Clarke woke up to a familiar warmth surrounding her, smiling as she stretched a little. It wasn't until she opened her eyes that she realized that although Bellamy was curled up beside her, they weren't on his couch.

Glancing at the ceiling and the bit of room she could see, it took her sleep-fogged brain a minute to realize they were at her house in a spare bedroom.

A sleepy smile crossed her face when she realized that even though they were in a queen-sized bed with more than enough room to stretch out, they'd still woken up tangled together, although more room had afforded them the opportunity to try sleeping in a new position; Clarke was laying on her back, while Bellamy was on his stomach, but his arm was still curled around her, holding firmly to her hip. Clarke had apparently decided it was a good idea to sort of hug his arm where it laid across her torso.

Their heads were turned toward each other on the pillows, and only a few inches apart, which Clarke noticed just a moment before Bellamy's eyes opened.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey," he responded, his voice still scratchy from sleep.

They laid there for a moment, as if in some sort of trance, just staring at each other.

Clarke contemplated how easy it would be for her to lean forward, just a few inches, and place her mouth on his. It would be so easy for her to turn on her side, for Bellamy to do the same, and for their bodies to be against each other in all the right places as they kissed.

She wasn't sure…she may have even started moving toward him…until she suddenly wondered what his reaction would be.

She was almost positive he wouldn't respond badly. After all, he was a red-blooded male, and she was aware he found her attractive, at least on some level. But what if he didn't think of her as anything other than a friend…a sister, even?

Her mind flashed back to their conversation last night. "What if it changes everything?" he'd asked.

What if it did? Maybe he would be opposed…and then things would be awkward between them. Or…what if he wasn't opposed…but saw it as some sort of 'friends-with-benefits' sort of situation?

Clarke didn't think she could handle either of those outcomes.

Or…even worse…what if they did try a romantic relationship, and it just didn't work?

They'd be forced back into being nothing in each other's lives, and Clarke knew she couldn't handle that; he meant too much to her.

So, when every part of her wanted to lean forward, she forced herself to slide away from him, scooting out from under his arm.

"I'm going to go shower. Go back to sleep for a few minutes if you want."

She barely waited to see his nod before grabbing the last towel in the house off the dresser and practically sprinting down the hallway to her bedroom, getting clean clothes before she came back out to the hall bathroom.

It wasn't until she'd already used the bathroom, turned on the shower, and started undressing that she remembered she didn't have a razor in this bathroom.

Sighing, she slipped her leggings back on and decided she might as well grab the good conditioner from her bathroom too while she was in there.

Opening the door, she headed for her room, pausing when she heard voices in the foyer just below her.

Frowning, she tiptoed over to the railing, looking down to find her mom and Bellamy both downstairs, standing a few feet away from each other and looking none too pleased.

"Why are you still here?" her Mom asked.

Even from a floor away, Clarke could see Bellamy's jaw lock. "Clarke asked me to stay."

"Did she ask you to do laundry, too?" Abby asked, referring to the laundry basket he was carrying, which was full of the wet towels from yesterday.

"No, but I thought I'd take care of them while she was in the shower."

Abby's lips pursed. "I wasn't aware you two were…seeing each other."

"Seeing each other?"

"Romantically," Abby said, grudgingly.

Bellamy was already shaking his head. "We're…not."

Abby's gaze flitted away from his. "Or…whatever you kids call it." She held up a hand. "And yes, I know my daughter is an adult and her sex life is none of my business."

Bellamy's feet shuffled slightly in agitation. "No, it's not. But we're not…anything. Don't worry, your little girl is safe from the likes of me," Bellamy practically spat, his face hard as he went to move around Abby, headed apparently for the laundry room.

Clarke frowned, confused by his comment and ready to go downstairs and ask what in the world was really going on. She stopped when she saw her mom put a hand to her forehead and turn around.

"Bellamy, wait."

He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"I was…out of line…before," Abby admitted reluctantly.

Bellamy finally turned to face her. "Which time?" he asked sarcastically.

Abby snorted. "Fine, I deserve that. Before…when you came to see me. I was wrong."

"You were."

"About everything?" Abby asked, and it was the first time neither of them seemed angry; Abby looked inquisitive while Bellamy looked uncomfortable.

"It doesn't matter," he said reluctantly, as if it was some sort of admission.

Abby chewed on the inside of her cheek, contemplating that for a moment before apparently deciding to let it go. "She's been…better…the last couple months…more like herself. I assume that's because of you?"

He shrugged.

Abby stood there for a minute, nodding before heading into the living room.

Clarke watched Bellamy head in the opposite direction, toward the laundry room, then she went back in the bathroom, turning the shower off and waiting.

