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A light breeze is swirling around them but it’s still warm, unseasonably for September, which is why they’re outside toasting to Bellamy.
“To Blake. On his last night of freedom!” Miller grins, raising his beer.
“Please, he has not been a free man since the medic came into our tent on the first night in the Middle East.” Roan snorts.
“Since before that, I’d wager,” Miller smirks.
“Wait, what? What don’t we know?” Lincoln asks, looking at Bellamy with a wry grin.
“Are we toasting me or not?” Bellamy chuckles.
“Uh not, what don’t we know!”
They’re sitting in the yard at Miller’s it’s only a couple of hours away from where Clarke and Bellamy are getting married tomorrow, and unlike Bellamy’s functional one-bed down the road has outside space.
“We’ve made it this far without anyone knowing.” Bellamy groans, but it’s light-hearted.
“The weekend before we deployed we met Clarke in a bar in New York. He told her he was a travel writer and she told us she was an art teacher from Vermont.” Miller supplies with a laugh.
“Imagine my surprise when she’s on the fucking transport plane,” Bellamy smirks.
“What the fuck?” Roan laughs, “player!”
“I cannot believe we had to suffer through months of will they won’t they and you already had!” Lincoln huffs.
They all laugh.
“You two always seemed inevitable, but now I know why. You already knew what you were getting.” Roan leers.
“Watch it.” Bellamy scowls, kicking him lightly, “That’s the future Mrs Blake you’re talking about.”
“She’s definitely staying a Griffin.” Lincoln muses.
Bellamy shrugs, “Don’t know, don’t care. It doesn’t matter. She’ll be my wife and in all the ways that matter she’ll matter.”
“Dude, I hate to break it to you but you’re so fucking gone for her anyway, she already matters in all the ways that matter.” Roan grins.
“Yeah, I know. Fuck, I love her.” Bellamy smiles shyly.
“Good job you’re marrying her then.” Miller deadpans, earning himself a glare from Bellamy and a snort of laughter from Lincoln.
“Now can I toast?” Roan laughs, “To marrying your random hook-up!”
“This is why I’m giving the speech tomorrow.” Miller grins.
“To gaining a Griffin, not losing Blake!” Lincoln suggests.
“I like that, might steal it!” Miller laughs.
“To the medic.” Roan tries.
“Yeah, to the medic!” They all chorus, grinning at each other.
*
Bellamy is frantic. He keeps looking over at this girl, his sister but has no idea how to help. She’s out of it, he can see that much and looks like she hasn’t eaten properly in months, but she needs help.
Sure, there’s still the chance she might be lying to him but he doesn’t think she is. He can see his mom in her. Plus she had the papers, photographs.
“Yes, hello. I need an emergency inpatient appointment.” He says when someone finally answers the phone. “Yes I know it’s Saturday. No... no, please don’t transfer me!”
“Fuck!” He slams his hand down on the countertop – the noise doesn’t even stir the girl.
“Mate are you ready?” Miller says lightly letting himself into Bellamy’s place.
He pauses at the scene. The lank-haired girl passed out on the couch, Bellamy standing by the table half-dressed in his formal uniform, tapping at a laptop, phone clamped to his ear.
“What the fuck?” Miller exclaims softly, “what’s going on?”
“That’s my sister apparently,” Bellamy says with a weak laugh, “she turned up an hour ago.”
“I...” Miller mumbles weakly.
“I’m trying to get hold of some kind of treatment centre but it’s Saturday, so it’s fuck... it’s not going well.” Bellamy explains wearily.
“What can I do? What did Clarke say?”
Bellamy blanches.
“She didn’t. I haven’t spoken to her. I can’t.”
“You’re meant to be getting married,” Miller says blankly, “in an hour.”
“I know.” He croaks in reply, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Miller doesn’t get chance to respond before Bellamy is speaking into the phone again.
