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Looking at the sky, Bellamy grimaced. He tuned out his sister’s endless chatter and Lincoln’s brief, quiet responses as he noted the gathering storm clouds, nose twitching at the distinctive, sharp smell in the air that promised rain.
“We should get everyone inside,” he interrupted, glancing up again before turning to the other two.
Lincoln hid a smile when Octavia rolled her eyes and argued, “You predict a few storms, and suddenly you’re a weatherman. Seriously, Bell, just because—”
A faint roll of thunder in the distance cut her off, and she flicked a piece of bark peeled off from her stool at him. He just winked at her in response and gloated, “Told you.”
The yard came to life as Arkers scrambled to secure the camp for the impending downpour. Spring came with a vengeance on the ground, apparently, if the recent series of severe thunderstorms were anything to go by. The first one had made Bellamy’s heart pound in excitement and little bit of fear, because he had dealt with rain before but not the deafening crashes and blinding flashes. It didn’t help that his thoughts, instead of focusing on the beauty of the storm or the safety of his people, drifted to Clarke and if she was staying safe and dry, wherever she was. He didn’t think of her as much anymore, because time goes by and all that, but the feel of rain on his skin always took him back to that first day on the ground, when Clarke had been nothing but a privileged irritation to him, reminding him just how much had changed since then.
As a chill descended in the air, Bellamy realized Octavia and Lincoln had left him. They were across the way helping to move the wood being prepped for the next batch of cabins into dry shelter. Standing, he surveyed the yard, monitoring the preparations and smiling when he realized they were going off without a hitch. About damn time things went according to plan, he thought tiredly.
Drops started falling in an uneven rhythm, slow and infrequent at first. As a few hit his cheek, Bellamy watched the last of his people dart into the Ark. Vaguely he heard his sister calling for him, so he turned to go in, glancing one last time at the fence line to make sure nobody had been left behind.
A shadow emerging from the forest stopped him in his tracks. The looming clouds and increasing drizzle had muted even the greenest of trees to grey, and the figure walking towards the camp was no different, just a small drab smudge against the landscape, except for the golden halo that shone brightly through the stormy haze.
It couldn’t be, not after all these months, but there Clarke was, in the middle of a damn thunderstorm, walking back along the same path she had left on, looking like not even a day had gone by. Bellamy didn’t realize he had started moving, but the squelching sound of his boots pounding into the mud filled his ears as the rain steadily increased. With a rough shove, he shouldered the gate open and jogged to meet her, almost at the exact spot where he had seen her last.
He slowed as he approached, drinking in the sight of her. There were a few new cuts on her face, and scars where the old ones had been. Her hair was longer, tied back away from her face. Shadows no longer haunted her eyes though, which were almost as clear as they had been that first day on the ground, that momentous day when Bellamy had had his first taste of rain and freedom.
“Hey,” she said, voice small and quiet but no less capable of commanding his full attention.
“Hey,” he responded, itching to pull her into an embrace. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead, reminding himself she might not be whole, healed, whatever enough for him to go that far.
Not taking her eyes off of him, she asked, “How about that drink?” The worried lines on her forehead betrayed her steady smile and confident tone.
“Depends,” Bellamy replied slowly, even as it pained him to see the resigned hurt rise in her eyes. “Are you here to stay?”
Clarke closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before whispering. “I’m ready, Bell. I’m home.”
Bellamy reached out and pulled her to him, clutching at her with a need he had been suppressing for far too long. She let out an unsteady laugh which caught at the end, her breath hitching as she pressed her face into his chest. Fisting her hands into his shirt, she clutched back, and a weight lifted as he felt her warmth seep into him. As the storm poured down around them, soaking them to the bone, Bellamy smiled, because while he would always taste freedom when it rained, he now had something else to remember when the thunder rolled and the lightening cracked, something that was much more precious to him: peace.