The thing was that Clarke Griffin had always wanted to be a mother.
Her certainty about it was so deep-seated, so ingrained, that it was just a part of who she was. She'd never questioned it, or looked for any deeper meaning behind her desire for motherhood, but simply accepted the idea that her life was going to include having children.
Someday, of course. That was the caveat. No need to rush it. She'd been raised on that line of thinking by her mother, Abby.
"There'll be plenty of time for a family once you've earned your medical degree," Abby had told her. And then it was, "You should wait until you've finished your residency, at least." And after that, "You really need to get some experience in your specialty under your belt. Then you can think about having a child."
Of course for Abby it had all been easy and uncomplicated. She'd met the very supportive Jake Griffin in undergrad school, they'd gotten married while she was in med school, and had managed to find time to produce Clarke while Abby wound up her residency.
But Clarke hadn't had the same kind of luck in finding a mate. Or even just a partner who might be interested in having a kid. Because she definitely didn't require marriage, or even some kind of all-consuming love, as a precursor to mutual parenthood. Which was a good thing, because by the time she was thirty-one, she'd already figured out that she wasn't sure if she believed in either one.
Or maybe it was simply that for Clarke, they just weren't in the cards.
Wells had been a fantastic friend, and although he now lived far enough away that she rarely saw him, she still loved him dearly. But in hindsight, it was clear that she never should have listened when he'd insisted their longstanding friendship could become something more. Something… physical. The unmitigated disaster that had followed had happened in undergrad school, and Clarke felt lucky that they'd even been able to salvage their friendship.
Her love life had only gone downhill from there.
None of her college relationships had seemed to last beyond a few dates, but then halfway through med school, she thought she'd finally found that special someone. For quite a while, things with Lexa had seemed so right, so promising… until the woman suddenly left town in anger after months of trying — and failing — to control Clarke's life decisions.
Clarke had eventually rebounded with Niylah, but that relationship had been paper-thin, and deep down, she'd known it.
It was a few years later, after she'd come to Ark City General for her ER residency, that she met Finn Collins. He was a surgical resident, so she supposed she should have known better. But he'd seemed so solid, so caring — such a nice guy — that after only six months of dating she was already beginning to consider his potential as father material. Until she learned, quite by chance, about the long-term girlfriend he'd left behind back in his hometown. And had somehow never gotten around to breaking up with.
And even after the fallout from that revelation, Collins had had the balls to stay on at Ark City General, despite Clarke having accepted a position as an attending in the ER.
He'd just shrugged away her outrage.
"Sorry, Clarke," he'd told her, although from his smug expression she doubted if he gave even half a shit. "I guess you're just gonna have to put up with running into me around here. Working on Kane's surgical team is too good an opportunity to pass up."
That had been two years ago, and although Finn Collins sightings were now little more than a minor blip of annoyance in her daily routine, the whole sorry mess had left her with a huge distaste for, and distrust of, long-term relationships.
But… she still wanted those kids! Or just one. Clarke told herself that even one child would be enough.
At only thirty-three, she might have considered she still had plenty of time to make that happen, but for Clarke that wasn't the case.
Somewhere along the line she'd got it into her head that she needed to become a mother by the time she was thirty-five. Young enough to still have the energy required to deal with both a demanding career and raising a child. And try as she might, she couldn't seem to shake off that timeline that she'd long ago set for herself.
With no suitable relationship in sight, Clarke would have been a lot more stressed about the time crunch if she hadn't had a backup plan. If she weren't well aware that there was another — perhaps less conventional but certainly eminently feasible — method of getting pregnant. It was an expensive solution, but a sizable inheritance from her grandfather Griffin had made that a non-issue for Clarke.
She'd been telling herself for months now that it was time to get off her ass and pursue that option, but so far she hadn't been able to make herself pull the trigger.
Which she knew was pretty dammed stupid.
Considering that she was bisexual, there'd always been the possibility that she'd end up with a female rather than a male. In which case, artificial insemination would have certainly been her only path to motherhood. Of course in that case she'd have had someone to take the plunge with. A loving partner to help her find just the right donor. As it was, the thought of making such a decision on her own was utterly daunting.
Overwhelmingly so.
Every time she looked into it, found a new, reportedly more successful clinic, it always came down to the same thing: how the hell could she choose a biological father for her child with nothing more to go on than a couple of pictures and bunch of bullet-pointed personality traits.
So here she was. Stuck. Two possible paths to her goal, and she was totally unable to take either one.
It was frustrating as hell.
