It's been three months and Bellamy couldn't believe she hasn't run. She hasn't even tried running away, she's been getting back into everyday life, and their friends have been nice and accepting about her return. She got a job as a receptionist at the hospital, thanks to her mother who was informed of her return by Kane after some interrogation, he caved relatively quickly.

"Happy birthday," she whispered in his ear, she's taken the habit of sneaking into his room at night and cuddling close to him. Not that he minded, but her not being his was difficult enough without her ass against his morning erection or her core rubbing against his upper thigh. He didn't want to push her, he couldn't lose her forever over something as trivial as sex.

He smiled, loving her rough voice first thing in the morning, always waking him up before his alarm. "Thank you."

"Are you excited for tonight?"

"All my favorite people hanging out together for the first time in four years? Hell, yeah."

Clarke tucked her face into his shoulder. She hates being reminded of what she did, even in a little way like saying that, it's not what he meant, it was just that she was the missing one and he wanted her to know that she is one of his favorite people. Fuck, he loves her.

"You working today?" he asked, squeezing her side.

She looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest, just above the wing of the tattooed crow across his chest and back, he didn't know why he got the crow specifically, but knowing now that he felt dead when she left. He never wanted to feel like that again, he didn't want to allow someone to hurt him so badly, only now realizing that there are only two people with the ability to hurt him like that. Two people that will always have the ability and hoped they never use it, Octavia and still, Clarke.

"No, it sucks, but I'm still celebrating with you."

Bellamy smirked, "Rebel without a cause."

Clarke smiled, they're both in good moods today. "Do you want your present?"

He looked at her on his shoulder with a skeptical look, "I get a present?"

"You can get it now or after your party tonight, but I'd prefer you sober."

"Oh, well then now," he smirked.

"Okay," she bit her lip. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Close your eyes." Her smile was wide and she sat up on her elbow.

"Why?"

"Bellamy, close your eyes."

He rolled his eyes and reluctantly closed them, knowing better than to try and peek.

He felt her move away from him, possibly to the edge, before rolling back to him, her hand back on his chest. He felt her breath across his cheek a moment before he felt her lips on his.

He groaned, ill prepared but still, his hands instantly gripped her waist, pulling her on top of him, kissing her properly. Her hand moved up to cup his jaw and damn he should have shaved, she pulled her hand away, placing it on his shoulder.

Fuck, he needed more. If this was all he's going to get, he wants it to be worth it. He flipped them over and Clarke squealed as his mouth consumed hers again, pressing their bodies together. God, she's perfect. Her legs wrapped around his hips, tugging him closer. He wished their clothes were off, fuck.

"You have work," she practically whimpered when he pebbled kisses down her throat. Fuck, he wanted to hear her say literally anything but that in that tone. Fuck.

Bellamy dropped his head on her shoulder. "You're such a tease," he chuckled.

"I'm not the one that has work," she said, combing her fingers in his hair.

"Is this all I get?" he raised his head, looking her in those stunning blue eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Do I get to kiss you whenever I want? Or just this once."

"Whenever you want, whenever I want. I just wanted us both to remember this."

"I'm going to remember you cock blocking me on my damn birthday."

"Hey, I'm not the one who has to work today."

"Mm, do I have to go?"

"Unfortunately," she smiled into his hair.

He looked at her and the fire in her eyes was all encompassing, "We'll continue this later?"

She sighed with a smile, "We better."

Bellamy rolled off her and sighed, not one of those happy sighs, but the "I hate my life" sigh. He hates the last day of school, there's no point to it, really. Finals are over and he has nothing to teach his students until next year. Why should he even go in? It's a glorified babysitting day. "I'm calling out. It's my birthday, I shouldn't have to work."

"Go to work, I'll be here when you get back. We're meeting everyone at O's at seven so that's three hours of whatever the hell you want."

"You're going to get ready in a half hour?"

"Yes, Bellamy, are you? You have work in an hour."