A few minutes later, she heard footsteps going past the door and peeked out. When she saw it was Bellamy, she slipped out of the bathroom, following him into the guest room and pulling the door shut behind them.

He turned around, surprised. "Clarke! I thought you were showering?"

"I was about to, but I forgot something in my room. I came back out and heard you and my Mom downstairs."

His eyes widened a little. "…how much did you hear?"

"Pretty much all of it. Seriously, what the hell is going on?"

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "It doesn't matter, Clarke."

"Bellamy…I need to know why my best friend and my mother can barely stand to be in the same room and what you were talking about…'before'?"

He studied the floor somewhere near her feet.

"I need to know. And if you won't tell me…I'll have to ask her. But I still don't trust her, Bellamy." She took a step toward him, her eyes beseeching. "I'd rather hear it from you."

His eyes finally met hers, giving in. "You remember when I found you…when I asked you to come back?" he asked, uncomfortable.

Clarke nodded. Of course she remembered. It had been a few weeks after she'd abruptly moved out of the apartment she shared with Octavia and gone MIA. Everyone had tried to get in touch with her, leaving dozens of texts and voicemails…but probably no one more so than Bellamy.

And one night, he'd given up on using the phone and come to see her in person. She wasn't sure how he'd known where to find her…probably from Murphy…but he'd walked into the bar that Lexa practically ran, which had earned him dozens of terrifying looks from the less than hospitable people that Lexa surrounded herself with.

He'd marched straight to her, even though he practically had to run the gauntlet to do so, and asked to speak to her privately.

She'd wanted to refuse, but she also didn't like the looks he was receiving from others in the bar, so she'd agreed, going outside with him.

By the time they'd stopped outside the bar, the sidewalk seemed to be swaying back and forth like a piece of playground equipment, which made sense, given that she was both drunk and high, as she tended to be during that time period.

"Jesus Christ, Clarke, are you high?"

"What do you want, Bellamy? You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you, Clarke."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm really not in the mood for a lecture. Why don't you just go home so I can go back inside."

"Why don't you come with me?"

"I don't want to."

"Why? Why did you leave in the first place?"

She shrugged. "I didn't want to be there anymore."

"Clarke…I know you're going through something…I know you're hurting…but we can help you. Octavia, Raven, Jasper, Monty…we all just want to help you."

"I don't need help," she said stubbornly, staring resolutely at the wall beside Bellamy's shoulder.

"Clarke…don't do this."

"I'm just done, Bellamy."

"What do you mean you're done? You can't just…we're family, Clarke."

At that, she snorted. "Fuck family, Bellamy."

He looked taken aback. "Clarke…what's wrong?"

She finally looked at him, though it was with something like a challenge in her eyes. "My mom killed my dad…There, is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You really want to make me repeat it? Fine. My. Mom. Killed. My. Dad." she said, enunciating each word like he was a child or a simpleton.

He looked a mixture of crestfallen and confused. "Clarke…I don't understand. I thought your dad died in a car accident. Your mom wasn't even with him…was she?"

"It's her fault he's dead!" she shouted.

He took a step toward her, "Clarke…I don't…" he shook his head. "What do you want to do? Do you want to go to the police? Do you want to go confront her? Talk to me. Let me help you."

She was shaking her head. "I don't want your help. I don't want anything from you, except for you to leave me alone."

"Clarke, you don't mean that. You're hurting, and I get that, but now isn't the time to turn your back on the people who love you."

"I'm not the same person I was a month ago, Bellamy. I don't belong there anymore."

He frowned, getting in her face in his frustration. "So you belong here instead?! You belong in a seedy bar on the wrong side of town with a bunch of drug dealers and…Jesus Christ, Clarke, what…a gang?!"

She rolled her eyes. "They're not a gang. And yes, maybe this is exactly where I belong."

"Clarke, if you want to hate your mom…that's one thing. But why are you cutting the rest of us out? We didn't do anything to deserve this."

She shrugged. "I don't want to be there. I don't belong there." She started to turn around, presumably to head back inside. "Just leave me alone, Bellamy."

He grabbed her arm, turning her back around. He went for a last-ditch effort, changing tactics. "Clarke…you can't just run away and expect us to be okay with it. We need you in our lives."

She tugged against his hold. "No you don't."

"Yes, we do. Octavia has never had a friend like you. Did you know she refers to you as her sister? She's completely lost without you, Clarke. Lincoln is talking about reenlisting in a few months and she's trying so hard to keep it together…but she needs you."

Clarke had resumed staring at the wall over his shoulder. "She doesn't need me. She has you."

"Clarke…" he sighed, then locked his jaw, as if he'd come to some sort of decision. He stepped even closer to her, still holding on to her arm. "What if I need you?"

Her eyes swung to meet his, widening slightly, even as she insisted, "You don't."

