Chapter Text
The green glow of his alarm clock tells him it’s 3:47 in the morning, but that’s not what woke him up. There’s a soft patter of the end of a storm from his window, but it’s the vibration of his phone on the nightstand that cuts through his sleep.
His stomach drops, excited and terrified of what an early morning call could mean. A blocked number could mean anything, it could be bad news, Octavia could have been in an accident, one of his friends. But it could be good news, it could be the best news.
“Hello?” He answers hastily, his voice still full of sleep.
“Mr Blake” he’d know the voice of his consultant anywhere, his weak heart beat a bit faster, tightening his chest. “You need to come right away. We’ve found a donor.”
Tears spring to his eyes as he dials Octavia’s number. This was never meant to happen to people like him, he was told he’d never make it to his thirtieth birthday. Octavia screams and orders Lincoln to stay with Augustus and she’ll be there in ten.
Now he’s sat in a paper thin hospital gown with an excited buzz around him. His consultant hugs him tightly and Octavia weeps next to him. Surgeons grill him about when he last ate and drank as a nurse was putting a Cannula in his hand. His heads spinning with fear and excitement. Anticipation burns through him and he’s worried that his heart won’t even make it into surgery.
“It’s time,” his doctor nods at him. Octavia clings to him, weeping softly in his ear. “I love you big brother,” she whispers.
“I love you too”
*
He wakes soaked in sweat and his heart racing - for the first time it doesn’t hurt. The images behind his head confuses and shakes him to his core, he’s no stranger to strange dreams, but these are something else entirely. Slowly, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, letting his hands stop shaking and his heart rate get back to normal—whatever normal was these days.
“Morning” Octavia greets him in the kitchen. She was here too much these days, it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the help, but she has a family she should be with. He’s not used to being taken care of, either. Since he was six years old he’s been more or less been a parent, so Octavia babying him was somewhat alien. She hands him a glass of orange juice, freshly squeezed and strained. He’d roll his eyes if he wasn’t so touched.
He stares hard at the table, the screeching metal still screaming in his ears. “I’ve never been in a car crash” it’s not a question, he just wants confirmation.
“No,” She tells him gently. “You haven’t”
He nods, he knows he hasn’t, there’s no gaps in his memory, no missing pieces. Heart surgery doesn’t give you amnesia, nor is it supposed to give you new memories.
So why do his dreams feel so real?
“Maya called,” Octavia draws him out his thoughts, he looks up to where she was flipping pancakes at the stove. Her eyes brows knit together and her teeth worry her bottom lip, he knows her well enough to know something’s bothering her.
“And?” He prompts.
“She’s coming over at eleven, said there’s something she wants to talk to us about.”
Maya’s his counsellor, and an actual angel. She’s been there from when she was newly qualified, Bellamy was her first patient, four years before they found a donor.
“Probably just a check in” He assures her, though his stomach drops anyway. People like him don’t get luck like this, he’s terrified someone was going to tell him there’d been a grave mistake, the donor wasn’t meant for him.
“Probably” She half heartedly agrees. “I’m working from home today anyway, I’ve already told them.”
“O” he tries with a sigh, but she cuts him off with a look. “You don’t have to do this, you can go back home. I’m not going to fall apart.”
“I know,” she tries to sound nonchalant, but he knows how much it plays on her mind. Upstairs, Augustus’s laughter echoes as Lincoln tries to get him ready for school. “It’s just—god I thought this would never happen. You were getting weaker by the day, we’d planned your funeral, I was trying to get Gus ready, telling him that Uncle Bell might not be here forever and here you are, after major heart surgery you’re healthier than ever. I just think I’ll wake up and it's all a dream,” a tear runs down her cheek, he stands and wraps his arms around her. He takes her shaking hand and puts it over his heart. The scar’s only just healing, but it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. She let out a choked laugh.
“See. It works fine,” He’s never felt his heart beat so strong “I’m here for the long run, no getting rid of me now.”
