Chapter 6:

The early hours of pure, utterly terrifying darkness were the equivalent of psychological torture.

It was during one of these insufferable hours that Clarke brushed her hand through Charlotte's damp hair, murmuring the beginnings of a lullaby with a low, sleep soaked rasp to her voice. The blonde continued at a religious rate to banish the relentless demons from the little girl's mind but some night were awful. Her sleep deprivation allowed her to hallucinate momentarily on the idea that Charlotte, Bellamy and she would have to tackle the problem before the baby was born. The sleep tinged her usually rational mind, letting her imagine a family of sorts until Charlotte's whimper pulled her back into the dreadful reality. She took the opportunity of clarity to send sharpened daggers in the direction of Octavia Blake.

If Clarke could not read the certainty spilling from her soft glances, she would pushed the matter concerning the grounder's escape. At this rate of fatigue, she would have screamed or pulled hair to establish the true definition of a full on cat-fight if she didn't see that look in her closest friend's blue-green eyes. The radiant flicker, the radioactive glow erupting from Octavia's irises could be compared to a goddamn lighthouse and she could not, for the life of her, find the necessary words to fill the void the heap of brown, tangled hair created. As if on cue, Octavia yawned obnoxiously only to cause Charlotte to stir.

She was in a bit of a daze, eyes zoned in on the flutter of the tent flap. The wind was picking up, eliciting a series of goosebumps across her skin. Her eyes closed entirely too long before Charlotte let out another loud cry. Her irritated exhaustion picked up with every noise. I need to be more patient, she thought after taking a few deep breaths, because I can't get annoyed with the baby. I really shouldn't be annoyed with Charlotte either…it's not her fault. Her hand brushed over her hair once more before she shifted her body.

It was incredibly late and she should be sleeping but she could no longer find rest. Her mind was a jungle—leaves and vines threatening to suffocate her until she released a series of half-thought out confession. "Octavia…" Clarke whispered, "Can you handle this?" Her hand indicated the mostly sleeping bundle at her feet and Octavia nodded. There was guilt in her eyes and Clarke wasn't above using it against her. "I have to…I just need some air."

Her arms adjusted to the extra weight of her jacket before she stepped out of her tent and made a direct bee-line towards her—what was the slang? Baby daddy? Clarke snorted because she never thought she would be one of those girls. Clarke was hardly irresponsible, hardly reckless and now she had the perfect example of why she'd never done something so careless before. It was a life lesson, there are consequences for her actions. Unfortunate, but debatably good consequences in this case. Her quick intake of breath before entering the tent moved a shiver down her spine. She'd been trying to avoid this area ever since the incident.

On impulse, she approached his bed and ran a hand across his face much like she did with Charlotte. It was a sweeping gesture so she could see his eyes better once they opened. Clarke repeated the action, quite amused that he was in such a deep sleep. There were little bits of guilt dotting her blue eyes but once his eyes widened with her touch, they vanished. He jerked back before he croaked, "Clarke?" His eyebrows furrowed in shock and then concern. "Are you okay? Is…is the baby okay?" His voice was much softer than before.

"Yeah…Bellamy, I…I was just thinking about this entire situation, you know? And I—I don't know if I even deserve to be pregnant. I'm not patient, I'm stubborn and mothers aren't supposed to be completely bull-headed on subjects. I should know how to compromise. What if our child hates me? What if our child leaves me to be adopted by Murphy or something? I'm pretty sure my mom is going to disown me at this point—she really didn't like it when I told her I was keeping the baby and I'm confident it's going to be extremely difficult to fix our relationship in the months to come. And you, you Bellamy Blake are making it entirely difficult—"

"Breathe, Princess…you can't wake me up and hit me with this tornado of thought. Give me a moment to wake up and adjust to the darkness." He moved a hand over his face before moving to his side. "I don't like the position you're in—" He pointed to her crouching legs before his eyes moved back to her face. "—join me?" Clarke bit her lip before she stood and unceremoniously fell beside him. At first, he did not try to touch her. Then, as if he could not contain himself, he placed a hand on her flat stomach. His palm burned through the fabric of her jacket and her thin cotton shirt like a heated blade. Her breathing stopped altogether and he seemed to notice because he brought his eyes to her face. "There is not a doubt in my mind that we can do this…I'm not saying that it will be effortless, that there won't be a struggle but if anyone can do this…it is us."

And just like his sister, he was so certain.

