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For the last two years, Bellamy had been tracking the infamous Clarke Griffin, heist after heist, clue after clue, lead after lead - but in the end, her trail always went stone cold leaving him with nothing.
The only times she was ever found, was when she wanted to be found. (And even in that, he could never get her into hand cuffs. He has chased her, on foot, by car, by helicopter — hell, even by fucking boat one time and still, he would always go back to the bureau empty handed along with a busted ego.) It was all a game to her, she loved the thrill of the chase. And she most of all, loved to get under FBI Special Agent Bellamy Blakes skin.
Clarke was practically untouchable. Even with her face plastered on the news, on the wanted lists in police precincts around the country, she still managed to keep herself hidden, and still fucking managed to get past security cameras and steal millions of dollars worth of artifacts in museums. She was brilliant, Bellamy hated to admit, but he was determined to put her away.
She has became almost an obsession of his, obsessed to prove to everyone and himself he could catch her when no one else could. He could heal his already hurting ego and watch as she was sentenced her tI’ve in prison. Though a part of him, would take more satisfaction in seeing her grin fall from her face when he outsmarted her. Like she did him so many times before.
Clarke — she was a real piece of work. She worked a lone, (as far as he knew, there was no indications of a partner) but had her connections. Criminals that you never even knew existed were at her disposal, and it was the fact that they wouldn't give her up when they were caught no matter the deal the DA presented is what drove Bellamy mad. Maybe they kept quiet out of respect and loyalty, or what he believes is fear. She has never killed anyone — at least from what they have seen so far — but it didn't mean she was incapable of it.
Her brilliance, strategy and determination is what made her truly dangerous. She once put a guard to sleep by the use of one finger. With her medical background she knows the pressure points to make a grown man fall unconscious within seconds and arteries that could kill them in minutes. One thing Bellamy always emphasized to other units when they are in pursuit was to not underestimate her.
She may be small, innocent looking like Aphrodite the goddess of beauty with her halo of blond hair and intense yet breathtaking blue eyes, but underneath, she was Athena, the goddess of war.
Clarke was street smart, influential, manipulative, and a god damn good actress at that. She had gone under so many different names and disguises Bellamy could make pages and pages of them.
To say Bellamy was invested in taking down Clarke Griffin was an understatement, she practically has taken over Bellamys life.
Police Cheif Kane has thought about taking Bellamy off the case numerous times, even argued it, but its reminded to him that he knows most about Griffin. Hes the only one that gets in arms reach of her, and more than half the reason is because she lets him.
Clarke has an odd relationship and attitude towards Bellamy. Its playful, teasing — she likes to taunt him. Like her way of saying 'Im still here, and you're over there, ha!' and Bellamy part takes in her little game, even if he doesn't want to. (But he does, because he really fucking wants to see her face when she puts her wrists in hand cuffs)
Another thing that Bellamy neglects to bring up, is that its more than personal for Bellamy, it always has been since the moment Clarke tricked Bellamy into thinking she was someone she wasn't those years ago, because Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin had something that Bellamy despised every time the memories rushed back. History.
How was he supposed to know that Clarke posed as his 'new' FBI psychiatrist? It was the fucking FBI, why would he have to worry about doing background checks, to see if she really was who she said? That’s not his damn job. Like Bellamy has said before, Clarke was good at acting. She knew what she was doing, and what she was talking about so Bellamy had no reason to question or suspect her. It was 'her job' to ask about cases, and how he's feeling and all this bullshit that Bellamy feels his blood boil when he thinks back to it. He hasn't seen a psychiatrist since the incident.
At that time, Clarke was only beginning her heists and there was no evidence that could lead to who she was, or hell even what she looked like. Bellamy was on the case, and Clarke used him, used the information she got from him to continue her work, even throw him off her trail. If they were close, she'd know, if they were planning something, she'd know, pretty much anything Bellamy knew — Clarke knew. It was worse when they started seeing each other after his sessions came to an end.
Bellamy was blind to it all. He was blind to being played by the person he was sleeping with and also trying to hunt down. If it wasn't for that one slip up of a strand of her hair, he wouldn't of found out probably until he was in too deep in his feelings for the blonde to do anything about it. (maybe thats why she did it, he wondered too often then he should. Because, it was true, if he fell in love with her, which he knew he very much could of, Bellamy would of been battling himself to either let her go, or put her in jail. But he knew, which one he would choose. He hated himself for it.)
