Bellamy
The second they had walked into Polis, Lia had known exactly where to go and who to see. It was clear that this had all been pre-arranged, though Bellamy wasn't sure if Lexa's presence had been part of the original plan or not. They were immediately assigned a guard, one which Bellamy could only assume was supplied by the infamous queen.
They were taken into a building, given a spacious suite of rooms- several big, luxurious bedrooms opening into a common lounge area with comfortable couches and a feast laid out on the table.
"Lexa and I have business with the queen," Lia told them, and before anyone could ask any questions, she left with the guard, who pulled Lexa along by her arm. Bellamy couldn't help but be unsettled by the desperate look Lexa had given him right before she was whisked from the room.
It was only when a couple of hours had passed and they had finished eating that they found the main door to the room was locked. There were windows, but they were made up of slim panels of glass no wider than a few fingers, and not suitable to climb out of.
"Prisoners again," Octavia spat, pacing the floor.
Bellamy would have tried to calm her, but he was alarmed himself.
"What's going on?" he asked Echo, who seemed just as worried as he felt.
She shook her head. "I do not know."
But they didn't have to wait long; Lia was gone a couple of hours before she returned, nodding to Bellamy. "Clarke will see you now."
He felt his heart soar; he couldn't believe it- just like that? Jumping to his feet, he grinned at the others and said, "Come on."
"No," Lia spoke up. "Only you. She will see you alone or not at all."
As quickly as the excitement had risen in his chest, he felt it collapse into his stomach. He looked at Octavia, whose angry gaze was fixed wholly on Lia.
"She's one of Clarke's people too," he tried, arguing with Lia without arguing.
"She will be perfectly safe here," Lia answered evenly. "You have my word."
Bellamy was absolutely torn. He hated- hated- the idea of leaving Octavia behind, didn't want to let her out of his sight for a second, but Lia was the only person who could bring him to Clarke.
"It's okay, Bell," Octavia said, her jaw tight. "I'll be fine." He turned to her and looked at her helplessly, wishing he could come up with another option.
"So help me God, if you're not in this room when I come back…" He trailed off, letting that comment hang in the air, as he pulled her to his chest. He felt her arms wrap around him, her hand anchoring in his hair, and over her shoulder his eyes slid desperately to Echo.
"Don't worry," she said grimly. "We will look after each other."
Gratefully, he nodded. Octavia was a good with a sword, but there was no sword in this room. He pulled back from his sister and said, "I'll be right back."
He could see she didn't like it, but she nodded her head. "It's okay, Bell," she said again. "Just go get Clarke. You have to."
Angrily, helplessly, he turned and followed Lia out of that room. "Your word," he reminded her as they walked. "You gave me your word. Is that worth anything?"
"As much as yours," she answered tactfully.
He wasn't sure how to take that so he just said, "Okay… good."
He was led out into the streets, and he looked back to make sure he could memorise the place where Octavia was, just in case he would need that information later. He followed Lia down the street, and she led him around several corners before bringing him inside a small but immaculate building. She led him up some stairs and down a long corridor, and up ahead he could see a door, flanked by two burly men with severe expressions. But they did not seemed troubled by his and Lia's approach.
"Clarke is inside," she told him as they stopped. "She does not know you are here."
"Is she alone?" he asked.
Lia nodded her head. "She is. I will leave now, and be back for you later. Do not run, Bellamy," she warned. "These guards will kill you if you do."
He wouldn't run, not from Clarke, not when Octavia was locked in a room across town. "Don't worry," he said to her, and she nodded her head before turning and walking away.
Bellamy ignored the two guards as he drew in a few deep breaths, preparing himself for whatever might be inside this room. Finally, when he felt brave enough, he raised his hand, seized the doorknob, and turned.
Inside, the room was lit softly with candles, despite the fact that electric lights were suspended from the ceiling and showed signs of being maintained. It seemed that Clarke preferred the firelight, and he couldn't help but smile at the knowledge that she had likely become as uncomfortable as he was with electricity- perhaps more so.
Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him. He expected her to appear, to greet him or at least question this stranger in her room, but there was no sign of her. He felt a stab of fear, wondering if it was, indeed, a trap as Lexa had warned him, but he didn't care. He was on this path now- whether it led to Clarke or to death, he had no choice but to see it through.
The chamber was large and opulent, the furnishings lavish. Only when he stepped past the threshold could he really see anything properly, and he crept forward slowly, keeping his footsteps quiet, holding his breath.
All at once he heard something breaking through the silence of the room- what sounded like crying, little gasps and half-swallowed sobs. Even after all these weeks, he knew Clarke's voice instantly.
Suddenly, he couldn't get to her fast enough. He rushed forward and at first he couldn't see her, but then he caught sight of a blonde head just visible between the two beds, capped in an elaborate mass of braids.