Due to her lack of words, she found herself cupping his hand with her own while intensely meeting his eyes. She hadn't regained the ability to breathe correctly, yet but she felt her muscles relaxing. It was so difficult to process this side of Bellamy Blake. It was also extremely confusing and it made her entire world tremble as if a series of earthquakes were taking place in her shielded heart. "You barely tolerate me." She whispered, "We hardly like each other…how are we going to do this?" She still had a shaky definition of this but the way his eyes lingered on her lips, the way they darkened with her voice made her think that there could be something.

"Who we are, and who we have to be to survive are two very different things…maybe we should get to know each other for who we really are." Bellamy suggested, "I should probably know something other than the way you like it when you're constrained."

A blush started to rise on her cheeks at the mention of their night together, "I do not like to be constrained, Bellamy." She argued adamantly, "The fact that you were holding my wrists like that says that you like control in the bedroom—or the flimsy tents in which we live."

He shrugged, "I won't argue with you on that point but you did enjoy it, Princess."

"I entertain the concept of being able to draw although, I wouldn't brag about my abilities. It's simply a hobby." Clarke cleared her throat, definitely wanting to get off the subject of sex due to their proximity. "Before…" It was actually a lot harder to talk than she thought it would be, "…we were sent to the ground, before I just knew that I only had a month to live…I promised myself I would fill the entire floor with these ridiculous drawings so whenever they killed me, they would have to look at it. They would have to see my work." She snorted, "Plus, it was more of a fuck you considering they would eventually have to clean it up."

"Octavia is my entire life." Bellamy said slowly because it was all he'd known since he was five. "Take care of her…do everything for her. I know this is the wrong time for this…I know that there are obstacles in our way but I never thought I would have a family. How could I when there was this secret I had to keep? I don't even know what my mom's plan was in the first place… how did she expect her to live, Clarke? How did she expect her to survive underneath the floor for the rest of her life? So, as much as I know we aren't prepared to be parents…I am not angry or depressed with the concept. In a fucked up way, all my irrational dreams are coming true. I'm not a janitor anymore, I've got a family, and Octavia can walk farther than eight feet…how do you feel?"

Clarke sighed, "I'm worried more than anything. I'm not sure of my own abilities or if we can actually survive here…" It took her a moment to muster up the courage to move in for the figurative gold, "I'm scared I'm going to have to do this alone."

"I already—"

"You aren't trying to save yourself." Her tone elevated and she turned to her side, removing his hand from her stomach. She thought she might be crossing boundaries but if her child was involved, maybe she had the right. "Bellamy…talk to Jaha. Please, because they're going to be down here soon and if I…god, if something happens to you and I'm left alone and pregnant with my mother… I don't know how I'll handle it. I don't know if I can handle this alone. You said you wouldn't leave me to answer the questions you answered for Octavia…well, don't. Don't make me tell them the story of their grandfather who got floated because he wanted to save people and don't make me tell them the story of their father who made this camp work, and run, and efficient and got executed for—"

"For shooting an innocent man."

Clarke scoffed, "Jaha may be a family friend but he is far from innocent."

He took an uneasy breath before a smirk stretched across his face, "Them?"

Her blush returned, "You know what I mean…"

Bellamy scooted closer, his arm positioning around her waist to bring her closer to his chest. His nose nuzzled her hair before he roughly whispered, "And what if I don't get pardoned, Clarke? What then?"

"If he does not pardon you…then—then we run. Maybe I was wrong before when I said we needed the Ark…maybe we can do it by ourselves." Clarke was reaching because she really didn't want that type of responsibility. But, there was barely a doubt in her mind when it came to the ability of the camp to grow and prosper. They were struggling, sure but it wasn't as if the Ark was offering up supplies in the first place. They were forcing them to do it by themselves—they were successfully doing it by themselves. "Wells will stay for his father…maybe, I don't know."

"He came to Earth for you." Bellamy breathed, "Because he is in love with you…he made that sacrifice for you. Wells is the better man and if anything were to happen to me—"

"Don't even go there…I'm not going to replace you with Wells. He killed my father. He did not press the button, he did not make the decision but Wells killed my father. Unforgivable—you don't do that to someone you love. You don't turn them in…you should understand that…would you ever turn Octavia in?"

"Never."

Clarke sighed, "I don't ever want to…I don't ever want you to suggest something like that again. You're the father, you will always be the father of this baby and I'm never going to think differently or wish differently or want differently. You're it no matter what."

"Is that an order?" He tried to lighten the mood.

"It's a direct order."

Review!

I felt like they needed to have this conversation and it's the first of many long ones.

Who should find out first?

I'm thinking about having Jasper and Monty do something really funny but I'm not sure yet. They're easy to write humor for.