“Yes, hi. My name is Sergeant Blake with the US army.” Bellamy says confidently, he hasn’t tried this tactic yet, “I’m looking for an inpatient facility for my sister.”
Miller is looking between Bellamy and the girl on the couch like she’s some kind of apparition.
He doesn’t know what to do and it frightens him. Miller always knows what to do – it’s what makes him such a good soldier.
“There’s a centre about three hours away that’s agreed to see her,” Bellamy says, shaking Miller out of his thoughts.
Miller watches as his friend, his best friend, goes over and scoops the girl up.
“What are you doing? Bellamy, you’re meant to be getting married you need to speak to Clarke.” Miller reminds him firmly.
“I know, I will. I just can’t now, I have to get my sister some help.” He says tiredly.
“She’s waiting for you,” Miller says softly, not recognising the man in front of him.
“Can you go to her? Tell her, I’m sorry.” Bellamy says distractedly.
“What the fuck man? This isn’t you. Last night you were practically writing poetry about her and now you can’t even call.” Miller snaps.
“It’s too much. I need to get Octavia the help she needs. It’s too late for my mom, it’s not too late for her.” Bellamy says his tone flat.
Miller has known him for so long that he thought he’d seen every version of Bellamy, but this one – broken but defiant and determined – is one he doesn’t recognise. Not like this. He’s only seen it on the battlefield.
Miller follows Bellamy outside to his car, where he puts the still out of it girl into the passenger seat. There’s something so paternal about the way that Bellamy puts the seatbelt over her and brushes back her hair that Miller knows this is something new. A side of Bellamy he’s never seen.
“Please talk to Clarke. Tell her I’m sorry. She’ll understand.” Bellamy pleads.
Miller wants to tell him to fuck off. Tell him that he won’t do that – it’s not his responsibility – but he doesn’t. Bellamy is more than a friend, he’s a brother and he’s his Sergeant, Miller would follow him to the ends of the earth, has done before. This is no different.
He accepts the quick distracted hug that Bellamy gives him and heads to his car.
*
Bellamy doesn’t think about anything as he drives. He doesn’t allow himself to. He has to be strong for this girl, his sister, Octavia.
“Where the fuck are you taking me?” She mutters when she wakes.
“To get some food.” He lies.
“I’m not hungry.” She snarls.
“You might be when we get there.” He shrugs.
Bellamy thanks whoever is up there that she doesn’t seem paranoid, or frightened of him, just weary.
He knew it wouldn’t be easy to get her in the centre but he didn’t think it would be this hard.
“Rehab? Are you out of your fucking mind.” She grits at him as they pull up in the parking lot, “I don’t need rehab.”
“Good then it won’t be a long stay, will it.”
“Fuck you, I’m not going in.”
“Fine, then you stay here. You’re not clean, you get back out of my life.”
“I survived this long without you, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She spits, wrenching open the car door and getting out.
“Where are you gonna go? You don’t even know where we are?” He sighs, following her.
“I’ll manage.”
“Will you just go in and see the doctor. If they say you don’t have to stay then I’ll take you wherever.”
Bellamy knows they’ll make her stay and he can see in the set of her shoulders, the glimmer of fear in her eyes, that she knows it too.
“No.”
“Why did you come to me then? If you don’t want my help?” He asks.
“You’re my family, apparently.”
“Apparently so.” He scoffs.
“You don’t believe me?”
“If I didn’t believe you I wouldn’t be here.” He snaps, “I’d be with my wife.”
“What?” She breathes quietly.
“Fuck, I’d be getting married.” He sighs shakily.
Bellamy doesn’t know if it’s his tone, the expression on his face or she’s just had enough of fighting but something in Octavia’s demeanour shifts then.
“I’ll have one fucking conversation with them. Got it. Just one.”
*
Miller has seen a lot of things in his life that he would prefer to forget. Now he can add true heartbreak to that list.