Good thing she'd chosen a demanding career that filled her days and took up most of her headspace. Giving her little time to agonize over the fact that her life wasn't exactly going as planned.
Only in those few moments, late at night, while she waited for sleep to overtake her exhausted body, did she allow herself to worry about how the hell she was ever going to find a way to fix it.
XXXXXXXXXX
In the ER, Saturdays night shifts were almost always the worst.
Since most private medical practices were closed on the weekends, the minor emergenciestended to quickly fill up the ER waiting room. Clarke was grateful for the new urgent care facilities that had sprung up lately, since they took many of those cases off their hands. But even they closed their doors in the evenings.
And then there was the usual round of Saturday night chaos. Too much alcohol, leading to brawls and bar fights, not to mention the car accidents and occasional heart attacks.
Which was why she'd been grateful that this particular Saturday night, a warm one in late September, had so far been relatively quiet. So quiet, in fact, that Clarke, who was halfway through a double shift she'd taken on to cover for a sick colleague, had even managed a quick nap in the on-call room.
From which she was woken abruptly when the head ER nurse, Harper McIntyre, slammed open the door.
"Clarke! Looks like they're coming in with a bad one. Car versus motorcycle."
"Oh, shit!"
She was instantly awake, her body trained by years of similar wakeup calls, her mind already anticipating what she might find when the patient arrived.
By the time she got to ambulance bay doors, the paramedics were already wheeling the gurney through, the older guy talking a mile a minute as he bombarded Clarke with information about the victim.
"She was unconscious when we got to the scene, then we almost lost her in the rig. Had to use the paddles." He followed that up with some vital statistics. "She's stable now but pretty banged up. Lots of trauma to the head and face, and she's lost a lot of blood."
Clarke nodded, appreciating his thorough update. "Thanks, Nyko. We've got her now."
She swung into gear without a thought, quietly snapping out orders to the nurses as they moved the patient into one of the trauma rooms and hooked her up to the monitors. They began to assess her, all of them working together like a well-oiled machine.
Ark City General didn't have as comprehensive an emergency department as some of the bigger hospitals in the state, but Ark City was still the largest metropolitan area in the region, and Clarke and her colleagues had pushed hard for the best equipment the hospital could afford.
"Yeah, I know we're not one of the big-name trauma centers," she'd told the top brass over and over again. "But for twenty miles in any direction we're the only game in town. So if we can't save them here, where they gonna go?"
And when this kind of case rolled through the doors, she was doubly glad she'd fought so hard for every piece of equipment and every diagnostic tool that might now be available to save this girl's life.
With the patient stabilized for the moment, Clarke began to examine her more thoroughly.
She frowned.
"How bad was this accident? I mean… was it a high-speed crash on the interstate? Because her head seems pretty banged up."
The paramedic shook his head. "Nope. A downtown intersection. The woman driving the car was pretty upset, said the motorcycle just blew through a red light and practically ran right into her."
"But still…"
Nyko shrugged. "Thing is, I don't think she was wearing a helmet. At least… we couldn't find one at the scene. I always check because it helps us know what we might be dealing with."
"No helmet? Jesus!" Clarke shook her head in frustration. Day in and day out, she dealt with the consequences of the foolhardy decisions made by people who somehow thought they were invincible. Sadly, they were very often young people. Just like this girl.
Clarke only hoped that her youth might help her live to see another day.
"Okay," she said, sighing heavily as she considered such a needless tragedy. "She's going to need immediate surgery, so I hope Kane's on call today. Can you check?" she asked Harper, who gave her a brisk nod before she turned to go.
When Clarke noted the ambulance crew packing up their equipment, she suddenly realized she'd forgotten something important.
"Wait!" she said, halting both Harper and the paramedics. "Did you get her name?"
"Oh, shit, yeah! Sorry, doc." Nyko pulled a wallet from his pocket and handed it to Clarke. "I found this at the scene. Name's Octavia Blake."
Octavia. Interesting name.
She passed the wallet to Harper without opening it.
"After you reach Kane, see if you can find an emergency contact in there. Ask them… tell them they should get down here right away. She's stable for now, but you know how fast that can change."
Harper nodded again. "I'll do my best."
The more Clarke examined the still-unconscious Octavia, the more concerned she became about the damage to her head. Without the protection of a helmet, she'd suffered severe contusions to the back of her skull. But what Clarke was at least as concerned about was the damage to her face. She had so many broken bones that Clarke wondered if even Kane could repair it all. And even if he could, and the girl survived the surgery, Clarke knew she'd be looking at a long convalescence.