“Like I’d ever do that,” She rests her head on his chest, he knows the feeling. The need to just know it was real, that he has a working heart now, that they’re not going to be spending their days worrying about what the next one will bring. He doesn’t doubt that life will bring more worries, but it’s one less these days. Heavy footsteps on the stairs makes him step back. Octavia wipes her eyes and starts putting the pancakes onto plates.
Gus runs up to him and throws his arms around his legs. “Hey buddy,” He grins, pulling him onto his lap. Octavia made a sound of protest – he wasn’t supposed to do any heavy lifting, but he hardly thought his six year old nephew counted as heavy. “What are you doing at school today?”
“All the boring stuff” He screws up his face in distaste and Bellamy laughs, he looks so much like Octavia when he does that. To think, this is what he almost lost.
“Well all that boring stuff makes you clever, and you want to be clever like daddy don’t you?”
Gus nods, “And mommy.”
“Hmm, maybe mommy,” Bellamy smiles when Octavia flicks a bit of flour at him.
“I’m plenty smart,” she huffs. “You’re getting the burnt pancakes for saying that”
“You cant be that smart if you burnt the pancakes” he points out, she rolls her eyes and tells Gus to sit on his chair for breakfast.
Eating breakfast as a family distracts him somewhat, Lincoln didn’t have a lot to say when he’d first met him, but Bellamy can’t find the off switch these days. It’s nice though, that his sister had found someone who loved her like she deserves to be loved. That was his one wish before he died, that his sister would be looked after and happy once he wasn’t there.
Once Lincoln’s practically dragged Gus out the house, he steps into the shower. It’s too hot, but he’s spent his life being cold, anything below nuclear feels wrong. He watches the water beads run down his chest, the big ugly scar that kept him alive was stark and purple against his tanned skin. He put his hand over his heart, thinking about the car going too fast, the storm obstructing his vision, the steering wheel was too light under his grip, the breaks unresponsive, the flash of blonde hair shouting over the rumble of thunder.
None of these memories are his own, but they’re as vivid as dancing around the kitchen with his mother and Octavia’s first day at school. The phone call to say they’d found a donor.
He turns the water off and throws a towel around his waist. The alarm clock told him it’s ten thirty, only half an hour until Maya gets here.
Maybe Maya would know about these memories, she’s probably the best person to ask. She was never judgemental, and he’d feel a but stupid asking his consultant. Though he’s nice, he’s also very serious and to the point.
He’s just throwing on a t-shirt when the doorbell rings, loud and old fashioned—still the same one his grandfather had installed after he’d built the house. His mother always said they don’t build them like they used to, which is a good job, since he can’t afford to fix anything that breaks. He jogs downstairs just as Octavia’s answering the door, a sunny smile on her face as she lets Maya in.
“Maya,” He nods, taking her jacket. “Good to see you.”
“It’s lovely to see you,” She smiles sweetly. Bellamy doubted she was ever anything other than sweet. “You look so well.”
“Thank you,” he smiles genuinely. “I feel better than ever”
“That would be the new heart” Maya jokes as she sits on the old arm chair. Octavia brings her coffee just as she likes it, it’s strange how some people just fit into your life like that, even under the tragic circumstances they found someone special from it. She nods her thanks as Octavia sits next to him on the sofa. “So how are you adjusting? It’s been three months now, the doctors cleared you for light exercises”
“It’s good,” He smiles, and he means it. It’s never been better than it is now. “Really good, I’ve started jogging – nothing too vigorous, just enough to get my heart rate up. I've never really been able to do that before.”
“That’s brilliant, Bellamy. How does it feel? To be able to exercise without concern.”
“Amazing” He tells her quietly. All his life he’s been frail and weak, his heart threatening to give out at any second. He was told he wouldn’t see thirty, he got a new heart six months before this thirtieth birthday. His biggest achievement to date would be growing old.
“Any problems? Concerns you might have?” She looks at him expectantly, and Octavia nudges him pointedly. She couldn’t be more obvious if she tried.
