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Time had become impossible to judge for her – the last hundred and twenty-five years had felt like nothing; the previous six had felt like an eternity – so Clarke couldn't say how long they stood there, holding onto each other as they mourned their friends and gazed at the new home they'd made possible.
It was blinding to look at, and she didn't know if it was the light from two suns or the beauty of a living planet below her, but she couldn't pull her eyes from it.
The old leadership instinct in her rose to the surface for a moment. Her mind filled up with lists of things to do – all the roles they'd need to assign and the policies they'd need to put in place before landing. She parted her lips to speak to Bellamy, ask him some question, start the conversation. But her next thought was of their existing food supply, and that brought her solidly back to Monty, and Harper, and the present. Or rather, to the past, as their old friends now were to them.
She closed her mouth again and leaned into Bellamy a little more as fresh tears spilled down her face. Clarke felt the muscles of his neck and the fabric of his shirt shift as he turned his head to the side. His forehead came to rest in her hair and suddenly Clarke's weren't the only tears she could feel on her skin.
She parted her lips again, but this time she spoke.
"I'm so sorry, Bellamy," she murmured. "I know they were your family and I'm so, so sorry."
He pulled away a bit and she looked up to find a strange expression on his face – something between agreement and confusion – but it was fleeting and quickly replaced by sorrow. He offered her the most meager of smiles in acknowledgement of what she had said.
Clarke was struck in that moment by how familiar he was to her like that. Even with the beard and different hair and the new way he carried himself, a grieving Bellamy was someone she remembered very well. For a moment she was back on Earth, back when they were a team, and although the grief was a constant then, they were at their best when they bore it together.
Clarke reached up finally to wipe the tears from her face and Bellamy slid his hand from her shoulder. Then they turned from the window to the strangely familiar face of the man they'd just met.
Bellamy was the first to speak. "It's really good to meet you, Jordan," he said as he extended his hand. Jordan smiled wide but didn't extend his own; instead he just looked down at Bellamy's. Clarke cracked a small smile of her own.
"It's a handshake," she said, "like a greeting."
Jordan's eyes lit up with recognition, so his mom and dad must have taught him the concept at some point. He reached out his own and grasped Bellamy's, then turned and took Clarke's.
"It really is good to meet you," she echoed. It wasn't untrue. It was good to meet him – she just would have preferred if his parents were still around to introduce them. Monty and Harper were part of Bellamy's family, and once they had been like family to Clarke. Now they never would be again.
"I guess it's time, then," said Jordan. He took a few steps back toward the door. "I think it makes the most sense to wake people in groups – that's how my mom said she'd do it."
Clarke and Bellamy looked to one another and Clarke saw her own hesitation reflected back.
"Small groups," she said. "Let's just wake family first, and then we'll go from there."
Jordan had known that once he went into cryo, he'd never see his parents again. They must have said goodbye properly as he prepared for sleep. But for those who had been asleep the whole time, the shock of their deaths would be difficult. Adding the bedlam of four hundred other people emerging from their pods all around would only make it worse.
"Okay," he said as Bellamy nodded. "You wake the first group and I'll go get water ready for everyone."
Jordan slipped back through the doorway and Clarke made to follow him, but found herself pulled back before she reached it by a hand around her wrist.
"Wait, Clarke," said Bellamy, his voice low and the sorrow still apparent in his eyes. She stilled for a moment, afraid of what he might want from her. She wasn't sure they were on completely solid ground yet, and on top of everything she really did not want to argue with him right now.
But he didn't argue, and he also didn't drop her wrist. Instead he took both her hands in his and looked down at them.
"Before…" he trailed off for a second and Clarke turned to face him fully. "Before we wake everybody up and the chaos sets in…" He kept his eyes on their joined hands and squeezed hers softly. "Let's just take a moment."
"A moment?" she asked, dipping her head to see his face. His brows were furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together.
"A moment." He met her eyes again. "To appreciate the calm and the quiet, before everything goes to hell."
Clarke returned the soft squeeze of his hands as she nodded and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and brought his forehead down to rest gently against hers. The intimacy of the act almost knocked Clarke off balance.
From what she remembers about their time together on Earth – the first time – they had always been somewhat comfortable with one another's touch. But then she spent six years without it – without this kind of touch from anyone. Apparently, it would take longer than a hundred and twenty-five years to get used to it again.
That didn't mean she didn't appreciate it now, or that she hadn't longed for it, craved it even. When he dropped her hands to wrap his arms around her, a few more tears formed in her eyes. He pulled her against his chest and from the feel of his stuttered breaths, she knew he was crying again, too.
"I missed you so much," he whispered into her neck.
Clarke involuntarily let out a small laugh and gripped the front of his shirt, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye as she answered him. "God, I missed you too. You have no idea. Every single day I wished you were there with me."
Bellamy's eyes blazed and Clarke heard and felt his sharp intake of breath. In truth it was more of a confession – or closer to one – than she had intended. But Bellamy didn't push her away. He lifted one hand to her face and wiped away the tears there, and then he pressed his lips to her forehead, quickly and firmly, before resting his own forehead there once more.
It was then, with the ghost of his lips on her skin and his hand still warm against her cheek and the tip of his nose grazing hers – it was then that she felt it.
It was the connection they'd had many decades and light years ago; it was forgiveness; it was possibility; it was longing. But it was also too much. They had arrived dangerously close to a line, and it was time to step back. So that's what she did, letting her hands drop from his chest.
Bellamy opened his eyes and Clarke saw fear there. Maybe he was also realizing how close they were to that line.
"It's time," she said, and he cleared his throat and nodded. "I'll go wake up Madi, you wake up Echo, and then we'll wake the rest."
Bellamy waited for Clarke to go back through the door to cryo first, and she could feel him watching her as she led the way.
Something had changed for them – or perhaps it had changed back. Clarke didn't know exactly what it was, but if it meant they could be a team again – if it meant that on occasion he would hold her like he just had – if it meant that she could admit how much she cared for him – then she knew she could bear anything.