The bureau found out sooner rather then later, and he was on leave for months suspected for aiding a criminal. He almost lost his job, and all his colleagues has ill thoughts of him, another reason to hate Clarke Griffin even more. She used him, and practically ruined his reputation, him and his trust for women. (except his sister, Octavia.) The drive to catch Clarke was stronger then ever, wanting to prove to all the agents that he wasn't a mole, or a dirty agent.
He would catch her, sooner or later, he knew it. And he wouldn't give up until he did.
That day had finally come, after two fucking years, he finally had Clarke right where he wanted her.
They were in Berlin. Bellamy had caught a few leads, and flown down in hopes to follow her trail before it went cold again. It was a success. After three days, there she was, on the other end of his gun, his finger playing on the trigger as she stood with her hands up. The look on her face wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be. She looked tired, that usual fight in her didn’t burn as bright as before. Maybe he’s not the only one sick and tired of endless running, and mind games.
"Move, and I shoot." He threatened, and she gave him an unimpressed look, snorting to herself like she didn’t believe him. He wanted to reach for his cuffs, but he didn't want to blink in case she just disappeared like he had numerous times before. She looked different, her hair was longer, maybe even lighter. Her pale cheeks were in that same usual pink tint, her eyes bright against the dim lighting of the bathroom in the small dingey restaurant. The window behind her was open which meant she was planning on climbing through before Bellamy stopped and intervened.
"You're not going to shoot me, Agent Blake." she stated like a simple fact.
Bellamy huffed, "Try me, princess. Nothing, and I mean nothings going to stop me from putting you in handcuffs."
She chuckled, "You know, a few years ago I would of found that to be a major turn on. Still sort of do." she bit her lip, taking a step forward, "Remember when we used to—"
I don't want to remember.
He didn't flinch, but his gun only raised more as a warning for her to come any closer. She ceases, her eyes cautiously on the barrel in her face. “Past is done, Clarke. This ends today, no more running, no more games." He reached behind him for his cuffs, before tossing them to her feet with a clunk against the tiled bathroom floor. "Put those on, slowly — you try anything; you get a bullet in the leg. Don't test me." he warned.
She still had her hands up, her eyes flashing in annoyance. "Is this really necessary I mean, come on Bellamy, all I did was take some expensive and not to mention fairly ugly paper machete objects—"
"Stole, you stole them. Last time I checked, stealing was against the law. They weren't yours to take. Now put the cuffs on, I want to enjoy reading you your Miranda rights—“
"Well they weren't theirs either!" she snapped, something unfamiliar filling her eyes that Bellamy never seen on Clarke Griffin — anger. There was no amusement, her coy grin that was usually present on her face was no where in sight. She almost seemed defeated as she sighed, letting down the act she had put up around him.
"You don't get why I do this do you? You feds are so god damn caught up in trying to catch me, that you never looked into why I steal in the first place."
Bellamy adjusted his hand on his gun, chuckling bitterly. "I thought the answer was pretty damn clear, princess. Money. Thats always been your motive-"
"Like hell it was!" she raged, her hands finally falling. "Bellamy, I grew up pretty well off. You’ve read about that in my file, so I’m sure you understand I was, to put it bluntly, pretty fucking rich. Especially after I got my fathers inheritance. I don’t need or want money, Bellamy. Thats not the reason I got into this job. And my job wasn't stealing and getting a reward in return, my job was to steal back what didn't belong to these jack asses in the first place, and return it to the rightful owners. My reward wasn't the money, it was the looks on those peoples faces when they got back some of their most precious possessions and family airlooms. Thats my job, Agent Blake."
He stared at her in silence, mauling over what she was saying.
She's trying to manipulate you again.
She's lying, thats all she does is lie, don't listen to her.
She's just trying to save her own ass.
He shook his head firmly, "Enough with the lies Clarke and put the fucking handcuffs on. I won't ask you again." he stood straighter, and the blue hues in her eyes contained an emotion he couldn't decipher. (Disappointment? Hurt? Desperation?)
She sighed again, slowly leaning down to pick up the clanking medal. "I guess I can't blame you for that, I did lie, a lot." she huffed a pathetic excuse of a laugh, "So, I get why you won't trust me." she clicked one onto her wrist, working on the other. "I hurt you, I used you. And I know that was wrong, but you have to understand—"
"You're a criminal Clarke, and its my job to put criminals into jail. Thats all I need to understand." he interrupted, coldly.
He watched as the other slowly clicked onto her small wrist, and a sense of pride ignited into his chest.
She looked up to him, and there it was —the look of sad defeat he had been waiting two years for. But it wasn't as satisfying as he imagined, or wished.