He can’t get the sight of Clarke, in her wedding dress, her face crumbling before his eyes out of his mind. He knows it will pass eventually. He’s good at blocking things out. Although the incessant questioning from Lincoln and Roan is making it feel that day will never come.
“For the last time, I know nothing more than what I’ve told you.” Miller snaps from the back seat scrubbing his hand across his eyes, thankful that he is not driving.
“I know man. It just doesn’t make sense.” Lincoln sighs.
After Wells had ushered Miller from Clarke’s room with a stony glare, he’d gone back downstairs. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing everyone sitting ready for a wedding he knew would never happen but he knew he had to find the guys.
He was agonising over how to find them when Roan and Lincoln appeared.
“He’s late.” Roan shrugged in answer to Miller’s questioning gaze.
“He’s not coming.” Miller sighs, “Let's go. I’ll explain on the way.”
And because they’re a unit, they follow. They don’t ask questions until they’re on the road.
“Ok, GPS says we’re about half an hour away.” Lincoln says from the passenger seat, “And we’re sure this is the one he was taking her too.”
They’ve all tried calling him but the phone keeps going to voicemail.
“Yep, a hundred per cent.” Miller replies.
“Can we go over this one more time, please?” Roan asks softly, “Just so I don’t fuck up when we’re there.”
“The whole thing is fucked up, but sure, why not.” Miller grumbles, scrubbing his face, “I went to collect him this morning as discussed and when I arrive he’s half dressed, anxiously on the phone, with some wasted teenager on his couch. He manages to get through to this City of Light place we’re going to and then he’s all business asking me to tell Clarke he’s not coming and bundling the girl in the car.”
“I just don’t get it. Clarke is his whole fucking world.” Roan grits.
“I know.” Miller nods.
“There must be more to it, something we don’t know,” Lincoln suggests reasonably.
“I don’t think there is. I’ve been trying to go through from every angle and I think he just saw this girl--”
“His sister?” Roan confirms quietly.
“His sister.” Miller agrees, “And he thought, fuck I have to fix it.”
“I get that. I know he’s like that. Fuck we all remember Kosovo.” Roan starts, “But this is Clarke. He’s let down Clarke. I truly thought he’d die for her.”
“I think he would. I just think he couldn’t hold onto both, he knows this girl, the sister, needs help, and he knows Clarke will forgive him.” Miller says firmly.
There’s silence in the car as Roan follows the instructions and pulls off at the next exit. Eventually Lincoln says what they’re all thinking.
“Will she though?”
*
The rehab centre is a small building on the outskirts of town. Unassuming, it could be an office block anywhere.
“Well, he’s definitely here.” Lincoln says, pointing to Bellamy’s truck in the parking lot, “How are we gonna play this?”
“Just ask for Blake, I guess?” Miller shrugs getting out of the car and stretching.
“Is the girl even a Blake?” Roan asks.
“Fuck knows. But Bellamy was mostly in uniform when he left earlier, so they should take one look at us and assume we’re with him.” Miller says.
They’re all still in uniform. They got straight in Roan’s car from the ceremony and headed to the rehab centre, not bothering to change.
A combination of their looks, charm and the fact that they’re all in uniform gets them past the receptionist who tells them that Sergeant Blake and his sister are in the South Wing.
They follow the winding corridors, painted in soothing pastels, until they come to a sign saying South Wing.
“Now where?” Roan asks.
“Room 305 apparently.” Miller supplies.
They walk down the rooms until they spy 305. There’s a round glass window in the door and a row of chairs outside.
Miller sets his shoulders and peeks through the glass. He sees the girl asleep in the bed with Bellamy hunched in a chair next to her, just watching over her.
“That’s the room.” Miller confirms, “Should we wait out here?”
“We should at least let him know we’re here,” Roan says reasonably.
They all nod but no one wants to be the one to bring reality to the door. No one is ready for what’s on the other side of the door. Eventually, it’s Roan that steps forward and taps lightly on the door, before pushing it open.
“Hey man,” Roan says softly.