“Well, there was something, I might be being stupid or whatever, its probably nothing.”
Octavia huffs next to him, Maya just nods encouragingly. He feels like he’s going mad though, bad dreams are normal, everybody gets them and that’s what Maya’s going to tell him, not that he’s got this sudden insight to his donors last moments. The thought sends a chill down his spine, the last thing he wants to think of is how they died. It’s bad enough that he feels like an imposter, walking around with a heart that doesn’t belong to him, having done nothing to deserve it.
“I keep having this dream, about a storm and a car crash. I've never been in a car crash in my life but this feels so real, it’s as vivid as my own memories. It’s not like I have it once or twice, it's every night, it wakes me up in the middle of the night, and I’m so scared,” he feels small, vulnerable admitting that he was scared of a dream when three months ago he’d had open heart surgery. That was never him, he’s never been scared of anything, not even dying.
A flash of sadness takes over Maya’s features, she’d looked taken aback for a moment but she recovers well, her professional smile plastering her face. “Scientifically speaking, that hearts just an organ. It’s just muscle, there’s no memories attached to it, it doesn’t really feel in the sense you think it does. When people say their heart is breaking, it's not the organ, it's your metaphorical heart, I like to think it's your soul.”
Bellamy nods as Maya confirms he is in fact going crazy.
“Not scientifically speaking though” Maya continued “You’re not the first person who gets flashbacks after an organ transplant. There’s no real explanation for it, but it happens. So you’re not crazy, I can't give you the answer you’re looking for because I don’t know why you’re seeing it, but there’s a group you may be interested in, a support group. People like you – people who have had transplants. It might do you some good to talk about your experiences with like minded people. I know you were against it when I first brought it up, but now you’ve had some time to adjust it might be something you find helpful.”
She’s right, Bellamy had been dead set against it when she suggested it in their meeting before he was discharged, he just wanted to be normal, not the weak boy he was before, always on the brink of death. He wanted to be a man, strong and healthy. He didn’t want to sit around and talk about the past.
“I’ll think about it,” he mutters, though this time he might actually.
“That’s all I ask,” She smiles and sips her coffee.
“On the phone you said there was something important to wanted to talk about,” Octavia prompts worriedly, picking the skin next to her nail—her nervous tick.
“Yes, I did” Maya drops her head and retrieves a folder from her bag. Bellamy’s stomach sinks and his heart speeds up. “Just after your transplant, you asked about the family of the donor, you wanted to know if you could know who the donor was.”
Bellamy nods, he’s had a moral battle all his life—without a new heart he’d die, but to get a new heart someone would have to die. He still felt that guilt lying heavy on his chest, that someone had lost someone they loved dearly so he could live. He wasn’t even sure he deserved this heart, so the thought of someone mourning a heartless body while he went on early morning jogs eats away at him. Why should he get to live this life? What gives him the right to keep on living on borrowed time?
“I couldn’t give that information away at the time” Maya tells them, “and I still can’t, but the family of the donor—well, their daughter actually—wanted to get in touch. You don’t have to meet her, but it might help all of you get some closure.”
“No” Bellamy snaps, his vision jolting for a second. He can’t do this, he can’t sit in front of someone, healthier than he’s ever been and comfort some mourning.
“Bell” Octavia murmurs, gripping his hand.
“I cant” he pinches the bridge of his nose, a headache blooming at the back of his eyes. “I can't, O.”
“You don’t have to decide right now, talk it through, sleep on it. You can take as much time as you need” Maya tells him with a reassuring smile, putting her folder back and standing up.
“I’ll see you out” Octavia walks to the door with her, but Bellamy can’t move, he can barely breathe. He needs to calm himself, he knows he does. He has a choice in this, he knows he does. But it still doesn’t stop the images flashing behind his eyes, the car crash, the flash of blonde hair, the pleading eyes.
“Give me a call if you Change your mind or just need to talk” Maya nods at him before she leaves.