"Not really a good look on me, is it?" she playfully, gestured down to the cuffs a small forced smile on her pink lips.
Bellamy placed his lips in a firm line, he wished it never had to come to this. He put his gun back in its holster. "You'll look better behind bars." He went behind her, taking a hold of her arm reading her Miranda rights while leading her out with eyes following their every move.
+
They were in the back seat of a cab as they drove to Bellamys hotel. He had called HQ letting them now he had Clarke Griffin into custody and that they were taking the first plane back home which was in less then an hour.
It was nothing but silence and the staticy radio of the driver while he lightly hummed to the songs. Clarke and Bellamy were both looking out their windows as lights lit up the lovley city. It was odd, being in the same space as Clarke without thinking she was getting away, or that she had some plan up her sleeve. She was done, he got her — but why did he feel like she was still somehow so far away?
His mind drifted back to their conversation in the bathroom, lets say she was telling the truth - that would mean that even though Clarke was still committing a crime, she was doing it selflessly. It would mean that Clarke wasn't as horrible as she may of lead on. But there were so many things he didn't understand, so many things that didn't add up. No, no, this is what she wants. Doubts, she wanted him to think about bringing her in so he could let her go but that wasn't going to happen. He has her, and he was not letting her out of his sight.
"Why'd you do it?" Bellamy suddenly demended, probably regretfully, turning his head to look at the blonde. Her eyebrows furrowed at his question and he continued. "Why did you bring me into this, why did you play me and string me along all these years. You could done this to anyone, and you chose me. Why?" his brown eyes were hard as ice, his voice commanding yet somehow — he felt vulnerable. And he fucking hated it.
Clarke in took her bottom lip into her mouth, and her eyes drifted forward in thought. She couldn't even look at him, while saying it. "At first, it was information. I needed to know what you knew, about me, and the heists. From what I read before I made the alias, you were a good agent. You were smart, compassionate — a bit rough around the edges but you knew what you were doing. When your mind was set, there was no turning back." she licked her lips, "You could have stopped these people from taking more, stopped others from doing the same but instead I had to do your job for you."
Bellamy shook his head, "You should have told someone, Clarke. Gone to the authorities or—“
She huffed, "You didn't think I tried that? Of course I did, for a while we almost had an investigation until one day it suddenly dropped." she shook her head at the thought, "Those damn assholes bought the detective off, destroyed any evidence that could lead back to them, and there was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do, so we were on our own."
Bellamy stared at her, and almost felt shame because of the fact there was a dirty cop that was bribed. Nothing angered him more. It made sense that there wasn't anything on these people, they'd be practically ghosts. Without the right evidence, there won't be a conviction. Bellamy then registered what she said, "We?" he questioned, skeptically.
She sighed, moving a strand of blonde hair from her face while the metal of the handcuffs clanked gently against one another. "My father." her saddened eyes looked at Bellamy, "He was the reason I really got into all this. I helped him get funds going, raise awareness, protest at museums, even get police involved time and time again — and you wanna know what happened?" she turned her head to look at him, tears threatening to verge. "He was murdered."
He remembered reading about her fathers death in her file, (Which explained to him why she turned into a criminal; her fathers death was her stresser.) but he didn't remember anything about a murder. He shook his head, "He wasn't murdered, it was a car accident. No evidence of fowl play was present."
She laughed clinically, "Right, I'm going to totally believe that, after what I've seen. It was a cover up. " she sighed, shutting her eyes a moment to prepare herself. "The night before a charity fund that my father was on the way of attending, he was threatened if he continued our 'charade' then he would end up in the ground. I wanted to immediately stop after that but he still wanted to, actually it made him want to do it more. He called them cowards, and he said to me 'Clarke, if we don't fight for this, no one will' and that was the last I saw him before he was in the morgue waiting to be identified." She swallowed back tears, blinking profusely in hopes to keep them at bay but failed. Bellamy could see water filling at the corners. "And don't you dare call that a coincidence, because it was anything but that."
She took a deep breath, "It was after his death I realized I had to take things into my own hands, and I did." she looked down to her hand cuffed hands, playing with her fingers. "I didn't — I didn't mean to involve you like you are now. It was just supposed to be temporary, and then.." she sighed, tilting her head back in what seemed frustration. "And then you had to be all — all perfect and sweet, and protective and — I just — I liked you, I liked you a lot. And it was because I liked you that I.. I almost stopped. I liked who I was when I was with you, and even if it wasn't my real name, or my real job, I wished it was." She blinked back more tears, but one stray still fell down the side of her cheek which she quickly wiped away.