He rolled his eyes and got out of bed as slowly as he could. "You know, I'm really not feeling well, I shouldn't go in."

Clarke chuckled, "Shut up! Go shower and I'll make you coffee and cinnamon rolls."

"Cinnamon rolls?"

"Pillsbury," she smirked.

"You need to take a cooking class or something, you're killing yourself with all these processed foods."

"Do you want me to make anything or not?"

"Not, I'll stop at Harper's free pastry on your birthday."

"You're actually open about your birthday now? I had to force Octavia to tell me. I bribed her with… I shouldn't tell you," Clarke smirked and Bellamy bent back down and kissed her swiftly.

"I'm going to shower, please make coffee."

"I'm going back to bed, I don't have work today."

"You suck."

"Maybe later," she smirked, leaning up to kiss him again, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth.

He groaned, pulling away and shook his head fondly before gong to the bathroom to get ready for work.

Clarke went down to Harper's when she woke up again around ten and smiled at Jayden when he brought her an orange scone without her having to ask. "She's in the back."

"Of course she is," Clarke shook her head and walked into the back, finding an eight month pregnant Harper carrying a giant bag of flour. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Baking."

"No, duh, you can't carry that much weight, you'll induce labor early."

"I'm fine with that, get out of my belly baby!" She chuckled and Clarke laughed taking the flour from her and placed it on the counter for her. "Are you nervous?" Harper asked after a minute of silence.

"Insanely," Clarke smiled, she was more excited than nervous, Bellamy didn't know at all.

"So you're going to surprise him and he'll worry about what's going on, stressing because this is Bellamy and it's all he does." Harper began measuring out the flour for whatever she was baking.

"I know, you're coming, right?"

"Unless this alien decides to come within the next eight hours, yes. He's excited and I'm moderately hopeful you didn't fuck my face up."

"Relax, you're gorgeous. I got you."

"You did everyone?"

"Everyone," Clarke nodded, knowing Harper was talking about Octavia.

"Octavia?"

"Just because she's mad at me doesn't mean she doesn't deserve a portrait."

Harper smiled, "What flavor cupcakes for tonight?"

"That's what you're doing? Harper, you don't—"

"It's Bellamy's birthday, I have to."

"You really don't, he—he hates his birthday and will be happy that I'm distracting everyone from the occasion."

"Really?"

"Yes, really, remember when no one knew when his birthday was?"

"Until last year."

"Yeah, and you can probably blame me for that too. I didn't text him, he thought I didn't care but I—I was working and I couldn't text him and calling would have made me want to come back and I couldn't have that then. I didn't think I deserved him."

"And you do now?"

"I've been to hell and back, if I don't then something will separate us. I don't think it will though, we've waited so long already."

Harper nodded, "I'm thinking chocolate fudge with buttercream frosting."

"His two favorites, you're the best."

"Don't thank me, you're paying for them, I'm not that generous."

Clarke laughed, "I'm okay with that. I should get to the gallery, make sure everything's set up properly before tonight."

"So this is a private opening, right? No randoms from town?"

"Correct. Bye, Harp. Bye, Baby Green!"

"Bye, Hypogriff!" Harper called back and Clarke turned back to her. "I didn't… thought I was being clever, I'm not, I'm a baker."

"Birthday cake idea," Clarke laughed. "Later!"

"Seven o'clock," Harper nodded and Clarke left.

At the gallery, everything was perfect, she had them all in order, her older sketches of her friends, now paintings, with their added worries next to the new ones with their armor, their strength, and she knew they'd all love each piece. Harper was pregnant and looking absolutely badass. Octavia was practically the impenetrable Great Wall, that's all she's allowed Clarke to see so it wasn't fully accurate, but it's what Clarke could see and that's what the collection was all about. What she knew compared to what she came back to find.

"Bellamy's going to love it," Luna said coming up behind Clarke as she looked at the nearly identical Bellamy's. If anything, there's less armor on his new drawing and more insecurities and the one that screamed through every fiber of his being was her leaving him.