“Glazer? The fuck?” Bellamy looks up startled.
Roan opens the door to move further into the room but Bellamy takes a look at the sleeping figure and shakes his head, standing up slowly and coming towards the door.
He steps out, pulling the door softly behind him. He takes in Miller and Lincoln and almost unthinkingly his eyes start searching the corridor behind them.
“Clarke?” Bellamy asks hopefully.
The three of them share a look, not knowing what to say. Bellamy looks at them again, all in their dress uniforms and the reality of the situation seems to hit him all at once.
“Fuck.” He sways, and Roan puts out an arm to steady him, “what have I done.”
“I need to speak to Clarke. I need to see her...” He croaks out, his voice watery, “But my sister. I can’t leave my sister.”
Miller knows what heartbreak looks like. He saw it on Clarke’s face earlier and he knows he’s seeing a version of it now.
“Call her. I’ll stay out here with you and they can sit in with your sister.” Miller says gesturing to Roan and Lincoln, “Have you got your phone?”
“It’s dead,” Bellamy says quietly, scrubbing his hands over his face.
Without speaking Roan, Lincoln and Miller go into problem-solving mode. The find a charger and a seat in the corridor near a power point so Bellamy doesn’t have to wait to speak to Clarke. Lincoln goes in to sit with the girl, while Roan gets Bellamy a coffee and a sandwich. They support their friend, their Sergeant.
Roan and Lincoln are in the room and Miller is sitting next to Bellamy on the plastic chairs that line the corridor.
“There’s no answer.” Bellamy sighs for what could be the fifth or fiftieth time. Miller’s lost count.
“Do you want to try my phone?” Miller asks.
“What’s the use? Her phone is off. I’ve fucked up. I was so sure Clarke would understand that I didn’t even fucking bother to explain.” Bellamy hisses, shooting up out of the chair all anger and frustration at himself. He stalks the corridor before turning suddenly and punching the wall.
Miller is pretty certain that if the chairs weren’t nailed to the floor one of them would be the next casualty.
“Hey man, come on. There’s still time to fix this.” Miller says standing and speaking softly, “You just need to take a minute, you’ve been going non-stop.”
Bellamy rubs his bloody hand over his face and sighs deeply, “can you give me a minute.”
“Sure, I’ll be in with the guys,” Miller says, clapping him on the back and walking to room 305. He glances over at Bellamy before he pushes the door to the room open and sees him sink back down onto the chair, his head in his hands.
*
“Is he ok?” Lincoln says softly as Miller leans against the wall.
“No. She won’t answer.”
“Fuck.” Roan breathes.
They’re all silent, trying not to wake the girl, but something has stirred her because she croaks, “Who the fuck are you?”
“We serve with your brother,” Lincoln answers softly, “he’s right outside.”
Roan is on his feet to get Bellamy, while the girl eyes Lincoln warily.
“I’m Lincoln.” He smiles.
“Octavia.” She replies, reluctantly.
“This is Nate but everyone calls him Miller. And the guy that went to get Bellamy is Roan.”
“And you work with my,” She pauses awkwardly, “with Bellamy?”
“Yeah, we’re his unit,” Miller tells her.
“What’s with the fancy clothes?” Octavia asks but they’re saved from having to answer by Bellamy.
“Hey.” Bellamy says rushing in, “how are you feeling?”
He goes straight over to her and although they don’t look alike there’s something in the set of their jaws, their shoulders, that is familial.
“Like shit. Whatever they gave me is nasty.” She grumbles.
“It’s to help you sleep, so tomorrow they can start getting you back on your feet.”
“I know how rehab works Bellamy. You forget I lived at home with mom. This is not my first rodeo.” She spits.
“We’ll give you guys some space,” Lincoln says, standing with the others.
“Don’t leave on my account.” Octavia shrugs, trying to be defiant from her hospital bed.
“Nah it’s fine, we’ll raid the vending machine or something.” Roan grins.
