Chapter Text
When Clarke awoke she was lying in a white hospital room on a white bed with white sheets and a tan hand grasping hers. She moved to sit up and look at her foreign surroundings, only to be greeted by an aching pain in her chest and a roaring headache. Sinking her head back into the covers, she makes do with her limited view. The next thing she noticed was that the owner of the hand happened to be one very tired Bellamy Blake.
Even lying nearly supine on the color-bleached hospital bed, she could make out dark circles mapping his cheeks and a haunted look in his deep, brown eyes. There was something else in those dark orbs as well, a look she had only seen pointed at Octavia. His hair was more rumpled than usual and his brow was creased with worry, but when he looked up at her for the first time since she had woken, the creases marring his features dissolved into open relief. Even dead tired, he was still oddly beautiful.
"Bellamy? " Clarke croaked, surprise clouding her tone.
"Clarke " he sighed in return. In a moment his face shifted again. He now seemed to be holding back a flood of words.
" Clarke." He started again, gentler this time. "The doctors said there might be some memory loss from " his voice cracked, "from the accident. You suffered some head trauma. How much do you remember, Princess ?" The genuine empathy in his voice struck her. It was so unnatural to hear it directed at her. For the first time ever he had used the term “Princess” without a hint of condescension, malice, or annoyance. Wow... it must have been one hell of an accident to make Bellamy Blake give a shit, she thought, as she registered the content of his words.
" I - what accident?” Alarm immediately rose in her throat, constricting her. “Where's Octavia? And Finn? And my mom? Did you tell-” she paused, trying not to sound so accusatory when he was actually trying to be nice for once. “Do they know I'm here?" she amended. She noted that he froze when she mentioned Finn.
"Finn?” He started, immediately jolted by surprise, “Why would you- " here he paused, his eyes widening momentarily in understanding, followed in quick succession by fear, pity, and utter, total devastation. Clarke was at a loss when trying to make sense of Bellamy's emotions. For once, he was actually treating her like a human being, but she wasn't sure that she liked it; it unsettled her. Her thoughts were interrupted by his next abrupt question.
"Clarke what year do you think it is?" Clarke rolled her eyes in annoyance. Just when I thought he was actually being nice, for once.
"Bellamy, stop playing games. I just want to see my mom," she rasped, exhausted by Bellamy's blatant avoidance tactics.
“Clarke, please, just answer the damn question.” Clarke could hear the anger rising in his voice. This is the Blake I know. I can handle this. The tenderness had confused her, but now that she heard the makings of anger in his voice she knew where she stood.
“Listen, Blake, I don't have time for this. I'm in a goddamn hospital bed from some mysterious accident. I'm tired and don't have the energy to argue with you right now. I just want to see my mother, damnit.” As she spoke, she grew continuously more winded, her rant at Bellamy drawing out of her what little energy she still possessed. Exhaustion flooded her, and she sank back deeper into the bed.
She could see the Bellamy looked visibly taken aback by her words, which only served to confuse her more. She shook it off, too tired to give Bellamy any real thought. She just wanted to see her mother, and instead she was stuck with Bellamy Blake, for fuck's sake. She watched him carefully again as he collected himself. It was another minute before he spoke.
“Clarke, the doctors said you might have memory loss,” Bellamy intoned carefully. His voice was controlled and even, despite the harshness of his earlier words. “Please, Clarke, I just need to know that you know what year it is.” He spoke slowly and deliberately once more. She scoffed at this. This was ridiculous. Another one of Bellamy's mind games.
“I'm fine Bellamy.” She sighed. When his face didn't relax, she answered the question with an accompanying eye roll. “It's 2010, I'm in med school at Columbia. Happy? Now how about my damn mother, please?” She couldn't help the sarcasm from sneaking into her voice. Clarke searched his face, looking for some signal of emotion. She found nothing. Instead she saw his jaw clench ever so slightly and his eyes harden minutely. After a moment he stood up stiffly.
“I'll go get your mother,” the deadness in his tone scared her more than anything. It almost made her feel sorry for him.
And as he stood up, she caught the gleam of a golden band on his left forefinger that had been previously hidden under her own hand.
“You're married,” she stated dryly, all the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. She felt a pang in her chest, as if the universe were playing a cosmic joke on her. “You're married, and it would have taken years for you to be that close to a woman. It's - it's not 2010 is it? It can't be.” His pressed lips and haunted look confirmed her suspicions. “It's been years, hasn't it? I'm missing years.” She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. “And Finn, we're not together anymore, are we? And my mom? She's – Oh god, she's dead isn't she?” The tears were flowing freely now, and her words were stumbling over each other in a rush to get out. “She's dead, and I won't even remember saying goodbye. That's why she's not here, isn't it?” The thought of losing another parent left a hole in her chest that was a fresh iteration of the familiar. She could already feel the bile rising in her throat.
“Oh God no, Clarke. You're mother's alive,” the words were out of his mouth quickly, as though he only wanted to reassure her. It worked. “At least I can give you some good news today.” Clarke almost cracked a smile at that, her relief overwhelming her. He sat back down beside her bed again, and took her hand in his once more. “Clarke, I know this is a lot to take in. I'm really sorry about this.”
“Bellamy, please, just – at least tell me what year it is?” The fear and confusion manifested themselves in her pleading tone that compelled Bellamy to be honest with her. He looked at her deeply, softly, his eyes containing a slew of emotions that Clarke was in no state to interpret.
“2015. It's 2015, Clarke. And to answer your question, yes, you and Finn are broken up now. He was never good enough for you, anyway. I know it's hard, but I think you're a lot happier now than you were in 2010, if it's any consolation.” He stood up to go. “I'll send Octavia and your mom in. They're waiting outside. They thought it would be good if – well, never mind.” He turned to leave, giving her hand a final squeeze as he stood. When he was at the door, she called him back softly.
“Bellamy?”
“Yes, Princess?”
“I- uh- just congratulations, I guess. On the wedding, you know. And – uh – I hope you're happy. She must be a beautiful woman.” She figured that just this once she could afford to be nice to Bellamy Blake. Needless to say, the words did not come naturally to her.
He smiled as a small chuckle escaped his lips. “Oh yeah, she's a real piece.” Clarke almost smiled again. I'm actually happy around Bellamy, for once. The thought surprised her.
“Well, I'm sure it was a beautiful ceremony; I'm sorry I can't remember it. You'll have to show me pictures sometime. I'm sure Octavia took tons.” She smiled at the thought of Octavia photographing everything in sight.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “She wouldn't put the camera down. It was really just a small affair though. Friends and family.” Clarke nods, another thought coming to mind that she voices immediately.
“I have to say, I never thought I'd see a married Bellamy Blake,” she says wryly. At this he smiles slowly, the grin spreading across his lips little by little, culminating in the soft and slow nature of his reply.
“It just took the right woman.”