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There are sounds, smells and an increasingly searing pain all vying for Clarke's attention, but with each new spiking contraction, the pain wins out every time. She tries to grip onto the rails of the medbay cot that she is on, but the sweat that coats her body makes it impossible. She growls in frustration before a larger, stronger hand takes her fist and rubs it gently, unfurling her trembling fingers.
Bellamy hadn't left her side from the second she felt the first braxton hicks pains three weeks ago, it was only when Miller's dad came to hunt him out for his shift would he leave their cabin. She didn't tell him when she finally went into labour early yesterday morning. She knew that because it was her first, it could go on for days, and she couldn't cope with him fussing. It was only when he came back from his shift eight hours later, to find her squatting on their kitchen floor, holding herself upright with an iron grip on the counter, with a pool of black blood beneath her did he realise why she had been so quiet this morning.
"You need to hold on for me sweetheart, hold on just a little while longer." Abby. Clarke sees her mom slip on a mask, gown and gloves and they lock eyes for a moment before Abby's gaze flickers away, nervously. Through the pain, a wave of nausea rolls through Clarke. That's what her mom wears to surgery. But there isn't anyone else in medical this evening, only her. She isn't having surgery, is she?
Hands come at her, moving her body in directions that it doesn't want to go in. Her legs are stretched out, propped up, covered. She fights them, weakly, with all of her remaining energy, letting out a series of moans to show her discontent. A soft, low voice fills her ears, drowning out the clattering and beeping and shouting from the rest of the room. The voice is so deep, so close to her that she flinches away when breath tickles her ear, causing her to clench her jaw when fresh pain shoots up her spine.
"Clarke, my love, you have to try to calm down. You've done so well, but you need to let your mom take over now, just let her do her work."
She thinks that she isn't a project to be worked on, projects don't feel burning pain when they are touched.
A light is pulled down from above her head, blinding her, but she knows that if she closes her eyes, she might not be able to find the energy to open them again. She can think of nothing but her baby. She knows that she is suffocating in her belly, she's been trying to get her out for hours. It isn't a lack of effort that is stopping her from getting her baby out now, but a lack of control over her own body. The tremors, the numbness, the stabbing pain.
"C...can't f...f...feel my l...legs," she moans through chattering teeth. Turning her head to face Bellamy, she finds that black spots dance across her vision. She can't work out if it is from blood loss, exhaustion or if the image of the nightblood on their kitchen floor is taunting her, but she finds herself crying anew as his face distorts.
"...m...s...so sca...scared..."
"You're okay my love, it's going to be okay." Bellamy leans over, pulling her head to his chest as she cries, forcing her eyes to close. She feels as though she is on a boat in a storm, nauseous, soaking wet and trembling, but at least she doesn't have to watch the anguish on her husband's face. He rocks her, slow and tiny movements, giving her something else to focus on for a minute, allowing her to try and catch her breath in a space that isn't obstructed by pain.
She feels someone take her left wrist, and immediately knows it to be her mother's gentle touch. She pulls away from Bellamy's hold and tries to locate her mother despite her blurred vision. She didn't feel the needle slide into the back of her hand, already fighting the feeling of her skin prickling.
"Mom..." She whispers through clenched teeth.
"Yes, baby? I'm here, Mom's here." Abby barely looks at her daughter, focusing on pushing a loaded syringe into the line.
"Mom..." She tries again, lifting her right arm over her body and touching Abby's hand before the medication takes effect. Finally, Abby looks at her, and there are tears in her eyes. She can't bear seeing her daughter in pain. Clarke squeezes Abby's hand before whispering,
"Save. Her."
The pain recedes and the light dims, and Jackson swims into her vision, placing a mask over her face. The last thing she hears is a loud sob from Bellamy followed by his erratic, gasping breaths as he realises what she is asking. She doesn't want him to panic, she needs him to be strong, to raise their daughter.
Her mother says nothing.
***
"...our bonny bairn is there, Jean,
she is baithe gude and fair, Jean,
the day is aye fair,
in the land o' the leal."
Clarke recognised the old earth song immediately. It is one that she remembers her father singing to her. She never learned all of the verses, and she always laughed at the words that sounded wrong, but she hummed along every time. She didn't know that Bellamy knew it, too.