The silence deafens him as Octavia stares sadly at him, her green eyes watery. “Bellamy—”
“What the hell am I supposed to say to the woman whose fathers heart I stole?”
Octavia sighs and sits next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “You didn’t steal anything, the family gave his organs willingly. This is what they wanted, for someone to have a life.”
Bellamy’s breath comes out shaky, his heart pounding in his chest.
Not yours it pounds, not yours.
“What if they think I’m not good enough for the heart? What if they regret giving it away?”
“Then that’s their problem. But don’t you think they deserve a bit of closure too?” Of course she’s right, and it’s the least he can do, give someone’s loved one some closure for giving him life, but he just can’t face someone who would look at him with such sadness, knowing he’s only adding to their grief.
“It’s not going to happen, O.”
*
He wakes up in a cold sweat, jolting upright as the car hits the tree. It takes him a minute to remember—he’s at home, safe in bed. He’s never been in a car crash in his life. These images that come to him in his sleep aren’t real, they don’t belong to him and they never will, it’s just a bad dream.
The clock tells him it’s five thirty in the morning. He never sleeps in anymore, it’s like his body was telling him he had a new life, a chance that not many people get. Don’t waste it.
He dresses in his jogging gear as silently as he can, slipping his shoes on and jogging down the wooden steps that will probably need repairing soon. He doesn’t have that kind of money right now, it seems like a luxury he can’t afford.. Maybe he never will have that kind of money, enough to fix things before they break completely. He has a new heart though, and a chance to see his family grow up, that’s something money can’t buy.
He jogs slowly, taking in the misty grey morning. The birds waking up and singing to their young. The early risers heading to work in their stuffy suits and the lovers sneaking back home. He tries his hardest to forget those dreams, but they get more and more vivid each night. He always wakes drenched in sweat and his head feeling like it’s splitting open.
He doesn’t realise he’s overdoing it until he has to come to a sudden halt and sit on the cold floor to get his breath back. It takes him a minute too long to realise that he’s outside a graveyard, bleaker because of the dull morning, a macabre fog settles over him as he looks towards it. A woman stands with a bunch of flowers, murmuring quietly to the tombstone in front of her. Maybe her husband, maybe her father. It could have been anyone. It could have been him. It could have even Octavia standing damp and cold talking to him over a bouquet of flowers.
He’s not okay.
He phones Maya when he deems it an acceptable time, after everybody’s gone to school and work. He’d demanded Octavia get out the house, he’ll still be there when she gets back, it’s not like he’s going anywhere.
It’s two days later when he walks into a cold church hall. He’s never been religious, even at his sickest, even when his mother overdosed and left him with a failing heart and a sixteen year old to look after, he never once prayed to a God he didn’t think would care about him. But here he was, filling a plastic cup with water and sitting next to an older man with a shaky hand in a circle.
Octavia had been over the moon that he’s decided to go to a support group. She was in constant fear of saying the wrong thing to him, said that talking to other people who had been through similar things would give him some perspective.
Maya sits happily in the circle, welcoming them all there. All being six of them, Maya said smaller groups were better for discussions, he’s just glad that he doesn’t have to spill his guts to a room full of people, even if they were in similar situations it doesn’t make him feel any better about telling them he’s losing his mind.
There’s a young girl there called Charlotte who also had a heart transplant, she’s sad looking and weary, and much too young to be going through what she had. Maybe it’s better that she’s had the transplant young, she’s got the rest of her life without worry now.
“The not drinking things a bitch” a sharp looking woman called Echo told the group. She’d had a liver transplant six months ago, she’s straight faced and a little harsh in tone. Perhaps around his age, and if Octavia was here she'd be telling him to make friends. He’s not sure he wants to make friends with someone just because they’ve had a transplant too. “But my skin doesn’t look yellow anymore, so that’s something.”