He nodded. "I do. I need you, Clarke. I can't…I can't imagine my life without you in it. Come back with me. Please…come back with me?"

She looked conflicted for the first time since he'd seen her, her eyes searching his as she seemed to waiver, but she eventually forced herself back into line, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "I can't, Bellamy. Go home."

"Clarke…" he began, reaching for her again.

Just then, Lexa stepped outside, along with one of her 'non-gang' members, who looked about as friendly as a rabid dog.

Clarke spared him one last glance. "Don't come looking for me again, Bellamy. I'm not going back." She glanced at the goon standing beside Lexa. "And I can't promise that I can protect you if you come back here again, so just don't."

Bellamy had watched her go back inside with her new 'friends,' then promptly kicked a parking meter.

Present-day Clarke reached out to Bellamy, placing her hand on his forearm. "God, Bell, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean those things I said. I just…I was so determined to be angry and I couldn't let you fix me. But I never should have…"

He placed his hand on hers, smiling sadly. "I know, Clarke, it's okay."

"It's not, but we can talk about that later. What happened with my mother?"

He released her hand, stepping away from her to sit on the foot of the bed. "After that…after I saw how far gone you were…I was so worried…" He glanced at her quickly before looking away again, almost guiltily. "I went to see your mom."

Clarke's face registered her surprise, but after she thought about it for a second, she realized the logic behind his actions. "Okay. And?"

"…she was about as receptive to me as you were."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess she was feeling guilty and angry and whatever else too…because she was sort of a bitch about it."

Clarke sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. "What did she say?"

He let his elbows rest on his knees, clasping his hands and letting them hang as he hunched over. "I was trying to ask her what was wrong with you and, most importantly, what the plan was to get you back. She didn't appreciate my interference, apparently."

Clarke again placed her hand on his forearm. "What did she do, Bellamy?"

"Basically said that it was none of my business, and that maybe…if I'd been a better friend…you wouldn't have run away in the first place."

"Shit." She paused, staring at the floor for a minute as she processed. Then, she stood up. "Shit!"

Bellamy watched her warily.

She leaned down, grabbing his hand and pulling. "Come on."

He resisted her efforts, holding her in place. "Clarke…what are you doing?"

"She's not allowed to treat you like that. Especially when she couldn't be more wrong," she said vehemently.

"I don't want to cause more trouble between you and your mom. That's the last thing I want. Just…let it go. It's fine."

"It is NOT fine."

"She sort of apologized anyway…"

Clarke snorted. "That was not an apology."

"Clarke…don't…" Bellamy shook his head. "Just leave it alone."

"I'm going to talk to her. You can either come with me or not," she said, pursing her lips stubbornly.

Bellamy sighed, finally standing up and reluctantly allowing her to lead him downstairs.

When they rounded the corner into the living room, Abby looked up, glancing at the couple, then down at their hands, which were still joined.

Clarke wasted no time in getting to it. "Did you seriously try to tell Bellamy that it was his fault I left?!"

Abby looked taken aback by her daughter's question. "Clarke…I…"

"Never mind. I already know that you did. You know why? Because he told me…very reluctantly, I'll have you know. You know why? Because he didn't want to give us anything else to fight about, because Lord knows we have enough problems between us as it is. But I just couldn't understand why you were treating him like shit when he's never been anything but good to both of us, so I made him tell me."

Abby looked warily at Bellamy. "Clarke, we shouldn't be discussing this in front of anyone."

Clarke laughed humorlessly. "Bellamy already knows everything."

Abby frowned. "Clarke!"

She took a deep breath and grasped Bellamy's hand tighter, her next words calmer. "You are aware of the reason I left, correct?"

Looking away guiltily, Abby replied, "Yes."

"You do know that you were the only person I actually wanted to be away from, right?"

"But, Clarke…I've never understood why you left your friends too. Why didn't you go to them? You would have been…safer…with them."

Clarke glanced up at Bellamy, smiling sadly before she turned back to her mom. "Do you realize that I've been an adult since I was 12 years old? First, there was Wells dying, then there was you and Jaha becoming bosom buddies and our house being turned into a laboratory, then there was Dad moving out…then there was Dad dying…and I 'kept my chin up' for all of it. I didn't let it distract me from my homework or let it drive me to teenage rebellion…I didn't cry in public or melt-down or go to a shrink for anti-depressants…all of which would have been completely normal reactions, by the way. No, instead I kept going. I took care of everyone else. But this…it was too much. I had so much guilt and anger and betrayal inside me…and I didn't want to force it down. I wanted to revel in it. I needed to."