When Kane showed up several minutes later, he agreed with her assessment.
"Such a waste," he said, rechecking her eyes with a penlight. "Has she regained consciousness at all?"
"No. And the paramedics had to revive her once on their way in. But her airways are clear."
Kane nodded. "Good. The sooner we get her up to surgery, the better. Any luck on the next of kin?"
"Harper's working on it," she began, only to be interrupted by a sudden loud beeping sound.
"She's down!" one of the nurses said, her eyes focused on the heart monitor.
Clarke rushed forward, immediately beginning chest compressions.
"Come on, Octavia," she muttered under her breath, her arms moving up and down with a practiced rhythm. "You can do it."
But Kane had already grabbed the defibrillator from the corner and was charging it up.
"Clear!" he shouted.
Clarke pulled away, giving Kane enough space to apply the paddles to Octavia.
Thwack. The electric charge crackled.
She glanced up quickly at the monitor. Nothing.
"Try again, Marcus," she said quietly, working hard to tamp down the fear that always coursed through in these situations.
He nodded, increasing the voltage slightly.
"Clear!"
And this time it worked. This time Octavia's heart began to beat again with a steady regularity.
The nurse eyed the monitor and nodded. "We have sinus rhythm."
For a second Clarke allowed herself to feel some small measure of relief, and then everyone moved at once.
"We need to get her upstairs now!" Kane barked, as the nurses began to unhook Octavia from every piece of equipment that was tying her to that room.
Clarke pivoted quickly to head towards the doorway… only to find herself nearly crashing headlong into a body that was suddenly blocking the exit. It was a man, wild-eyed and clearly frantic, who hadn't been there seconds earlier.
"What the hell is going on here?" he shouted. "Where… where's Octavia?"
Kane struggled to wheel the patient past him, but the man stood unmoving, visibly shaken when he caught sight of the body on the bed.
"Oh, my god! Octavia?"
Clarke could see he was distraught, but dammit, he was also in the way. She tried to grab onto his arm, to push him aside, but he pulled away from her roughly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he said, although he barely looked at her.
Kane was irate. "Clarke, get him out of there!"
And somehow she was able to find the strength to shove the man aside just enough for Kane to clear the doorway and move his patient quickly down the hall towards the bank of elevators.
The man tried to follow, but she grabbed onto him, just managing to hold him back.
"Sir! Please! Are you Octavia's husband? Or… boyfriend?"
"Brother," he corrected, his voice sounding suddenly tired. His gaze dropped to where she had hold of his arm, focusing for the first time on exactly who it was who was keeping him away from his sister.
And all at once, like air hissing out of a balloon, his anger seemed to dissipate. Clarke had worked in the ER long enough to anticipate what might be coming next.
"Come on," she said, pulling at him hurriedly before she had to pick him up off the floor. "Let's sit down over there and I'll tell you what's happened."
"Okay," he said, his gait unsteady as she moved them both to a row of empty chairs just outside the room.
"So… Mr. Blake, then?"
"Yeah." The reply was so quiet, she could barely hear it.
"Mr. Blake, your sister's been in a pretty bad traffic accident. She's sustained a lot of injuries, some broken bones, possibly internal bleeding. Dr. Kane and his surgical team will be working out the best way to help her, and believe me, she couldn't be in better hands."
When Octavia's brother simply stared at her, blank-faced, Clarke recognized the signs of shock and hoped he wouldn't require medical attention himself.
"Broken bones?" he said finally. "Internal bleeding? But what about… her face?" His voice had dropped to a whisper. "I… couldn't even recognize her. Was she… was she hit by a truck or something?"
Clarke shook her head, her soft heart aching for this grieving stranger as she tried very hard to let only the appropriately professional level of sympathy seep into her tone.
"No, she wasn't. But the paramedics thought that… your sister might not have been wearing a helmet."
"Oh, fuck!" It was more a wail than a word. "We had a fight and she just… stormed out and then I heard her bike… and yeah," he closed his eyes as his voice trailed off, "her helmet was still in the hall when I ran out to come here."
She saw quick tears spring to his eyes, and Clarke knew what he was feeling, this brother who clearly loved his sister very much. She'd seen it all before. Felt it all before. Worry. Grief. Guilt.
"Do you want to go up to the surgical floor waiting room? I can have someone take you up and show you where it is? Or maybe… the chapel? That's right next door here…"
He shook his head. "Not really religious."
