Bellamy

The first time they stopped to rest, Bellamy sat down on a log and took a long pull from one of the canteens, then offered it to his sister. He watched her drink the water thirstily, and he couldn't help but drop his eyes to her stomach, trying to see evidence of the huge revelation she'd just given him. But through her layers of clothing, she looked normal. He was relieved- somehow he knew that he would have felt guilty if he'd overlooked something so huge just because he was wrapped up in his own problems.

He really couldn't believe he was going to be an uncle. He kept thinking of his mother, how he'd watched her grow big and round, and that he'd somehow known- even at six years old- what a huge change was coming. Even though Octavia wasn't risking her life like Aurora had, this would still be an incredible upheaval in their lives- in her life. He worried about whether she was ready for this, but he knew no one ever could be. Even his own mother, who'd already had one child, still struggled at times raising Octavia.

In that little room of Octavia's childhood, nothing was ever hidden. Nothing was private. Therefore, he knew the loving smiles his mother had shone down on Octavia, the way she'd kissed each perfect toe, the way she'd brought her ruffle of soft baby hair to her nose and breathed it in, the way she'd watch her sleep- like she was a miracle. But he'd also seen the times she'd wept, terrified and desperate, trying to soothe Octavia when she wouldn't be soothed, the times it was difficult to calm her or quiet her, the times her innocent cries threatened to give them all away. More than once Octavia had been thrust into his arms, his mother leaving their quarters, and it had been left up to Bellamy to be the one to keep her safe, to keep them all safe.

Once, he had woken late in the night and watched his mother approach the sleeping baby and place a pillow over her face. The action had been so confusing, so terrifying, that for a long moment he had just frozen- unable to intervene, unable to save Octavia. But then, just as quickly as it happened, Aurora had thrown the pillow aside and pulled her daughter up into her arms, cuddling her, whispering apologies, crying.

Bellamy had lain awake that whole night in case she'd tried it again, and then the next. After that, he woke at the slightest sound. After that, he rushed to soothe his baby sister's cries, to relieve his mother whenever she appeared stressed or overwhelmed. He was as much a parent as he was a brother; as much her guardian as he was her friend. Boundaries were not a thing he'd understood much of, growing up- at least not in their quarters. The only boundaries that existed were those between their family and the rest of the Ark, and those walls were huge and tall. But inside the cocoon of Octavia's childhood, they were bonded by loyalty, love, and fear.

He had seen a lot of things in that little room on Factory Station- many that he didn't like to think about. It wasn't that it had been an unhappy place… he had so many memories of joy there, of love and warmth. But the bad memories- the fear and shame, the stifling and oppressive needs that filled his every waking moment- those were hard to shake. The essence of who he was, of what he stood for, boiled down so easily to an all-encompassing theme of his existence, forged by two promises that had guided him his entire life, so simple:

My sister, my responsibility.

I'll never let anything bad happen to you, Octavia. I promise.

Bellamy let out a long, heavy breath and pushed those thoughts away as Octavia smiled at him and held the canteen out once more. He knew she didn't need him like she had as a child, or even like she had when they were first on Earth. She had learned much, grown tougher, and he was glad of it. He hoped her child inherited even half of her fire, her determination, her strength. But even if it did, he knew it wouldn't matter- he would still worry about that kid for the rest of his life, just like he would worry about his own if he ever had them. He didn't know how to turn it off anymore than he knew how to turn off his need for food or water.

But all of that was the past, and he knew at least that Octavia would not be like their mother. Her baby would not represent all that could go wrong. If it cried, no one would die for it. And she would love it- yes, he had no uncertainty about that. And so would he… it was barely even a concept to him yet, but he knew with every fiber of his being that he would love this child like his own. Just as he had with Octavia. He didn't know how he would ever let them out of his sight.

"What are you thinking about?" Octavia asked him gently, no doubt his expression gave away the fact that he was reminiscing deeply.

He gave her a wry smile. "Just thinking about how annoying you were when you were a baby."

Octavia cracked a smile, gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. "Ha! I don't think so. I bet I was perfect."

Had he done that? Made her so self-assured that she had grown into this tenacious woman, so proud and confident? He hoped so. He couldn't quite imagine that it had been their mother.

Flashing her a grin, he shrugged. "Yeah. You were."

At that, Octavia rolled her eyes. Then she grew quiet and her gaze dropped to her hands. He read her easily, knew he should steel himself for something he didn't want to hear, but it still caught him off-guard when she asked quietly, "Can we talk about my father now? This baby is making me think about him even more."

.

Bellamy was eight.

Clutched in his arms, curled into his lap, his tiny and helpless little sister with her too-wise eyes, chubby toddler hands clutched around his arm, cheek laid against his heart, listening, tears rolling down her cheeks, silent and still.

The narrow little bathroom was their only refuge from what was happening in their quarters right now. Huddled in the shower, clutching her close, his mother had urged him there as soon as she got home. "Quick!" Their mother had cried, placing the baby in Bellamy's arms as someone started pounding on the door.