She would never leave him again, it was a promise she made herself and she never wanted to break it.

"I know," Clarke smiled softly, he's perfect.

"And yours?"

"The finale which is insanely conceded, but it's my show and I've changed immensely so I deserve it," she shrugged, thoroughly joking but it's Luna, she doesn't have a funny bone in her body.

"Yeah, sure, this is impressive though. You're good."

"Overwhelming praise," Clarke rolled her eyes. "Is there anything I should do before tonight?"

"Nope, it's all set, I have the caterers coming an hour before everyone gets here, it should all be set so go home, relax and get ready because this is going to be the night of your life," Luna said with fake enthusiasm and Clarke shook her head.

"Thanks, Luna, I really felt that you meant it that time."

Clarke washed her hair and was going to straighten it, knowing Bellamy's going to ruin it when he gets home because she finally made a move. she walked out of the bathroom in her robe, grabbing some pretzels from the kitchen when she saw him on the couch, jumping in surprise.

"Get out."

"That's not nice, Wanheda," he smiled and Clarke took a step back.

She didn't want to die like this, not when she finally told Bellamy how she felt—mostly. "Carl, please. Please don't do this."

"Why did you run? Did you think you could hide from me?"

"No, I—I knew you'd find me, I just hoped you'd forget."

Carl stood and Clarke searched the counter for something she could use to protect herself. How was this possible? How did he find her? Does the restraining order not work in Arkadia?

"I bet you're wondering how I found you and your little group of misfits. It's rather funny, actually," he smiled but it was more of a sneer and Clarke had the urge to run, but refrained, biding her time for something more opportune. "My boss thinks himself an art connoisseur and he wanted to know who this Clarke Griffin was that was a big deal in little Arkadia. You see when the boss wants to know about someone, he calls me and I go looking. How surprised was I to find out that Chloe "Wanheda" Glasston, a tease, was really Clarke Griffin, Princess of Arkadia? Very." Carl stalked towards her, trapping her in the kitchen. "That was the hard part, finding your address, finding out you're whoring yourself out, using this poor bastard because he fell in love with you back in college and using it against him. That's low even for the common whore that you are."

"You know nothing about me or Bellamy," Clarke cried, blinking back tears. She was scared for her life, gripping the edge of the counter for support, for something to hold her steady. WHY THE HELL DOESN'T BELLAMY HAVE ANY STEAK KNIVES? she thought pissed off at Bellamy while still extremely terrified of Carl Emerson.

"Bellamy Blake, high school history and Latin teacher, today is his twenty-seventh birthday. Little sister Octavia, she's nineteen, dating Lincoln Whittle who's twenty-eight and had been arrested for getting into a bar fight with Bellamy Blake but the charges were dropped within minutes of him arriving at the police station because it was Bellamy who initiated it, overprotective older brother."

"Leave them alone. This is between us, Carl?"

"What makes him so special, Wanheda?" he sneered and Clarke pulled back.

"He didn't try to rape and kill me."

"That's the look in your eyes, I couldn't figure it out. You think I'm going to kill you?" he laughed. "I'm not going to kill you, I want you to submit, submit your power to me."

"I don't want that."

"You will."

"Carl, you can't force people to do whatever you want them to do. They have their own minds, their own freewill. That's what it's like being human, having the ability to make your own choices and this choice, being in Bellamy's apartment without being invited, it's not a good choice for you to have made."

"He isn't here, he's at work and you're here, practically naked for me."

"No, Carl, not for you. I'm in my boyfriend's apartment getting ready for work, you're intruding."

"You have as much a right to be here than I do."

"I at least have a key, you broke in."

Carl trapped her against the counter and Clarke looked for something to protect herself again, finding nothing.

"You're going to regret this, you're not going to get anything from me, Carl."

Carl smirked, his fingers stroking the opening of her robe. "I've already seen plenty of you, but you mustn't be comfortable in this, it's stifling out."