She looked back at Bellamy. "The reason I ran away from my friends…specifically from Bellamy…is because I knew he would make me feel better. He would've held me while I cried and listened to me while I screamed and told me everything was going to be okay. I would have felt better…like maybe the world wasn't ending…and I didn't want that. So really…I didn't run away from him because he wasn't a good enough friend. I ran away from him because he was too good of a friend."

Abby absorbed this speech, her gaze flitting back and forth between Clarke and Bellamy, before she finally nodded. "I was…upset…and trying to place blame somewhere…anywhere else, which was totally unfair. I hope you'll forgive me…both of you."

Clarke watched her mom, and while her apology seemed sincere enough, she wasn't sure her mother realized the magnitude of what Bellamy meant to Clarke…and just how wrong she'd been.

"I hate that you did that…but what I really don't understand is…why were you so hostile toward him now?"

Abby did have the decency to look ashamed now. "I guess I just didn't want to admit how selfish I'd been."

Bellamy discreetly tugged on Clarke's hand, which was still grasping his. "Thank you for apologizing, Mrs. Griffin." He nodded his head towards the stairs, "Clarke…"

She glanced at him, shaking her head, then looking back at her mom. "Mom…I need…" She paused, trying to figure out what she wanted to say to get her point across. "I need you to understand how important he is to me."

Abby again glanced down at their joined hands. "I think I'm beginning to."

Clarke shook her head. She needed to impart just how serious she was about this. "I just…you understand that I'm still dealing with a lot, right? I'm not over what happened…I don't think I'll ever be over it…and this internship is kicking my ass…and trying to rebuild some sort of a relationship with you…it's all so hard."

"I know," her mom admitted.

"Bellamy…he's…" she paused again, trying to figure out how exactly to say it. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she loved him, but that would be awkward; plus, she wasn't sure if it was sufficient to communicate the magnitude of what he was to her. "He's…the best part of my life. He takes care of me and he goes out of his way to make me feel better and he just…being around him makes me happy…even though I don't deserve any of it, given how I treated him."

At this, Bellamy squeezed her hand.

She continued, "And I need him to feel comfortable coming over here, so I need you to…stop. I…" She glanced at him again, seeing the tumultuousness written on his face. "He's my family," she finished simply.

A myriad of emotions were passing across Abby's face, including pain at the unspoken part of Clarke's declaration, 'He's my family…and you're not.'

Clarke wasn't sure she'd meant that so absolutely, but the fact was, she trusted Bellamy completely, without reservation, and she knew she could depend on him, no matter what. She couldn't say the same thing about her mom…not anymore.

They all stood there, glancing uncomfortably at each other.

Finally, Abby walked over to where Clarke and Bellamy were standing. She looked up at the man her daughter was still holding onto like a lifeline. "I'm glad Clarke has you."

Clarke watched her mom and Bellamy communicate something else silently, as Bellamy nodded in response.

"It's been a long day. I need to go get some sleep. I'll see you later, Clarke," Abby said, patting her daughter on the shoulder as she walked out the door.

When she was partway up the stairs, she paused. "Bellamy, you're welcome here any time, and I mean that."

"Thank you," he responded.

They waited until they heard her walk across the second floor and shut her bedroom door before they turned to look at each other.

Clarke was about to make a joke, something to try to lighten the mood, but Bellamy spoke before she could.

"Did you mean that?"

Clarke's eyebrows raised in question. "Which part? I mean…I didn't lie about anything though…"

"About me. About…" He cleared his throat, glancing away from her. "…what I am to you."

"Oh," she said softly. "Yes."

He was looking at her with that look on his face again…the one that she could have sworn said 'You're everything and I'm in love with you.'

Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes held hers. She was waiting…for what, she didn't know. Maybe for him to make the decision she'd almost made earlier that morning but hadn't been willing to risk.

He leaned toward her, closer and closer, and she was sure he was going to kiss her…until the last second, when he wrapped her in an impossibly tight hug instead, his arms banding firmly around her upper back.

While she was incredibly disappointed, she also breathed a tiny sigh of relief…because again…what if?

She slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him back.

They stayed that way for a moment, taking strength from each other, as they always did, until Clarke felt his arms relax minutely.

"You really didn't have to wash the towels for me, you know," she mumbled against his chest.

He chuckled against her hair, finally releasing her and stepping back, his smile a little sheepish.

She straightened her shirt. "Can you manage to stay out of trouble for like 20 minutes so I can go take that shower?" she joked.

He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Chuckling, she made her way back upstairs, trying to act like she couldn't feel his gaze follow her the entire way.

A/N: I know some of y'all are getting anxious for them to move on to the next step and, trust me, I get it. But I'm trying to keep their relationship very similar to the one we've seen onscreen, so they're both still at the 'you're my soulmate, but platonically for now, cause I'm too afraid to lose you' stage. They've both still got some shit to work out, ya know? But I'm getting there, I promise. :)