Miller is half out the door, Roan and Lincoln behind him when Octavia asks, “so where’s your wife?”
He stills, Roan and Lincoln do the same, waiting for Bellamy’s response.
“She’s not my wife.” He murmurs quietly.
“I thought you said…” Octavia trails off.
“She’s my fiancée. Was, I guess, we were uhh…” Bellamy stutters, not finding the words.
There’s a pause. Octavia looks at all of them, her mind slowly putting the pieces together.
“Please tell me those are your regular uniforms.” She questions anxiously.
“Not exactly.” Roan supplies when it becomes clear Bellamy isn’t going to speak.
“I ruined your wedding?” Octavia guesses in a small voice.
“You didn’t. Clarke will understand, she’s the best, she’ll understand I promise.” Bellamy says, tears filling his eyes as he sits next to Octavia on the bed.
“Mom was right, I’m such a fuck up.” She cries softly.
“You’re not. Octavia, you’re not a fuck up.” Bellamy tells her pulling her up and into his arms, holding her tightly while she sobs out years of frustrations.
In the corridor Miller, Roan and Lincoln sit down on the plastic chairs and wait.
“He called and called and nothing,” Miller tells them softly.
They’ve been sitting in the corridor for about half an hour, the light starting to shift. Fluorescent lights pining on as the darkness sets in.
“She’ll understand though, right? It’s Clarke she loves him. Once he explains, she'll get it.” Roan says hopefully.
“I don’t know man, you didn’t see her face.” Miller replies squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see it again, “she broke.”
They sit quietly in under the harsh light until Bellamy opens the door again. His eyes are red and tired and the despite his best efforts the tear tracks are still visible on his cheeks. He looks wrecked.
“Come in.”
“Sorry, for the waterworks,” Octavia says tiredly when they all come back in, her eyes red still.
“Happens to the best of us.” Roan shrugs, “Mostly Miller.”
“Fuck you. I’m not the one who can’t get through the end of A Perfect Storm without sobbing.” Miller replies.
“It’s fucking heart-breaking, what are you? Dead inside?” Roan shoots back with a grin.
That gets a smile out of Octavia, a small one, but it makes her look more like the young girl she is rather than the world-weary woman they saw before.
“Apparently you guys are his family.” Octavia starts when they’re all sitting, she's nervous fiddling with her blankets.
“Yeah, sucks to be us,” Roan smirks, but his tone is fond.
“So, as uhh, I am too,” she tries hesitantly, looking at Bellamy who smiles softly. It gives her the courage she needs because when she speaks again her voice is stronger, “I was thinking we should as a family, convince him that he should go and get his wife back.”
“Octavia,” Bellamy starts.
“No! I know you don’t want to leave me alone but it’s my fault, ok. And you’re clearly a fucking mess. You love her, you should at least try.”
Octavia looks at them all pleadingly, with her big eyes, while Bellamy looks at the floor.
“I agree with the in-person approach,” Lincoln says carefully, “But it’s more than a four-hour drive to her mom’s place.”
“So?” Octavia snarls.
“So maybe, he should go in the morning? Fresh?” Miller suggests.
“But he should go, right. I’ll be fine. Tell him I’ll be fine.”
“She says she’ll be fine,” Roan deadpans.
Octavia flips him off.
“Looks fine to me.” Roan smirks, which earns him a smile from her.
“If you don’t want to go–” Miller starts.
“Are you fucking kidding, of course, I want to go.” Bellamy snaps as Miller knew he would, “I need to see her. I need to fix this with her.”
“Then one of us can drive you, in the morning,” Roan says.
“Excellent.” Octavia grins, her discomfort around the Ark Unit boys already forgotten.
Bellamy is silent and when he does finally speak it’s so soft they have strain to hear him, “what if she doesn’t want to see me? Or can’t forgive me?”
“She will. She loves you right?” Octavia says firmly looking at the others, who nod, “She’ll understand. I know it.”