He pulled on the tie that held the robe together and it fell open, revealing her to him and Clarke wasn't embarrassed, she just wished he was Bellamy and he wasn't attacking her. She tried picturing it, Bellamy standing before her instead of the murderous stalker that was Carl Emerson and it didn't work, nothing she could do could make him picture Bellamy here, touching her sensitive skin, making her feel amazing instead of trying to curl in on herself and pray the allure of her wore off.

She didn't fight him and maybe she should have but the moment his fingers touched her skin she froze and it was as though she was watching herself give in to Carl from across the room, an outer body experience. Watching him do whatever he wanted to her and she stood there taking it until he touched her breast and she pushed him away harder than she truly intended, covering herself back up.

Carl's glare was so lethal that Clarke knew he was going to retaliate tenfold. He pushed into her, grabbing the root of her hair and yanked her head back, gripping her breast and squeezing rougher than she's ever experienced, whining at the pain.

"There's my Wanheda."

"You don't even know what that means," she sneered back.

"Does it matter? You're a dancer, yet you're so ridged, isn't that counterproductive?"

"I'm not a dancer. I—I was hiding and that was the last place my friends and family would look for me."

"And they're so proud of their Princess for coming home, for staying out of trouble and not being the whore you're pretending not to be?"

"You're delusional," Clarke sneered, knowing that it was just fueling him. He wanted this, he wanted her to fight because the more she fights, the more pain he causes, he's a psychopath.

"Don't you want to prove to the poor bastard that you're not his?"

"I am and nothing you can do will ever change that."

"Really?" he asked, yanking her hair back and tossing her on the floor. "You like that? You like being treated like a toy being tossed around?"

"Maybe I'm just biding my time for the most opportune time to kill you."

Carl laughed, grabbing Clarke's wrists and pinned her down on the cold tile of the kitchen. He tied them together to the table leg and Clarke wired her eyes and jaw shut. She didn't want to know what he was doing, his fingers and mouth trailing over her body erratically.

She occasionally looked over at the door to the apartment to see if anyone would walk in to find the cluttered apartment and Clarke tied up by this stranger, his fingers getting more and more adventurous as the time passed. She tried kicking and kneeing him away but he got leverage in each move and her thighs were spread wide with his holding her down.

Clarke didn't want to cry, didn't want to waste her tears on this horrible man, but it were as if a damn burst inside of her and she couldn't control the tears streaming out of he, Carl duct taped her mouth to keep her volume down and the neighbors from questioning and Clarke bided her time, tried not thinking about what was physically happening and thinking about the opening, everyone's reactions, hopefully getting back in Octavia's good graces.

She didn't know how long she waited, how long Emerson was consumed by her when she saw the door of the apartment open silently over his shoulder. The look on Bellamy's face a moment later was heartbreaking and before Clarke or Emerson knew it, Bellamy had him pinned to the floor, pounding his face in with his fist.

His fist about to land another punch in the unconscious face of Emerson, Bellamy turned his gaze over to Clarke. She couldn't look away but she couldn't help the look of disappointment and fear that held his gaze. He loosened his fist and went over to Clarke, tearing the duct tape from her mouth. "I'm sorry," he uttered, going to her wrists next.

"Bell—Bellamy, call 9-1-1. I—"

"Okay," he nodded, getting the knot untied and Clarke's wrists slackened and she finally got to move freely. She sat up and covered herself back up in the robe, curling into a ball while Bellamy spoke to the dispatch person on the phone.

"He's unconscious, I had to fight him off her… No, I wouldn't… Okay. Thank you," he placed the phone on his knee and sighed.

"Bell?"

"They're on their way," he sighed collapsing into the cabinets next to her and Clarke curled into his side. He kissed the top of her head as her fingers twined together in his.

