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Bellamy wasn’t enamored of the idea when Octavia first brought it up.
“Why should we celebrate some ancient holiday?” he argued. “We have enough on our hands as it is. Be realistic, O.”
“Believe it or not, Bell, I’m not the only one who wants to do it. Lincoln says the Trigedakru celebrate the winter solstice. This isn’t so different, is it? And it gives us some common ground.”
Bellamy grumbled a few more complaints, but in the end was outvoted when Octavia brought it up to Abby and Marcus, who thought that resurrecting Christmas would be a smart move to give their people some extra cheer and motivation now that winter was upon them, not to mention keeping a few of the grounder traditions alive for Lincoln and the handful of Trigedakru who had chosen to stay with them. Bellamy wasn’t so sure, but the excitement of his friends was difficult to ignore. They’d all heard about Christmas while on the Ark, but had never been allowed to celebrate anything other than Unity Day. Despite his best intentions to stay out of it, he found himself drawn into the celebrations. He remembered being up on the Ark, watching old archive footage with his mother and Octavia, seeing people bring real trees into their houses and decorate them with bright objects. It had seemed so foreign to him, when the world that surrounded them was utilitarian and strict. The thought of Christmas wishes and giving gifts was an extravagance that even children on the Ark could not afford.
Except that now, they could.
Once the newly built cabins within the settlement’s walls were stocked with food and firewood, Bellamy helped Lincoln cut down a large pine tree to sit in front of the downed Ark. The former Delinquents and children decorated it with painted pine cones and bits of twisted metal. It gleamed in the firelight, not unlike the trees in the old Earth movies. On what the Ark’s calendar showed to be December 23, Lincoln showed them how to cook venison the way the grounders did for the solstice celebrations, while Monty got several batches of moonshine ready to share, and the children prepared to exchange small gifts—beautiful stones, homemade trinkets, old personal belongings from the Ark.
Though Bellamy had been begrudgingly looking forward to the revived festival, he realized he felt quite differently on Christmas Eve. There was something wrong about celebrating when Clarke was still absent. He volunteered for guard duty, relieving a man who was eager to eat with his family. Standing just inside the front gate, Bellamy rubbed his hands together to ward off the cold, stamping his feet lightly into the snow. The light layers crunched under his boots, and he wondered when it would snow again. Had it snowed wherever Clarke was? Was she cold? Had she found shelter?
It was easy for his thoughts to wander to Clarke. They often did when his hands were idle. At first, after the Mount Weather incident, he’d worried about her non-stop. He had fully expected her to stay gone for a few days, and come back when she was hungry enough. When she hadn’t returned, he found himself remembering how she’d hugged him, the kiss she’d placed on his cheek. She’d said goodbye as though it were final, like they’d never see each other again. She’d asked him to take care of their people, and he had. But who was going to take care of her? Not that she wasn’t capable of watching out for herself, but Lexa’s people were out there, and they probably wanted her dead for not agreeing to the deal with the Mountain Men. And there were Reapers, and wild animals, and any number of accidents that could—
Bellamy took a deep gulp of air into his lungs, trying to push the fears away. She’d wanted to leave. They’d received no word from her in the three months since Mount Weather. There was a good chance she was dead. There was no sense in worrying about someone he’d probably never see again. There was no point in imagining her slight body shivering from the cold, huddled in some cave or bunker, away from her friends and family and people who cared about her.
Despite his attempts at logic, he found himself looking up at the stars instead of watching the perimeter. Chatter from the gathering floated over from where his people— their people —were celebrating, despite the bite in the air, despite the knowledge that this first winter on the ground would likely wipe out a good deal of them with disease and hunger. He watched the navy blue sky, forgetting the gun in his hand. He closed his eyes, and let himself wish, for just one moment, that Clarke would return.
“You’re a terrible guard, you know that?”
His head snapped to attention, his fingers on the trigger. He stared at the figure on the other side of the electric fence.
“Clarke?”
Her face was thinner than it had been, and her smile was forced. But it was Clarke Griffin all right, bundled up in an animal fur, with dirt on her cheeks, and a gun in her hand.
“Bellamy. You gonna let me in, or what?”
His eyes scanned the area behind her, watching the treeline for grounders as he opened the gate. She stepped in, close to his body, looking up at him. He closed the gate behind her, and propped his gun up against it. “Clarke.”
“Hey,” she whispered, tucking her own gun back into her clothing. The moment her hands were free, he embraced her tightly, burying his face in her neck. She melted into him, and he thought nothing had ever felt so good.
After a moment, she pulled away. He realized that his arms felt empty, useless, without her in them, and when the fuck did that happen? He coughed to cover up his sudden self-awareness, the ache in his chest that was somehow both worse and better in her presence. “Where have you been, princess?” he asked, his voice gruff with emotion and disuse.
Clarke crossed her arms against the chill, her eyes roving over Camp Jaha. “Here and there,” she said. “What’s going on?” she was looking toward the celebration. She sniffed the air, and he wondered how hungry she was.
“Um. Christmas Eve, if you can believe it,” he said. “All the other guards are making merry, I guess.”
Clarke looked up at him. “Well that’s...new.” She laughed nervously, the way she did when she didn’t want anyone to know what she was thinking. He opened his mouth to ask her how she really felt, but something entirely different came out.
“I missed you.”
She looked at the ground. “I missed you, too.”
“You gonna tell me what you’ve been up to?”
Clarke met his gaze. “Eventually. I—I just. Well, I needed space, to think about...well, you know.”
Bellamy did know. He wondered if she had as many nightmares as he did about Mount Weather. He wondered if she woke up with her heart pounding in the middle of the night, thinking about the children who had to die in order for their friends to live. He wondered if he would sleep better with her tucked into his side; the only person who could understand what the inside of his head felt like.
“Yeah,” he said. “I get it.” It came out rougher, more calloused than he meant it to, and he grimaced. How could he explain that he hadn’t just missed her? Her absence had been a thorn in his heart, a soreness he didn’t know how to alleviate.
Clarke cleared her throat and looked back at the festivities. The distant firelight played across her face, and Bellamy knew he’d never seen her look so beautiful. “So, that’s Christmas, huh?” she asked. A slight tremor knocked through her thin shoulders, and he suddenly felt like a supreme asshole.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “Fuck, of course you are. I’m sorry, princess. You’re probably hungry, too. Let me grab Monroe to watch the gate—”
Clarke touched his arm, a light brush at first before her fingers tucked into the crook of his elbow. “Not yet, I—I’m not really ready to see anyone. Just...give it a few minutes, if that’s okay.”
Bellamy covered her bare hand with his gloved one, hoping his touch would warm her. “Whatever you want.”
The strains of music drifted toward them, and Clarke perked up. “What’s that?”
He listened, and smiled. “That would be Octavia,” he answered. “She always did have a thing for the obscure. Probably scoured the archives looking for it.”
Clarke closed her eyes. “I’ve never heard this one before. It’s beautiful.” She moved closer to him, and he only hesitated for a moment before wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“Welcome home, Clarke.”
She was a solid warmth against his side, and he brushed a kiss against her hair. She turned her face up, pressing her cold cheeks against his. He couldn’t hear her, but he felt her lips against his neck as she whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Bellamy.”
This endris night I saw a sight,
A star as bright as day,
And ev'r among, a maiden sung,
"Lully, bye bye, lullay."