"You have my whole heart, my sweet, sweet girl. My sweet Aurora." He whispered, before letting out a small chuckle, "Or maybe not all – you'd better leave some for your Mama."
She pried her eyes open one at a time, squinting in the early morning light. She finds that she is slightly elevated, propped up on cushions, with the tube still running into her hand and a cannula snaking across her face.
She had watched many sunrises from the medbay, it was her favourite part of the day. The room was usually silent, and after a night shift, her aching body finally breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that she was about to have two blissful hours curled into her husband before he had to get up for his shift. Of all of the sunrises she had watched, she had never seen one so beautiful as this one.
He must have been listening out for her breathing because within seconds, he turns from his place at the window to look at her.
"Clarke." He smiles weakly, the sigh of relief flooding from his body like water. His eyes are red-rimmed, his hair unkempt and he is still wearing the underclothes of his guard uniform from his shift the day before. Nestled in his arms is their daughter. For a brief moment, Clarke worries that his arms are too big for her, that they might break her, and she tries to sit herself up.
"No no no Clarke, please don't move, you'll tear your stitches." He crosses the room in two strides, lowering himself to perch on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on her thigh. She grunts in pain, and her body suddenly feels like it is underwater, swimming groggily through the discomfort but not quite able to get a firm grasp on it. The blanket in Bellamy's arms whimpers.
"She's...okay?" She finds that her mouth is like sandpaper, and with his free hand, Bellamy helps her hold a cup to her lips while she sips some water. The frustration takes hold of her, and she feels a pang of anger, that she has missed her daughter's first few hours and that Bellamy has already been able to spend time with the little girl, and she hasn't. She moves quickly to put the cup back on the table beside her and, as if he can read her thoughts, he slides the bundle into the crook of her arm.
"Oh." She breathes. The warm weight in her arms moves, her tiny fingers reaching out. Her eyes are scrunched closed, delicate lashes fluttering against her cheek. There is a honey-coloured speckled birthmark on her upper lip, in the same place as Bellamy's scar, the same colour as her downy hair. A tiny foot prods the soft flesh of Clarke's still-rounded belly. She was in there just hours ago. Suddenly, a rush of warm emotion floods her body. Suddenly, she understands her mother. She chokes a little on a sob that catches in her throat, and Bellamy places a hand on her shoulder.
"How are you feeling? Are you in pain? I'm going to call your mom." Bellamy fires at her, but she looks up into his eyes and sees them filled with tears.
"You scared me, Clarke."
She chews her lip, her brow furrowing slightly as she nods at him. She was scared, too.
"C-section?" She asks wearily, knowing that she will be off her feet for weeks. She's in so much simmering pain across her entire body, she can't tell without looking, and she's not quite ready to look at the damage yet.
"No, you had done most of the work, Abby just had to help you along a little, but your blood pressure dropped so low, your body couldn't take any more while you were still awake. You've had to have some stitches." His lip trembles, but then his face softens, "So you can't get up just yet – your Mom's orders."
Their daughter whimpers again, and her fingers land on Clarke's hospital gown. They both look down at her.
Bellamy lets out a breathy chuckle,
"I think she's hungry."
"I think she is." Clarke smiles sleepily, "Let's figure this one out together, sweet girl." She rubs her finger along her daughter's soft, rosy cheek.
They manage to pull away the neck of the gown without moving Clarke's aching body too much. Bellamy sits beside her on the bed, wrapping his arm around the pair as two tiny fists come to settle on Clarke's chest, contentedly kneading it as she feeds.
"She's everything." Clarke whispers.
"She is." He responds, pressing a kiss to his wife's forehead. "But so are you. I'm glad I didn't have to choose." Clarke swallows, hard.
They sit in blissful silence for a few minutes before there is a gentle knock on the door.
"Hey, I thought I'd come and check on my girls, but I can see you're doing just fine." Abby smiles, grabbing a pair of gloves and slipping them on as she crosses to her daughter.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Clarke feels her mom do something with the tube in her hand and notices her going through the motions of changing her IV bag. Of course, doctor first.
"Sore. Tired. Sorry. All of the above." Clarke winces as the needle in her hand moves when her mother adjusts it.
"Sorry?"
"For everything I've ever done to make you worry. And for asking the impossible of you last night."
Bellamy gives her a slight squeeze, and Aurora begins to slump down, full and sleepy.