The older man next to him—Marcus had a kidney transplant from a friend who didn’t make it through the surgery. No one had told him under after the transplant was done. Bellamy’s heart breaks for him, it’s one thing knowing someone had to die for his heart, but they were a stranger, a faceless entity who had already passed on, there was nothing Bellamy could have done to help them. He can’t imagine the pain of knowing that someone who may still be here today died so you’d get a new lease of life.
A severe woman called Indra had a Lung transplant and became a self defence teacher after a year of travelling and skydiving. Said she wants to put her new life to good use, do all the things her donor never got to do—a teenager, she tells them. Not even old enough to go to college and never got to see the world, so she’s doing it for them.
“Kidney transplant, too,” a woman called Niylah smiles, nodding at Marcus. She has a kind look about her, there’s something about her eyes though, a deep sadness there that she probably tries to keep hidden. “I never knew them, I got really sick and they couldn’t do anything until I had at least 1 working kidney. I got moved to the top of the list but I still didn’t think I’d make it—but here I am.”
Everyone looks at Bellamy expectantly, Maya smiling encouragingly telling him to go on, to tell his story that sounds so much like everyone else's. “Bellamy Blake” He nods, raising his cup to the group. He feels like he’s in an AA meeting, except they were all dying instead of alcoholics. “I had a heart transplant three months ago, a heart defect since I was born. They said I wouldn’t make my thirtieth birthday, but it looks like my sister gets to plan a party after all.”
Everyone smiles kindly at him, Maya brings up guilt, and everyone lets out a nervous breath. This is why he didn’t want to come here, he doesn’t want to hash out his feelings to a bunch of strangers. Just because they’ve all been through something similar doesn’t mean they all understand each other's pain. That’s not how pain works, if everybody felt the same kind of pain then there wouldn’t be a need for things like this, happy circles of talking about your feelings.
“I just feel like I don’t deserve this” He tells them at his turn, he may as well tell them now that he’s here. Maybe Octavia is right, maybe talking about it will make it better. “The doctors told me so many different ages I wouldn’t live to see and each time my birthday came around I never felt like it was my time. When they said thirty I thought sure, whatever—but as it got closer I made my peace, I knew I wouldn’t make it. I was days away from being hospitalised anyway, they were ready to make me oxygen dependent and I went to bed one night and thought I might not wake up. I got the call that night saying there was a donor and I had to go in right away. Sometimes I just feel like it should have gone to someone who was ready to keep living.”
Next to him, Marcus puts a reassuring hand on his knee. “Just because you made your peace doesn’t mean you’re undeserving. Make a new life.”
He nods, and waits until everyone else has said their piece before he broaches the subject of his dreams.
“I used to get them too,” Charlotte says wearily across from him. “I used to feel like I was falling, it hurt so bad I used to wake up screaming. It stopped after I met my donors family, I think—I think it helped that they told me the heart was mine, I felt like it belonged to someone else until I saw them. My donor died after she hit her head falling down the stairs, no ones ever been able to explain why I knew that. I just did.”
Bellamy nods sympathetically, but internally he’s horrified, he’s considered that the car crash he sees in his dreams could be how his donor died, but hearing Charlotte confirm it was maybe a bit too much.
“I’ll do it” He tells Maya after the session’s over. Maybe it’s a good idea, maybe it’s an awful idea, but it’s something he has to do, if not to put his mind at ease. “I’ll meet the daughter”
“Fantastic” she practically squeals. “She’ll be so pleased. I'll get in touch with her today and pop round to see you if i get chance tomorrow to organise it.”
Octavia was almost giddy the following Saturday as she blitzes the house from five in the morning. She’s brought every drink imaginable because she wants to be prepared for every situation.
“What if she’s a hard liquor kind of a woman?” Lincoln asks with a smirk from where he’s on the floor playing with Gus. “What if she only drinks scotch from the bottle?”
“Shut up,” she mutters back, but brightens up suddenly as she excitedly pulls something from her bag. She dangles a stethoscope from her fingers with a self-satisfied grin. “Look what I got off eBay.”