"I don't know how he found me at your apartment. I don't—"

"It doesn't matter how he found you, only that I got here before he…"

"I don't think that's what he wanted," she said before thinking it through. Emerson was greedy, but he also knew he couldn't have someone who didn't want him back. "He would have done it already, he wouldn't have taken his time. I think he wanted to ruin me for you, seeing me with someone else, willing or not, it changes a relationship for the worst."

Bellamy didn't say anything for a moment before stating, "I've seen you with other people before."

Clarke scoffed, "This is slightly different than making out with Finn Collins."

"I love you. This wasn't how I wanted to say it, but it doesn't make it any less true. I've loved you for so long that I can't even tell you when it began, I spent four years away from you and that didn't stop how I felt so I don't think this could."

"I—"

"You don't have to say it back, not right now, not after this. Not until you're ready, okay?"

Clarke nodded, bringing his hand twined to hers up to her lips. "I hate him. I had a whole evening planned to distract attention from your birthday, because I know you hate it and he had to come and ruin everything."

"I only care that you're here, everything else is just an added bonus."

"I have a gallery opening tonight."

"Wait, all your sketches?"

Clarke nodded, "I turned them into something."

"I'm so proud of you."

"Arkadia Police, we're coming in."

An hour later the police left with enough photos and long winded statements to lock up Carl Emerson for years. Breaking and entering, assault, at least five years in jail and Clarke could somewhat breathe after finding that out. Sure, she's going to have to testify in court, but he's still going to jail. Nobody likes abusers.

"What do you want to do?" Bellamy asked after Clarke showered to wash Carl Emerson off of her.

"I had sex and dinner planned before the gallery but that's off the table."

"Sex is," he agreed. "If you're not comfortable going out, I'm fine with staying in and watching Netflix with you."

Clarke rolled her eyes, "You want to go to the gallery, I know you."

"Of course I do. You're amazing and we hadn't told anyone what happened so they'd call concerned."

"Brave face. I can manage that for a few hours," she grimaced. "I need to shower before we go. How's your hand?"

Bellamy looked at his engorged knuckles, "Swollen but it'll heal. I'll ice it while you're in the shower."

Clarke nodded and headed down the hall to the bathroom she'd just come from. "Hey, Bell," she called, looking back at him from the doorway. "I'm sorry I didn't come back when you asked me too."

"Don't worry about that. We're here now and that's what matters. Go shower."

"Clarke! You're here! This is amazing! You're amazing!" Harper squealed, hugging Clarke tightly.

"Hey, Harper. Thank you," she smiled, though she felt like dying. It's Harper, she reminded herself trying to stay calm and not freak out, she still felt him on her.

"Harper, she just walked in, could you let her breathe?" Bellamy asked and Harper pulled away.

"Yeah, sorry, I love my pieces."

"This is… I don't get it," Octavia said to Lincoln a few yards away, looking at her portraits.

"It's a time piece. Who you were when I left versus who you are now," Clarke stated and Octavia turned to glare at her.

"So you see nothing when you look at me?"

"You don't let me see anything but anger, hence the armor. You're strong, no one can deny that, but strength and courage are vastly different qualities in a person."

"Pray tell," Octavia countered and Clarke sighed.

There was a poem she's had stuck in her head since coming back to town and it was partly because she was feeling cowardice but also because she was trying to exhume courage with everything that was happening with Emerson. She had it memorized, "It takes strength to be certain,
It takes courage to have doubts.

It takes strength to fit in,
It takes courage to stand out.

It takes strength to feel a friend's pain,
It takes courage to feel your own pain.

It takes strength to hide your own pains,
It takes courage to show them.

It takes strength to stand guard,
It takes courage to let down your guard.

It takes strength to conquer,
It takes courage to surrender.

It takes strength to endure abuses,
It takes courage to stop them.

It takes strength to stand alone,
It takes courage to lean on a friend.

It takes strength to love,
It takes courage to be loved.

It takes strength to survive,
It takes courage to live."