"Shall I take her?" Bellamy says. Clarke doesn't want to let her daughter go just yet, but her arms are still too weak and shaky to hold her up to burp her.
As Bellamy lifts their daughter from her arms, she feels an instinctive pull, and finds that her arms follow Aurora as she is lifted. Abby sits the other side of her daughter as Bellamy rocks Aurora, wandering to the window, already moving as naturally as if he had been doing it for years. She watches them for a moment, Aurora's chin resting sleepily on her father's shoulder, dribbling down his back. She smiles softly, but can't stop the crease that forms between her brows – she wishes that she didn't feel so weak. Abby sits down on the bed next to her daughter and gently cups her face. Clarke leans her cheek into her touch.
"You didn't ask it as a daughter. You asked it as a mother. You were protecting your child before you had even met."
They sit in silence for a moment. Abby rubs her thumb across Clarke's cheek, searching her face for something before lowering her gaze.
"I would have chosen her." Abby says quietly, her lip starting to tremble. "You would never have forgiven me, or Bellamy – or yourself. It would always have been her."
Clarke doesn't know what to feel. Confused. Betrayed. Grateful. Relieved. She had never felt anything so powerful or so painful in her life as when she looked at that little bundle. She starts to cry.
"Oh my baby, you did so good. You're both okay. You're okay now." Abby takes her daughter in her arms, gently manouvering her so Clarke's head rests under her chin as Abby rubs gentle circles into her back.
"You're tired now, sweetheart. It's been a very overwhelming two days. Let me examine you, then you need to try and get some sleep. Okay?"
"Yeah." Clarke replies, scrubbing a hand over her face. She keeps her eyes on Bellamy as her mother changes her gloves before helping her move her legs into position, checking her stitches. She flinches, biting her lip as the light touch causes ripples of searing pain, and yet she doesn't dare close her eyes. She wants to spend as long as possible watching her husband in his new role. When she cries out, it is piercing and short, cut off by her hand covering her mouth.
"Sorry, sorry baby, I'm almost done." Abby soothes, her brow creased. Bellamy looks on, worried, but doesn't want to interfere.
"All good sweetheart, just your obs now and then I'll leave you alone."
Abby takes off her gloves then unwraps her stethoscope from around her neck and helps Clarke to lean forward.
"Take a deep breath for me."
Abby moves the cold bell along Clarke's back, listening to her lungs, before moving to listen to her heart.
"You're not feeling nauseous? Any headaches?"
"No headaches, but I do feel a bit nauseous."
"A bit?"
"Not as bad as last night."
"That's not hard, last night was pretty intense. Maybe it's just from the pain and the exhaustion. I can give you an anti-emetic, but you need to let me know if it gets any worse, okay?" Abby fiddles with the IV again as Clarke slumps back down, trembling slightly.
"Hey," Bellamy rejoins Clarke's side, "You're cold?" He frees one arm from under Aurora, who is now scrunched against his chest, before grabbing a thick, knitted blanket from the chair he had been sat in for twelve hours. He shakes it out with one hand, and she smiles gratefully at him as he tucks it around her, before laying Aurora into the nest made by her arms under the blanket.
"Thank you."
"The cold is probably from the shock, sweetheart, it will wear off." Abby crouches beside the bed, gazing lovingly at her granddaughter. "She's a good one," she smiles, reaching out a tentative finger, giggling like a child when Aurora's fist locks around it.
Clarke feels her heart swell, warmth floods to her cheeks, and the pain that tingled through every fibre of her being ebbs and flows like a wave with each rush of love. Bellamy settles next to her, wrapping his arm back around her, his other hand protectively resting over his daughter. His hand is the size of her entire body.
"It hurts so much." Clarke breathes into the quiet of the room.
"What, Clarke? Where does it hurt?" Abby is suddenly moving to her feet, alert, terrified that her daughter's condition was suddenly deteriorating again. Clarke's hand comes from under the blanket, catching Abby's.
"My heart." She glances up at her mother. "I've never felt so much pain in my heart." She gently starts to rock her leg as Aurora startles. "I didn't think it would be capable of feeling this much love without it breaking."
Bellamy closes his eyes, burying his face in Clarke's sweat-soaked curls and smiling. Abby relaxes, welling up. She takes Clarke's hand and presses it to her own chest, until Clarke can feel the thump of her mother's heart.
"And it never goes away."