"Okay, but it's quiet in there, and you could maybe just sit…"
"Couldn't I just stay here?" The question was soft, but his eyes were begging. They told her he didn't think he could make it another step.
"Is there someone I could call for you?"
He shrugged. "No one I'd want to bother at this hour. And," he choked out the words, "I don't really know Octavia's friends."
"Okay," she said, making an impulsive — if unorthodox — decision. "As long as it stays quiet like this, you can wait here. Why don't you settle in and if you want, I'll bring you some coffee."
He nodded. "Thanks, uh…"
He squinted vaguely at the ID badge attached to the lanyard hanging from her neck.
"I'm Dr. Griffin," she said, although she wasn't sure he even heard her. "I'll be right back."
There was a vending machine in an alcove in the hallway, but Clarke knew from experience it served up a disgusting brew. Instead, she pulled a ceramic mug down from a shelf in the break room and poured him a cup from a pot that looked like it had just been made.
When she got back, one of the aides was sitting with him, entering information into a tablet.
Clarke handed him the coffee.
"Did you get what you needed, Mel?" she asked the girl, who was already rising from her seat.
Mel nodded. "Enough to get Octavia into the computer and set up a patient number. That's all I need for now."
For the next couple of hours, Clarke continued to treat whoever came through the ER, thankful there were no other cases as critical as Octavia Blake. And when she had a moment or two between patients, she returned to the worried brother, dropping down beside him into one of those uncomfortable chairs. They said very little, but there was something about the way he looked at her each time she returned that made her think her presence might be bringing him some kind of comfort.
At 11, when they'd still heard nothing from surgery, she asked Mel to run up and find out what she could. But when she returned, the girl had little to report.
"Octavia's still in surgery," she told them.
Clarke's double-shift finally ended at midnight, and after a 16-hour day she was exhausted and ready to go home. But she couldn't bring herself to just abandon the man still sitting alone in the ER. At the very least, Kane needed to know where to find him.
"Look," she said, perching on the edge of a chair next to him, "I'm going to be leaving now, but before I go I'd really like to bring you up to the surgical floor waiting room. What do you think?"
He eyed her for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay, let's go."
They were silent as they took the elevator up two flights, then turned down several long corridors to get to the other side of the building. When they finally reached surgery, Clarke saw that the nurse on duty was someone she knew.
"Hi, Maya, this is Mr. Blake. His sister's been in surgery with Dr. Kane's team for several hours now."
She turned to him.
"Maya will be here if you have any questions, Mr. Blake…"
"Don't keep calling me that!"
The words burst out of him suddenly, almost angrily. It was the most emotion he'd shown since his initial outburst hours earlier, and Clarke was taken aback.
"Wh-what?"
"I'm sorry," he said, sighing softly. "You've been nothing but nice to me and I really didn't mean to jump down your throat like that. It's just… I get called 'Mr. Blake' all day long, but the thing is … he's that other guy, the one I leave at school, the one who isn't worried sick about his sister."
Dr. Griffin understood perfectly.
"I get it, " she nodded. "So… who's this guy then?"
"I'm Bellamy."
Impulsively, she thrust out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Bellamy. I'm Clarke."
Bellamy stared at her hand for an instant before finally reaching out to grab it. His hand was rough but warm, and when he looked up and met her eyes Clarke felt a totally unexpected jolt of awareness. Which she immediately and ruthlessly suppressed.
She dropped his hand quickly, jerking her head toward the hallway behind her.
"This way," she said, leading him to a small room that contained a few couches and chairs, all of which were currently unoccupied.
Bellamy fell tiredly onto one end of a couch, but instead of turning to go, Clarke found herself dropping down beside him.
He glanced over at her in surprise.
"Weren't you just leaving? You must be beat."
She shrugged. "Tomorrow's my day off. I can catch up on my sleep then. So I can wait with you a while longer." But then a new thought struck her. "Unless… would you prefer to be alone? I mean, I don't want to intrude..,"
"No," he said quickly. "Please. I'd like it if you stayed."
"Then I will," she told him, settling in, "at least for a little while."
But she was still waiting at 2 a.m. when Marcus Kane finally emerged from surgery, his face reflecting his surprise at finding her there.
"Octavia survived the surgery," he told them. "We had to remove her spleen and set the bones in her left arm, and there was also extensive trauma to her head and face. But now we need to wait for her to wake up. And then we'll see what's next."
Bellamy slumped forward with what Clarke knew was probably a feeling of relief. But she also knew that even if she eventually made it, Octavia Blake's recovery would be long and hard, and that it had only just begun.