“Octavia,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t get your hopes up too much, and remember she lost her father three months ago, she might not want to hear his heart. She probably just wants to see who it went to.” They don’t know anything other than the woman’s name’s Clarke, when they asked Maya what she was like, all she would tell then is that’s ‘nice, but still grieving’
“I know,” she frowns slightly, “but even if she doesn’t, Gus is obsessed with it, so maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll become a doctor when he’s older and we can have a nice early retirement.”
Bellamy looks over to where Gus is, obviously having got bored of whatever he and Lincoln were doing on the floor and has gone to find his own entertainment. “He’s licking the doorknob again” He tells her frankly.
“Shit! Gus I told you, there’s germs on there!”
Gus probably won’t become a doctor, but it’s alright because he’s adorable, and that will get him further in life. He wrings his hands nervously, she’ll be getting here soon, and he still has no clue what to say to her. He paces the floor as Octavia looks out the window, Lincoln’s moved Gus to the table with some crayons, as long he doesn’t eat them they’ll keep him entertained for a while.
“She’s here” Octavia gasps, Lincoln looks up and gives him a small smile. “Oh shit” She mutters, picking the skin around her nail.
“Oh shit what?” He rushes to the window to see a young girl—no older than Octavia really—getting out of a shiny red car that probably cost more than his house was worth. She takes a bouquet of flowers out the passenger side and walks towards the house, pausing to look up at it—the peeling paint and outdated windows that barely kept them warm throughout the winter.
“I didn’t expect her to be so young.”
Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut, he hadn’t known what to expect, but he’d hoped they were older. Hoped whoever this heart belonged to had lived a good life before him.
The doorbell rings, and Octavia moves at lightning pace to answer it. He moves away from the window, not wanting it to look so obvious he was watching her arrive.
“Hi,” He heard his sister greet from the front door, a bit loud and enthusiastic, how she always gets when she’s nervous. “I’m Octavia, Bellamy’s sister.”
“Clarke,” she introduces quietly, he watches as she slipped in next to Octavia, handing over the flowers. “These are for you” she smiles kindly, and Bellamy’s suddenly blown away by her, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Her long blonde hair falls onto a light pink sweater that was probably meant to look casual, but probably cost more than his months wages. Her blue eyes meet his and they’re so familiar it makes his chest ache, he sees them in his dreams, the flashes of blonde hair that are the exact shade of hers.
“I’m Bellamy,” He nods at her, still horribly unsure if this was the right decision. She’s staring at him with such a sad look that it takes everything he has in him to not to cry. This is what he was afraid of, this look right here, that he’s causing someone more sadness than they already have. “I erm – I’ve got – ”
“It’s okay,” She assures him with a slight smile, he can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling right now and he’s babbling like an idiot over here. “I know.”
He lets out a breath, of course Maya told her his name. He wonders how much else she knows, whether it’s the bare minimum like him, or if Maya was more lenient with letting out his information.
“Take a seat, please” he gestures to the sofa, he takes the armchair, not wanting to sit too close and make her uncomfortable.
“Thank you,” she nods and sits down lightly, clasping her hands in her lap. She doesn’t seem to know where to look, this must be as uncomfortable for her and it is for him. “How are you feeling? After the surgery and everything; I can’t imagine it was an easy recovery.”
He shakes head, she’s lost her father and he’s taken his heart but she’s asking how he’s feeling. “Honestly, I’ve never felt better,” He smiles, and she nods, looking relieved. “I’ve always had a bad heart, since I was born I can’t remember ever feeling well. Now I can actually live.”
There’s a look on her face he couldn’t quite describe, a mixture of sadness and pride. “Good, I’m really happy you’re feeling better.”
How awful must it be for her? To sit across from the man who’s only alive because her father died? To hear how well he was doing when her fathers grave hasn’t even grown over yet.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Octavia asks softly, putting the flowers in a vase.