He rounded the corner of the first bed and he took in the image of her all at once- those braids, her eyes lined in black and blue, smudged a little from her tears, and her elaborate clothes- leather and cotton decorated with strands of coloured thread. But there was no mistaking her. Even under all of that makeup and the strange clothes and the new hairstyle, it was still Clarke.
Despite trying not to make noise, she was crying heavily enough that she didn't hear him approach, and only when he knelt down in front of her did she register his presence. Her eyes widened in obvious shock as she saw him there, and such a jolt of surprise ran through her that her tears stopped abruptly.
For a long moment, neither of them moved or said anything- they just stared at each other, as if neither knew where to begin or who to be, what to say after all these weeks apart, each one more scared than the other.
It was Clarke who moved first, which was appropriate since she had been the one who'd walked away. Now she launched herself into his arms with such abandon that it was as though she was trying to erase all those months of separation with one embrace.
Bellamy caught her and held her tightly, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled her into his chest. A moment longer and he was redoubling his efforts, tightening his arms, trying to pull her even more into the hug, as though he could never get her close enough to make up for all the time they'd spent apart.
Neither of them was in a hurry to let go, and so they didn't- for a very long time they just sat there, locked together, listening to each other's breathing. It was only when Bellamy wanted to look at her face that he pulled back from her at all, and even then he kept hold of her body, only separating them enough so he could look her in the eyes. She was no longer crying, she was smiling big, and he knew he too was wearing a grin that rivaled her own.
They just stared at each other, Clarke's fingers tight around his arms, his hands pressed firmly against her back, for what seemed like forever.
Finally, Clarke was the first to speak when she said, "I have so much to tell you."
He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Me too," he said. "We have a lot to talk about… but can we do it later?" He tightened his arms around her again and she didn't protest, she just turned her head sideways into his chest and let him rest his chin on top of her hair. He felt her breathing, warm and soft on the side of his neck.
"Why were you crying?" he asked finally, not moving.
"I thought you wanted to talk about it later," she spoke softly, her breath tickling his skin, and he could feel the smile in her voice.
He chuckled softly. "I guess I can't resist." He'd never had a whole conversation before while hugging someone, but every time he thought about letting her go, his body wouldn't cooperate, so he just kept holding onto her.
Again, it was Clarke who moved first, and she pulled back from him a little, again only far enough to look at his face. Her eyes moved slowly from side to side as she searched his gaze. "You look the same," she said finally, and she sounded glad of it.
"Wish I could say the same," he answered gently. He saw a flash of something- he wasn't sure what- pass through her gaze and he felt a sense of loss, remembering the days when he could read those eyes like a book.
"How are you here?" she asked him next. She didn't seem in any more of a hurry than he was to let go of him, so he kept his arms around her.
"It's a long story," he said. "How are you here?"
Her smile was brief as she repeated his words, "It's a long story."
"Well we're getting nowhere fast," he joked, but neither of them really seemed to mind. In the end it was their legs that protested their continued embrace, both of them stiffening up from being down on their knees on the wooden floor for so long. Bellamy stood first, offering her a hand, which she took. They sat down on the edge of one of the beds, staying close, his left leg touching her right from knee to hip, her right hand on his left arm and his right hand covering it.
"I don't know where to start," Clarke admitted. He watched her carefully, saw the way the firelight gentled the curve of her jaw and flickered in her haunted eyes.
He tried to imagine what she had been doing for the last few months- where she'd gone, what she'd seen, who she'd become. He had expected to find her locked up, or worse, and yet here she was, surrounded by opulence and dressed head to toe as a Grounder. He frowned for the first time since he'd seen her, as his joy at seeing her again, at seeing her safe, gave way to curiosity, and then to something else.
Bellamy stood up abruptly and walked to the window, looking out over the city, the bustling streets full of people. He stood there so long that he felt the mood shift in the room, felt the hesitation grow in Clarke's breath as the tension seeped back into his body.
"You're angry?" she asked, finally.
He let out a long breath, shaking his head as he turned back to face her. Angry was such a simple word for such complexity of feeling. Hesitantly, he raised his eyes and met her gaze. "You left us," he said, quietly.
He watched her grow as tense as he felt and for a long time she said nothing, she just stared at the floor. Finally, softly, she said, "I know."
He squeezed his eyes shut, and he spread his arms backward, pressing his hands against the windowsill so he'd have something to grip. He watched Clarke's eyes trail to his hands, watched her reaction as he squeezed until his fingers turned white.
"Bellamy-"
"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. "No, Clarke." He didn't know if this was really a fight or not, because both their voices were so quiet.