Bursting in, all red-faced with fury, fists clenched, his eyes had locked onto the two of them as Bellamy stood there frozen. It had been so long since he'd seen him, what felt like a lifetime, and eventually the man that used to alternatively dote on, and then rage at his mother had faded into memory.

For a long moment, no one had moved. Octavia's eyes were huge, stricken, terrified, her first encounter with a living, breathing face that did not belong to her mother or brother, that was unknown. The moment he'd reached for Octavia with his big angry hands, Aurora had sprung into action, shoving him into that little bathroom, urging him, "Stay in there!"

Bellamy had slammed the bathroom door, climbed into the shower and slammed that door too, seizing his sister as close as possible.

"That's my daughter! I can see plain as day she is- she's got my damn eyes, Aurora! How could you keep this from me?!" He was not so loud that he would draw suspicion from their neighbours, conscientious of Octavia's secret existence, but his angry hiss was loud enough to get through the door to the bathroom- every word a menace.

"Bell," Octavia whispered. "Scary monster." She turned her face into his and shook her head side to side. "No… go away."

Bellamy slid his hand over her ear, held the other tightly to his chest, whispered, "Shshsh." Told her, "You're having a bad dream. It's okay- I'm here." Sang softly to drown out the sounds as their mother screamed and dodged with Octavia's father around the room like some kind of frenzied dance. He didn't need to witness it to know exactly what was happening- he had seen it all before.

.

Bellamy shook his head. No, this wasn't the right time. He still hadn't figured out how he was going to talk to her about this, what he'd tell her- would he leave things out, or give her the whole truth? He knew what she deserved and what he wanted to give, and the two were at odds in his heart.

"Can we wait until we get to Mount Weather?" he asked her. He knew it wasn't fair but, trying to deflect, he added, "I'm just too preoccupied with the fact that we have to go back in there. And Clarke… she's going to need support."

She let out a long breath, and he saw the anger flash through her eyes. "He's mine, you know," she said. "Not yours."

Bellamy pulled in a breath, trying not to get annoyed, but he couldn't stop it. "I knew him, you didn't. So I get to decide when we talk about it." For good measure he added, "End of discussion."

Octavia curled her lip up in anger and her fists clenched. "Fine," she snapped, pulling to her feet and stalking away. He watched her go, closing his eyes briefly. He could have handled that better, but he could deal with her anger, and he knew she wouldn't go far.

"How's she doing?" Clarke asked softly, suddenly appearing at his elbow. He patted the log next to him and she sat, watching Octavia kick through the foliage away from him. "Is it the baby?"

"No, it's me," Bellamy answered. "It's fine… well, it'll be fine."

"How is she doing with it?"

"Did you really only just find out about the baby today?" he asked her, needing to know if she'd said that for Octavia's sake- needing to know if she'd been keeping it from him.

Clarke nodded. "Yeah. I guess with everything that's been going on, it's not something I noticed. She didn't even know." She seemed a bit hurt, like she thought he was angry at her.

Bellamy reached out for her hand then hesitated, glancing around at their friends. Monroe and Miller were sitting close by, and they quickly looked away from Bellamy when he looked at them.

"What's that about?" Clarke asked him softly. She sounded even more hurt now.

"Nothing," he assured her- but the truth was, he wasn't sure. Loving her on the road, kissing her, holding her hand, that had been easy. And when they broke away from the group so she could give him Red, it felt like a little bubble of separateness, their own little world. The fact that the pleasure and relief of the drug had always come from her hand had been a nice bonus, but now it was backfiring on him. Now, even a simple thing like holding her hand elicited thoughts of the drug, of how good it felt coursing through his veins, reminding him of how much he wanted it.

Clarke seemed to be struggling for words. Finally she said, "Do you not… want this anymore?"

Bellamy cringed, and then he did take her hand, squeezing it briefly before letting it go again. He wanted the Red so badly, it took every ounce of strength he had not to think about it at the best of times… if he was reminded of it, he could barely function.

"When I calm down," he told her gently.

At least some small amount of realisation seemed to dawn on her and she nodded her head, but she still seemed upset. "How are the cravings?"

Bellamy glanced around again, afraid that someone would overhear, but no one was listening and they were keeping their voices low. He let out a breath, shook his head. "Horrible. Even when I think about something else- Octavia, you… I always come back to the drug."

Tenderly she said, "We broke your body's immediate dependency, but that doesn't mean you won't still crave it. Maybe forever."

He shifted uncomfortably, really hating that idea- not wanting to have compulsive thoughts about that horrible substance, not wanting to go even one step down that path again. "It feels like an obsession," he whispered, ashamed.

This time Clarke took both his hands in hers and squeezed. "I'm here for you," she told him. "And so is Octavia. And the baby coming- that's something to look forward to, isn't it?" She hesitated, as though she hadn't quite figured out whether he'd be happy about that or not.

He nodded. "Yeah." His smile was soft, warm. "That baby is definitely something to look forward to."