“Just some tea, thank you,” Clarke smiles,
“What kind? We have Lemon, Green, Peppermint, Jasmine, Raspberry, Mango, Apple and Earl Grey”
Clarke raised her eyebrow and smirks a little. “Raspberry sounds really nice actually, thank you”
“Coming right up” Octavia hops off to the kitchen, Bellamy rolls his eyes. She could act a bit less enthusiastic.
“Sorry,” Bellamy winces, “she’s been very excited about you coming.”
“It’s alright, I’d be excited too.”
“I’m sorry though,” he murmurs, catching her eyes. They’re so painfully sad and familiar. “About your dad. But please know we’re so, so grateful, I don’t think I’d be here today without a new heart, and I know it doesn’t ease your pain but we wanted to let you know how much this means to us.”
She pauses, looking down at her hands. “A few weeks before he died, my dad and I were watching TV at my apartment, some stupid medical show we weren’t allowed to watch at my moms house—she’s a doctor and she gets really pissed off when she watches them so we would watch them at my place. There was an episode about someone refusing to give their organs and my dad turned to me when it was over and told me that when he dies he wants everything to go, he didn’t want a single usable organ to stay in his body. He wanted to give life to someone who could carry on living after he’d gone.” A tear runs down her cheek as she looks over him. Octavia puts her tea on the coffee table and sits next to her, taking her hand. “I’m glad it went to you, I’m glad you finally feel healthy after not knowing what it feels like. He’d have loved that.”
Bellamy has to look away to stop himself from crying, though Octavia’s not exactly shy about hiding her tears. He thinks about closure, and Maya was right, he feels better knowing his family was happy it went to him. There’s so much he wants to say to her, but he can’t make the words form.
“Thank you,” He whispers, unable to stop the tear from trickling out his eye. He puts a hand to his chest “Do you want to feel?”
She nods, coming to sit on the arm of the chair next to him as he unbuttoned his shirt. She stares at the scar down his chest, he’d been in surgery over five hours and came out with a new lease of life and a scar to remind him. She hesitantly put her hand over his heart, it beats a little faster and harder at the contact from her. Did this heart know who she was? Or was that his own reaction to her?
She half laughs, half sobs as she feels his heartbeat—her fathers heart under her palm. Bellamy places his hand over hers, keeping them both grounded. Octavia hands her the stethoscope, Clarke stares at it, wide eyed and unsure. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he assured her, but she shakes her head.
“No, I do—it's just, I never got the chance to hear it. All the counsellors and support groups tell you to get a recording of the heartbeat before they die but I never got to hear it, it happened too fast.”
Bellamy nods and drops his hand from hers so she can put the stethoscope on his chest. The stethoscopes cold, but he doesn’t mind. He just watches Clarkes slow, amazed smile, contradicted by the tears tracks staining her ivory skin.
It’s easy for him to sit here with his heart beating strongly and the rest of his life ahead of him, but for her, it’s never going to be the same. It may be her fathers heart, but it’s not him.
“It’s beautiful,” She whispers, reaching to squeeze his hand. “Thank you” she sits back on the sofa next to Octavia, who hands her a tissue.
“What was he like?” Octavia asks, and Bellamy’s grateful that she did, because as much as he wants to know, he can’t bring himself to ask, it seems too personal.
“He was just the best,” she says with a happier smile. It lights up her face and suddenly he’s blown away by her. “He was a completely chaotic lawful person, he’d always do the right thing even if it wasn’t always the best thing. He was an amazing father, he was always patient and kind, he told the worst jokes but they were still funny in such a bad way. He worked the hardest but still always had time for me. My best friend—Wells, his dad was pretty absent, my dad didn’t even think twice about treating him as his own son. Everyone who met him loved him. He’s so missed, but I can take some comfort in knowing his death wasn’t meaningless.”
There’s something so soft about the way she speaks of him, something so tragic. He’s never had a father, and from what he heard from his mother he didn’t want to. But fathers like this make him envious of what he could have had.
“What was his name?” Bellamy asks quietly, seeming to pull Clarke out of her own thoughts.