At some point in recalling the poem, Clarke began to cry. She realized that she wasn't being courageous at all, she was being strong. What she was criticizing her friend for was the exact thing she was doing herself. She's a hypocrite and telling everyone about what happened to her just hours before would be courageous, leaning on them as the poem says, but she didn't want anyone but Bellamy to know.

It takes courage to be loved. She loves him, has for as long as she could remember, but hearing him say it this afternoon, she pushed it aside. She didn't take it for the truth, his truth and somehow she didn't feel lighthearted when he said it like she thought she would. Hearing Bellamy tell her he loved her for the first time should have been the happiest moment of his life, but she had Emerson in her head and she felt nothing when he said it, making her feel worse.

She was looking into his eyes, big brown eyes filled with concern that broke her heart even further. "We shouldn't have come," he whispered.

Clarke shook her head as Bellamy wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "I'm fine. It's just a lot to take in."

"We can go. We can see everyone at a better time, once you—"

"No. I just want everything to be normal. This is normal."

"You've been coming here for three weeks, Clarke, and you haven't said anything. Do you plan to?"

Clarke sighed and looked over at her psychologist, she knew it was supposed to help get over the trauma, talking about the incident, but she's also not the person who deals with trauma well. Or therapy at all for that matter. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Dr. Marx was a too thin, graying man whom, with one punch, Clarke could incapacitate. He wasn't a threat to her physically, just to her boxed up psyche, manipulating every fragile and significant moment of her life. How was she supposed to trust anyone with any piece of her again? "We could start off with something easy, a getting to know you sort of thing if that's what you'd prefer."

"Ask your easy question," she grimaced. Easy questions are like stupid questions, they exist outside the classroom.

"How are you today?"

Clarke scoffed, easy question. "I'm fine."

"Bellamy said you barely get out of bed."

"Bellamy doesn't think I should be here either and yet here I am."

"You sound angry."

"I am, but not at Bellamy."

"At Carl Emerson?"

"I thought you said easy, he's not easy."

"Okay, what's easy?"

Clarke thought about every aspect of her life, how Harper's coffee was the best she's ever had, how the shop will be closed for another three days because of the birth of her son a few days ago, how art was always her escape but she can't for the life of her pick up a pencil or brush, how Bellamy has been the easiest relationship she's been able to maintain and it might have something to do with them loving each other that they forgive each other's wrongdoings but it might also be that they truly understand each other better than anyone else in their lives.

"Bellamy," she said answering the question.

"Bellamy is easy?"

"Talking about Bellamy, literally anything about him makes everything easier."

"So tell me about Bellamy, how'd you meet?"

"We hated each other. I think we saw our worst selves in each other back then but over time we realized that we make each other better. Seeing our worst selves made us want to be better and he succeeds and I'm…"

"You're—?"

"I've been through too much. I try learning from my mistakes but I just keep making more. I don't know what to do."

"What decisions do you regret?"

"Almost all of them. When I was in college I was an EMT, that bus accident four years ago where twenty people, I was there. I could have done more but I didn't."

"You couldn't have. I read the reports, there was nothing more you could have done."

"You went to med school? You understand the report?"

"I spent ten years working at Bellevue in New York before coming here. I understand the report and you did what you could, you triaged the scene and helped the seven people that you could. You saved seven people at the cost of twenty, the odds weren't good but it's what you could do in the situation. That's all anyone could ask of you."

What could Clarke say to that? It's what her mother said to her when Clarke got one of the victims to the hospital, it's what Bellamy and Monty told her when she said goodbye.

"So what happened after that? What makes you bring it up now?"

"I avoided everything after that, I moved to Polis instead of going to the funerals and dealing with the pity in all my friends' eyes because I was beating myself up over it. I killed people. Monty and I did. He stayed and dealt with it all but I couldn't. Maya died and I couldn't even apologize to Jasper, I felt horrible for being a part of it."

"You weren't, it was a car accident. You did what you could with the aftermath, that's all you can do."

"You can tell me that it's not my fault until you're blue in the face and I still won't feel that way."