Bellamy remained in silence. Stone silence, a lump forming in his throat the more she talked. His mind was going in all sorts of directions — she was lying — she had to be. He tried to line up her storys to catch her in the act, but to no prevail.
In his mind, he made her a lot worse then she was. In his mind, she was the bad guy — but was she really? It was so easy to make her evil, all the games she played, all the lies she told — it was easy to hate her, but hearing all this — it made it hard to do either.
Clarke shook her head, more to herself, "I should of let you go, as soon as my cover was blown I should of left you — us — behind. But, a part of me wouldn't because you were the closest person I had since my father died, and I — I didn't want to lose you too." she brought her hand up to wipe at her wet eyes, "And I shouldn't of treated this, like a game, that was wrong — my father would be disappointed in me for that. But — it was the only way I could stay close to you, it was the only way I could still feel like you were in my life as childish as that sounds."
She sighed, "I know I have done a lot of wrong, and I don't deserve forgiveness for it, but I know what I have done right. And that was giving those families back what those people stole away, like they stole away my father.. I just wish you would have used all your energy on hunting me, to hunt the people who killed my father and stole away for greed, like you thought I was. " that hit Bellamy hard in the gut. Her eyes were back on the window but Bellamys were on nothing but her profile.
He felt guilt, sorrow, anger, frustration, confusion, admiration; all of these because of one question that Bellamy was regretting in asking. He shouldn't have because now he knows, and now he feels wrong. He feels wrong looking at her in handcuffs because it shouldn't be her, it should be the people who murdered her father and got away with it. It should be the thief's that Clarke stole from. God damn it, he should have seen all this but his rage for wanting revenge on Clarke Griffin blinded him.
It took everything in him not to —apologize, because once he did that it was all over for him.
And he has nothing to be sorry for.
He’s just doing his job.
So he said nothing, and it was quiet the whole rest of the car ride except for the low hum of the radio.
+
Bellamy was driving now, they were on there way to the airport to get onto nexr flight to bring back Clarke. She had been silent the entire time, not one word was exchanged. She didn't try to sweet talk him out of it, tease him, or even insult him. She was mute, and her mouth didn't once tilt up into that smile he got himself to hate. (and now, he actually misses it. He misses her retorts, and her taunting, he misses her voice in general and god damn he can't believe he's thinking it.)
They were driving on an empty road, no cars in sight. Not that there would be at this time of night, it was almost 2 in the morning and Bellamy could feel his body fighting off the lack of sleep he's had these past three days.
He was exhausted, physically and emotionally.
And so was Clarke.
Bellamy glanced at her a few times in the mirror, only to see her eyes empty and trained on what was in front of her, lost in her own thoughts, regrets and what her future will hold. She knew it was over, her days were numbered and she would be spending the rest of her life in a prison cell. (She kept mentally saying how sorry she was to her father, she failed him, she failed everyone - and she failed herself.)
He bit the inside of his cheek, and forced himself not to initiate any kind of conversation though the silence was driving him mad. Why did he care? why the fuck did he care, dammit? Why couldn't he fucking stop? Why couldn't he just hate Clarke Griffin plain and simple like he did yesterday. Where did all that hate go? Its just — gone, and now replaced with self doubt and sympathy.
"Bellamy," Clarke finally said and he turned his head to look at her so fast he could of given himself whiplash. He slowed down, though again there was nothing and no one on the road to pay attention to anyway.
She didn't seem to notice his urgency, or maybe she just didn't care. "I need you to promise me you'll try to investigate my fathers death, I know that you owe me nothing, and I have no place to ask such a thing but if you find out who killed my father, you'll find out whose been smuggling these stolen pieces to museums. You can stop all this, and put my fathers killers behind bars once and for all. You can give those family's things that mean more than the world to them, trust me, the feeling you get after you see their faces will be better then you watching me placed behind bars.. Just try, please?"
Her eyes were pleading as she stared at Bellamy, probably hoping with everything in her that he would atleast think about it.
The fact was, Bellamy could think about it all he wanted, and even if he decided to try to open up an investigation, it wouldn't stick. Bellamy knew Cheif Kane, and he knew that the last thing he wants is to waste his time on this. There are serial killers out there, and once Clarke was handed off this case would be closed only to open a new one. Besides, there wasn't any evidence other than what Clarke has told him. It was a hopeless cause.
But he would still try.
He hesitantly nodded, and Clarke breathed out sitting back in her chair. "Thank you." she muttered quietly.