“Jake. Jake Griffin”
“It’s a good name,” Bellamy says with a half laugh, Clarke laughs too with a nod.
Gus comes barrelling in then, climbing up onto the armchair and throwing his arms around Bellamy’s neck. Lincoln gives him an apologetic smile and introduces himself to Clarke.
“Uncle Bell,” Gus whispers, though it’s probably a bit too loud to be considered private.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Daddy said that girls sad because her daddy died and gave you his heart so you can get better.”
Bellamy smiles and hugs him a little tighter. Lincoln had explained it better than he ever could have.
“Yeah that’s what happened.’
“I made her a picture, to make her happy again.”
“That’s really kind of you, maybe you should go give it to her”
Gus pulls back and looks unsure, he’s holding the picture carefully still, despite it being behind Bellamy’s head. He nods, but still he’s a bit unsure. “It’s alright, she’s really nice,” Bellamy assured him, and that was enough to make him jump down and go to Clarke.
“Hi” Clarke smiles at him, the way you do at children, gentle and reassuring and a bit kinder than you would at an adult. “What’s your name?”
“Augustus” Gus says proudly, it had taken him so long to learn his own name, they were worried he’d call himself Gus forever. “My daddy said you were sad because your daddy gave Uncle Bell his heart but he died”
Clarke nods, a little sad but she doesn’t let it show to Gus. “That’s right, but if it made your Uncle better so I’m not as sad.”
Gus thinks about that for a moment, then nods as if it confirmed some theory he had in his head. “I made you this picture, to make you happy again” He thrusts the piece of paper into Clarkes hands, and Bellamy cranes his head so he can see what Gus has made.
Who he thinks is supposed to be him is standing proud holding a big red heart. Bellamy’s smiling in the picture, a great big curved red line that was too big for his face. He can’t remember the last time he smiled that big. Maybe it was about time he started to. Thank you was written in Gus’s messy scrawl on the other side of the page, Bellamy feels his heart swell in pride.
He looks up to Clarke, who had tears in her eyes and a sad smile. “I love it” She whispered “Thank you so much Augustus. I’ll hang it up with the rest of my pictures at home.”
Gus smiles, satisfied with her response and skips back off to the kitchen to carry on with his drawing.
“He’s lovely,” She says to Octavia, who grins proudly in response. “I should get going though, I don’t want to take up anymore of your Saturday.”
“Oh, you’re no bother, really” Octavia smiles warmly at her.
“Even so, I’m sure you want to both get on with your lives. But thank you, I’m so grateful that you let me come and see you,” she smiles shyly at Bellamy, “and hear his—your heartbeat. I never thought I’d ever do that.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Bellamy nods, standing with her. “And thank you, I said it before but truly, we couldn’t be more grateful to you and your family for what you’ve given us.”
“Actually, there’s something we wanted to ask you,” Octavia says nervously as they reach the door. “Bellamy was told he’d never reach thirty—he very nearly didn’t, but it's his thirtieth birthday in July and we’d love for you to be there.”
Clarke looks to the floor, brows furrowed. “I appreciate the thought, I really do – but I’ll think about it, okay?”
They can’t ask for more than her to think about it, but Bellamy understands why she wouldn’t want to go. She probably doesn’t want to see him celebrating a birthday when she’ll never get to do that with her dad again.
Clarke looks at Bellamy one last time, tears in her eyes and smiles. “I’m happy it went to you. I’m happy you can finally live a proper life. Please don’t think of it as my father's heart, it's yours now. Make sure you make the most of it.”
All he can do is nod at her. She hugs Octavia, then she’s gone, walking down the old creaky steps to her car.
Octavia turns to go back in, but Bellamy watches as she slides into the car and puts her head in her hands, shoulders shaking as she sobs. He aches to go to her, but would he make it better or worse? She sits up then, wiping her eyes and pushing her hair back.
The engine starts and she’s gone. It’s time to live his life, for Jake Griffin, for himself.
It was time to try and forget the girl with golden hair and beautiful Blue eyes.