"Okay. What happened in Polis?"

"I couldn't get a job except as an exotic dancer, so I did that. Everything was fine for three years and then Bellamy showed up for Monty's bachelor party. A fucking cliché. He knew it was me right away, he saw through the wig and make up and saw me. He asked me to go back with him but I didn't. I should have, this wouldn't have happened if I had."

"You can't blame yourself for someone else's decisions, Clarke. Carl Emerson decided to obsess over you, you can't blame yourself for his decision."

"If I wasn't a stripper, he wouldn't have done any of this."

"You could have been a barista and this could have happened. You can't keep blaming yourself for things that are out of your control."

"I can't promise that."

"You can work on it though. So what happened? What pushed you to come back to Arkadia?"

"He strangled me outside my apartment. Followed me home. He knew where I lived, he wouldn't leave me alone after that so after he strangled me, I ran. I came back because I didn't know what he could do and if he did find me, I'd have Bellamy with me. I laid low for a couple months but I had a gallery opening three weeks ago and I guess Luna put it on the internet and his boss asked him to find out who I was because he's an art collector and loves finding the next big thing before it becomes a big thing so he found me."

Dr. Marc nodded, "Have you said his name since it happened?"

"What?"

"Have you said his name? Have you said Carl Emerson since he attacked you?"

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"What would you prefer?"

"Assault? He sexually assaulted me. He broke into Bellamy's apartment while we were out and waited for me. He could have been there for hours, looking into our lives, Bellamy's life. Bellamy didn't deserve that invasion!"

"Do you feel like you did?" Dr. Marx pressed. It's his job and it doesn't make Clarke want to punch him lessen.

"No one deserves their privacy to be taken from them."

"But you didn't say that. You said that Bellamy didn't deserve it."

"I don't want to talk about this."

Dr. Marc sat back, "Okay, our time is up anyway. I'll see you next week?"

Clarke nodded and sighed, standing up and leaving. She found Raven in the hall and grimaced.

"How'd it go?"

"Fine."

"Did you talk this time?"

"Yep."

"That's good," she smiled and Clarke walked ahead of her, needing to get out of the building. "Do you need to do anything this afternoon?"

"Is Bellamy at school still?" Damn summer school.

"For another hour."

Clarke pushed the front door of the building open and breathed in the fresh air, instantly calming her. "Why aren't you at work?" she asked Raven after a minute of finding Raven's car, she doesn't even need to ask why she's there, Bellamy's had people picking her up at the end of the fifty minute sessions since they've started.

"I have the afternoon off."

"You don't take time off. You're Raven Reyes, you work through everything."

"But Clarke Griffin needs her friend right now."

"I really don't."

"I know that you hate when Bellamy and I talk about you, or when anyone talks about you, but he says you're distant and this is different than when you first came back. A depression of sorts."

"Why does he talk about me with you?"

"Because were friends and you're a big part of his life."

"Because he loves me?"

"Because he already lost you and I'm afraid of what would happen if you left him again."

"He makes it all worth it."

"Tell him that, not me," Raven said unlocking the car. "Look, Clarke, there's nothing Bellamy wouldn't do for you, but it has to be the same for him with you. You can't just leave because you feel like it, you have to talk to him."

"I know. I'm not going anywhere."

They both got in the car and Raven started it up. "Good. Did he talk to you about Labor Day weekend?"

"No."

Raven pulled the car out of the parking spot and turned onto the street towards Bellamy's apartment. "Well, the week before we rent a house in Virginia Beach. It started out for Jasper, to try and cheer him up but he just used it as an excuse to drown his liver in alcohol. Then we were all losing touch with work and it's our quarterly catch up."

"That sounds fun."

"It is and you're coming. I will drag you there if I have to."

Clarke smirked, "I know, I'm not arguing with you. I'll go, I just don't know how much fun I'll be."

"When were you were fun?"

"Haha," Clarke said sarcastically.