Bellamy gripped the steering wheel tightly, and he felt himself fill up in frustration.
Don't do it, don't you fucking do it Bellamy.
He lasted a minute before breathing out sharply, striking the wheel making Clarke jump. "God damn it!" he pulled the car over, a bit harshly with the wheels scraping against the dirt.
He opened the car door hopping out, storming over to Clarkes side, swinging the door open with her eyes wide in fear as she watched him.
He reached for her and she flinched shutting her eyes waiting for whatever was going to happen, (which kind of hurt, he would never harm Clarke, even in the years he’s chased her he’s never actually injured her) but instead she felt him tinkering with her handcuffs. There was a satisfying click and they fell off her wrists into his grasp. She stared at the heavy metal in confusion and Bellamy was taking a hold of her arm pulling her out of the car, his cuffs still in hand.
He was muttering incoherent insults under his breath, with her name laced inbetween words, as he clicked the handcuffs on his own wrists, and finally tossing the key away from him. Clarke stood dumfunded completly lost at what Bellamy was doing.
Bellamy finally turned back to Clarke, and his head nodded into a direction, still looking angry but not at her, at himself. "Go." She just blinked, and he sighed rolling his eyes. "Clarke, leave, take the car and go."
"You're.. You're letting me go?"
"What the hell do you think I’m doing? Why the fuck would I cuff myself? If I let you go, I need to make it look like you escaped, I want to keep my job or atleast whats going to be left of it when I get back." he almost grunted the last sentence because he knows his ass is going to be on the line, he almost had second thoughts but he knew he couldn't do it, he couldn't hand her off like that. He couldn't watch her wrot in a prison cell, he just couldn't.
"Just like that?" He nodded in return, and she looked at him skeptically. "Why?"
He paused, staring at her his eyes mesmerizing her light eyes, even in the darkness they somehow found a way to glow. "Sometimes the wrong things have the best in tensions." he confessed, sincerely.
Clarkes lips tilted up gently.
Bellamys did as well, there was that smile. He forced it to fall after realizing they were just staring at one another in silence. He cleared his throat, "Now get out of here, before I change my mind."
She chuckled softly, "You wouldn't, we both know when your mind is set, theres no turning it back." she teased.
"Doesn't matter, princess. You're still a criminal, and I'm still a Federal Agent. I'm never going to stop chasing you." he grins, and Clarke could tell the meaning has shifted.
She smiles biting her lip, stepping toward him, "What if you catch me again? You gonna let me go?"
He chuckles, "This is a one time thing, don't count on it the next time." he steps towards her closing even more distance between them and its odd, odd not having the urge to pull a gun out and place her in cuffs because now, he's having the urge to do something else.
"Next time?" she teases, leaning more into him her chest brushing against his.
"Consider this.. me just giving you a head start." he smirked, tilting his head looking down at her.
She raised her eyebrows challenging, "Well, in that case." she grinned and in one swoop she stood on her toes to collide their lips together gently. One of her hands were on the back of his neck while the other gripped his leather jacket. Their lips moving in slow sync, and Bellamy cursed to himself since the cuffs restrained him from touching her face, or running his fingers through her hair. (because hell, he realized how much he fucking missed it.)
She pulled away to his reluctance, his eyes in a daze as he stared down at the blonde. She smiled, biting her lip glancing down at his once more, leaning in but this time to his ear. "Catch me if you can." she whispered and before he could comprehend another thought, there was a strong pressure to his neck and everything faded out.
+
When he woke up, he felt groggy, like he just woke up from a 2 year coma. He was on the side of the road where he and Clarke were, the memories of him letting her go rush back. His car was gone, and he knew she was too.
The sky was brighter which meant he had to of been out for hours, he groaned rubbing the part of his neck that felt like it bruised. He tried to remember what happened and how he passed out when he found a sticky note attached to his leather jacket. He slowly sat up, the metal to his cuffs laying against his stomach. His head felt fuzzy as he took it off and read it to himself.
"Had to make it believeable right? See you soon Agent Blake xox C"
He chuckled with a shake of his head, she used one of her pressure point tricks. He never was close enough to find out what it was, but now he knew. He kept in mind not to let her get that close next time. Next time. He was already planning on seeing her again.
But was it really the same? Would he really turn her in? He didn't know, but one thing he knew for sure was this time he really didn't mind having to chase Clarke Griffin, and Clarke really didn't mind if she got caught.
He looked up to the distance down the road where she probably drove off to god knows where, and its the first time he's not desperate to find out, "Goodluck, princess."