She squeezed his hands again. "Well, good. So focus on that. I know it's hard… but we're here for you. Don't pull away from us, and we can help you."

Bellamy met her eyes and he saw the warmth there, the calm, and how much she cared. They'd been through so much- maybe this could be just one more thing. He focused on the softness of her skin, the firm pressure of her hands against him, and for a blissful few moments he was thinking only of her, not of the drug those hands had delivered to him over and over. The way she'd slid the injector so gently, almost lovingly, into his neck, the way she'd been so careful with the dose, how her fingers had rested gently over his pulse, keeping him alive with her touch, regulating him as she gave him what he wanted… needed.

Bellamy let go abruptly, clenching his jaw, his train of thought having gone somewhere without his permission. He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," she assured him. He looked at her again and saw that some part of her comprehended what was happening. He was relieved by that, but disappointed at the same time- relieved that she could understand why it was difficult for him to allow even the briefest, simplest amount of intimacy when he was still so raw, but also disappointed that she might see him differently now.

He tried to remind himself that she had seen him at his worst, again and again, and she had never turned her back on him. He had no reason not to trust her now.

Even beyond the added complication of the drug, this whole idea of a relationship still felt so strange- good, but strange. Those walls his mother had built around their family, the distrust she promoted of anyone who fell outside them… it was hard to break. In some ways, Clarke had long since overcome that boundary, had earned his trust- not to mention his respect and loyalty- long ago, but now that their relationship had shifted towards romance, he found himself floundering. He had never had more than impassioned, stolen moments with the few girls on the Ark he'd been involved with at all, and that involvement had been superficial at best. It wasn't that he wouldn't have wanted a girlfriend or even love, but his life just didn't allow for it. Even once he was on the ground, the girls who'd caught his eye were temporary distractions from his guilt at killing Jaha and his frustration that nothing was going his way.

Clarke was none of that. Clarke was someone he wouldn't dare use, someone he respected more than anyone else on Earth, and someone he wanted to have something meaningful with. He was scared to screw it up- but, because of that fear, he was pretty sure he was screwing it up.

Drawing in a breath, he stood up and nodded his head towards the trees. "I can't talk like this," he told her, not just meaning the subject matter, but their friends all around them, the suddenly close quarters.

Bellamy made sure to choose the direction opposite to where Octavia had stormed off, and Clarke followed him away from the rest of their group, past the treeline and into the forest. Somehow, with the trees close around them, he could breathe a lot easier than in the openness of the clearing.

He looked at her and watched her trying to figure him out, the way she slightly parted her lips, the almost imperceptible tilt to her head, and the tiny lines that furrowed her brow just a little. He couldn't help but smile at her, or maybe it was at himself, for the shift that had occurred in how he looked at her.

Now that they were alone, he didn't really know what to say, didn't really want to talk at all. He raised a hand and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, watching as that simple touch smoothed her entire face, erasing the concern from her brow. She smiled up at him and gingerly raised a hand into his hair, caressing the base of his neck with her thumb. Bellamy smiled back at her and then he leaned in, closing his eyes, kissing her gently at first, uncertainly, but her lips were a much better distraction than her hands, so he soon relaxed, not thinking of the Red at all, just focusing on her lips.

Clarke kissed him back, one of her hands still in his hair, another curling around him as he shifted her closer, wrapping his arms around her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently coaxing her lips apart. He felt her melt into his arms, and gently he shifted her back against a nearby tree, cradling the back of her head in his hand so the bark wouldn't hurt her, his fingers splayed into her golden hair.

Finally they had to stop, knowing that the group would want to get moving again soon. Bellamy pulled back from her lips and laid his forehead against hers, smiling gently at her as he stroked her hair. Clarke returned the smile, her hands clasped around his shoulders. Neither of them were in a hurry to let go of each other, but eventually they had to. Clarke's expression was tender and content, and Bellamy knew he must have looked very similar.

When they rejoined their friends, Harper and Monty exchanged the tiniest of smiles, but no one else seemed to notice them returning or think anything of it. Octavia was also back, and she glanced up, giving Bellamy a smile that said the two of them were good. Bellamy smiled back to her, knowing it was true- their fights never lasted.

The guards soon gave the order to move out and Bellamy felt his humour fade instantly, immediately replaced with dread. The next time they stopped, they would be at Mount Weather. One look to Clarke told him she had just as much trepidation about it- probably more. Whereas he could comfort himself with the fact that he'd pulled that lever for Octavia, Clarke had done it for her people. It was no less noble, but while his sister's presence in his life was a constant reminder that he'd done the right thing, Clarke hadn't been able to live with the reminders of her own role- the faces of her friends and family.

No longer caring who saw or what anyone read into it, just seeing that tense expression settling down over her face again as they started walking, he reached out and took her hand. When she looked at him, he nodded to her and said, "Together. We do this together."

Clarke seemed reassured, relieved. Squeezing his hand, she nodded her head and agreed, "Together."