me here."

"Don't worry about it," he said, completely unconcerned.

"Oookay," she replied, sitting down on the floor in-between the couch and the coffee table.

Bellamy sat one of the bottles down in front of her, then paused.

She glanced up, wondering why he wasn't joining her, and found him staring down at her with a soft smile on his face.

"What?" She asked.

He shook his head, as if to help clear it. "Nothing. I just…" he lowered himself to the floor beside her. "It's been a long time since I've seen you sitting there."

Clarke smiled, thinking back to the hundreds of times she'd eaten dinner in this exact spot.

Bellamy's apartment had a designated eating area, the stools at the counter in-between the living room and the kitchen, but they'd always ended up eating around the coffee table, usually because they were marathoning something on TV or else because it was just somehow more natural.

"Well, you better get used to it again. Because my ass isn't leaving this exact spot."

He smirked, handing her a pair of chopsticks. "You sure about that? Might get numb after a while."

She tapped the ends of her chopsticks on the table, evening them out so she could use them. "Okay. I'll alternate between the floor and the couch. Better?"

"Much better," he replied, taking the lid off the box of dumplings and setting it on the table in front of them.

They put on the TV, flipping through until they found the channel that showed classic sitcoms, although they left the volume low, preferring to chat about everything and nothing, occasionally glancing up when Jack would fall over the sofa or Chrissy would end up handcuffed to a stranger at the Regal Beagle.

They talked about her new job at the hospital, his new job as a construction foreman, and how Octavia and Lincoln were doing on the other side of the country. As if by some unspoken truce, they both refrained from bringing up anything from their year apart.

They'd plowed through most of the box of dumplings and another beer each by the time Clarke's eyes started getting heavy.

She was currently leaning up against Bellamy's side. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and was softly running his fingers up and down her upper arm.

At some point, the soft timbre of his voice had started lulling her to sleep.

She woke to him gently shaking her arm. "Hmm?"

"Go take my bed," he said softly.

She blinked quickly, trying to shake the sleep from her eyes. "No."

"Clarke…"

"No," she said stubbornly, not ready for tonight to be over yet. "I'm awake, I swear."

He sighed, although it was obvious he was also trying not to smile. "Fine. Then can we move to the couch? Because now my ass is asleep."

They both scooted up onto the sofa, and once he got comfortable, she again leaned against him.

He smiled, putting his arm in place around her again. "You sure you don't want to take my bed?"

"No. I'm watching this." She gestured to the TV, where Gilligan was trying, for the 732nd time, to get off the island.

"You are not."

"Am so. Gilligan is trying to get off the island. The Skipper just yelled at him."

"Clarke…" he laughed, shaking his head. "That is literally the plot to every episode."

"Yeah, including this one." She smiled up at him cheekily.

"Okay, fine. Was the Professor flirting with Ginger or Mary-Ann?"

She narrowed her eyes, as if contemplating her answer. "Trick question. He was flirting with both of them." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Dammit."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both still pretending to watch the TV.

After a few minutes, he asked softly, "Are you ever going to talk to me about what happened?"

She sighed against his shirt before leaning back to look at him. "Yes. I promise I'll tell you everything, but…not yet…okay? This…" She gestured between the two of them as tears came, unbidden, to her eyes. "…this has been a lot."

He gathered her close, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her against his chest. "When you're ready, okay? I just…" His hand ran up and down her spine, as if to soothe her. "…are you okay now? Are you doing better?"

Clarke realized she was practically sobbing into his neck, so it seemed sort of ironic when she leaned back a little to look at him and say, "I can honestly say…this…right now…is the best I've been in a year."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Cause…" He took her face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

She nodded, trying to see through her tears. "Yes. And shut up."

"Okay," he said simply, pulling her back against his chest.

It wasn't until a few moments later when she realized that he was the one comforting her, when it should be the other way around.

"Bellamy…why are you being so nice to me? I'm the one that's supposed to be apologizing to you," she mumbled against his shirt.

"So?" He continued rubbing her back.

"Stop it! Stop being so good to me! I don't deserve it!" Too many months of emotional upheaval were combining with too much alcohol and too little sleep and making her way more emotional than normal. She seemed to realize it, but she couldn't stop it.

"Clarke, it's okay," he said soothingly.

"It's not. None of this is okay. I'm sorry, Bell. I'm so so sorry." She wrapped her arms around his neck, not even realizing she'd crawled halfway into his lap as she burrowed her face into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

Bellamy seemed to be saying something, but Clarke didn't even hear him.

"I had a bunch of selfish, stupid reasons for doing it that made sense to me at the time…but leaving you sort of broke my heart. I can't even imagine…" She kissed the only part of him she could reach, which was his neck. "I'm sorry, Bellamy."

A shiver worked its way through him. "Clarke…you're back now, right?"

"Yes." She paused for a minute, nose still pressed into his neck. "YES," she repeated more definitively.

"Then that's all that matters. We'll figure the rest out later, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

She nodded, loosening her grip on his neck and moving back to his side, although she left one of her knees resting on his thigh, since it let her curl tighter against him.

His hand, now running soothingly through her hair, started lulling her back to sleep.

"Do you want to…"

"No," she interrupted, assuming that he was going to ask if she was ready to take his bed yet.

They sat there in a sleepy silence for a moment.

"You can go ahead in if you want. I can sleep out here," she suggested.

"No," he responded quickly. He leaned to the side, grabbing a folded blanket off the arm of the couch. Shaking it out, he covered them both, then tucked her more firmly against his side.

Completely content, she brushed her cheek against his chest in an almost feline manner. "I missed you," she said drowsily.

He waited until her breathing evened out and she relaxed against him before responding quietly. "I missed you too," he said, kissing the top of her head.