She stood up from the bed, slowly, but she didn't approach him. Her face had such an expression of guilt and agony that he wanted to take every word back, but he couldn't. All he could do was keep going as he said, "The people you swore to lead… to protect… the people who relied on you? You just left them."
"I knew they'd be safe with you," she protested. "I knew you'd take care of them- that they'd be okay."
Any softness left in him disappeared as he felt his temper flare and he shoved himself off the windowsill, pacing away from her and then whirling back. "But what about me?" he demanded. "Did you think I'd be okay without you? Without us?" He drew in a deep breath, shook his head. "When you left I had to carry everything alone."
"I had no choice, Bellamy," she said, and it sounded like a plea.
"No, Clarke, I had no choice!" he snapped. It was like there were two parts of him- the one that was angry and the one that was relieved to have her back- and, like it had for much of his life, right now the angry part was winning.
Clarke was shaking her head, her eyes on the floor, and he saw a single tear make its way down her cheek and pool in the curve of her upper lip. He felt a pang of guilt, to know that he had made her cry. She whispered, "I'm sorry."
Again, his eyes closed against the grief on her face as he said, "You can be sorry all you want… it's still done, and I still don't forgive you for it."
He heard her move and suddenly he felt her hand on his arm; he opened his eyes, hating the expression of utter turmoil on her face. "So that's it?" she asked softly, her warm fingertips resting on his forearm.
"I don't know," he admitted, holding her eyes. He wanted to pull her close again, but the pain was stronger even than that strong desire. "I don't know," he said again. "Maybe."
"Bellamy-"
"I don't know, Clarke, okay?!" he snapped. She was too close. He pulled his arm back and walked away from her before turning back around. She didn't follow him, she just stood there, hand still raised, staring at the floor. It broke his heart.
He watched her take a deep breath, watched her draw strength from some hidden well inside of herself, one he'd seen her tap again and again, marveling at how it never seemed to run dry. When she turned to him, he could see the desperation in her eyes as she said, "Well, let's figure it out, then. Together- like always. Can't we do that?"
He swallowed, shook his head. "I don't know," he said softly, his voice gruff. "It's not 'like always' anymore, Clarke. It hasn't been 'like always' for the last few months." He met her eyes and whispered, "You've been gone longer than I ever knew you."
Bellamy could see the panic on her face and he hated that he was causing it. But, even more, he hated that everything he was saying was true. Urgently she said, "Then let's go back to how it was before. Don't you want that? I do. Please, Bellamy… let's go back to who we were. Who we really are." Again she reached for him, and again he felt the warmth of her fingers resting on his arm. "Neither of us want to be alone anymore, and we don't have to be."
He hesitated, looked at her, into her eyes, that beautiful cornflower blue gaze that had calmed him a thousand times, instilled trust and loyalty, got him through heartache and fear. He wanted to fall into that gaze, but he was still holding himself back. Gritting his teeth, he whispered, "How can I ever trust you again?"
He watched the pain lance through her face, and again his heart ached to know he was hurting her. He watched her gather up that strength once more before she spoke. "I don't know," she said, her voice soft. "I guess I'll just have to prove that you can. But I didn't walk away from you, Bellamy. I walked away from what happened. I just… I couldn't go through that gate knowing what I did."
He jerked away from her, his finger jabbing into the soft spot just below her collarbone as he shouted, "What we did!"
Clarke closed her eyes briefly, nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "What we did."
Bellamy's eyes were on the floor now, as he slowly shook his head, the fight going out of him. He turned his gaze back to Clarke, looking at her and feeling grief creeping in to replace his anger- grief for this fight, for how far they'd come only to fall so low, and grief because he was afraid that it couldn't be rebuilt.
"When you asked me to stay, I stayed," he said. "But when I asked, you just walked away. You shouldn't have left, Clarke. You shouldn't have made me do all this alone."
She nodded her head, and again he watched as a single tear- a tear of his making- slipped down the curve of her cheek. Without thinking about it he raised his hand and brushed it away with his thumb. Clarke looked up at him, meeting his eyes again, and he didn't move, he just looked back at her, searching her face for something he could forgive.
He found it in her eyes, that determined blue gaze that had first given him pause, first made him think that maybe this Princess was more than he'd given her credit for. With that, his whole body softened. And then, finally, with all his defenses shattered and all his burdens voiced, he pulled the most vulnerable shard of truth from his heart. Tenderly, he gave it over to her as he said, very softly, "I always thought you were the stronger one."
There was a short silence, and then the tiniest smile, sad and hopeful all at once, spread across Clarke's lips. Once more, she touched his arm, and this time he didn't pull away. Instead, he laid his hand on top of hers, squeezing her fingers lightly. Her eyes met his, and he could see the tears shining there as she held his gaze. Gently, quietly, she replied, "I guess I surprised both of us."