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Clarke couldn’t seem to fall asleep, not after all that. Checking on Madi to make sure she was asleep, she pulled her jacket over her shoulders and made her way over to the fire. She sat, and put her head in her hands.
“Can’t sleep?” Clarke looked up at Bellamy’s familiar voice, but as soon as their eyes met she shifted her gaze back to the fire. She gave a curt nod.
He sighed and lowered himself heavily into the bench next to her. “Me neither.”
Clarke shivered. She could feel his body heat radiating out and she yearned to lean into it. Instead she stiffened, pulling her arms up around her chest protectively.
“Echo will be fine,” Clarke said. “She’s a strong warrior, and a survivor.”
She did a good job of keeping the bitterness out of her voice, she thought. It was not her place to judge Bellamy for who he loved; it wasn’t like she had never fallen for someone who betrayed them. It was still hard to swallow though, and she clamped down on the thought before she allowed herself to think any deeper about why that was.
Bellamy didn’t respond and Clarke felt her chest go tight with tension. Finally, she allowed her eyes to fall on him. They moved hungrily over his form, as though it had been months since she’d seen him instead of hours. She wondered when it would stop feeling like this, when her body would start to remember that his presence was no longer a novelty.
His body was taut, jaw stiff and eyes stony where they gazed into the fire. Abruptly, Bellamy turned them to meet hers. She flinched, but willed herself not to look away.
“Were you really gonna leave tonight?” Bellamy asked.
“I had to. For Madi. She’s not safe here, not with Octavia — ” Clarke broke off, not knowing quite how to describe the change in his sister. She didn’t have to. He’d seen it himself. “Not with the way things are.”
He nodded shortly and moved his eyes back to the fire.
“No, I understand,” he said. “You have to do what you can to protect her. I just... Nevermind.”
Bellamy moved to leave, but then hesitated and sat back down, sighing.
Clarke could feel him struggling with his thoughts, but she was too tired tonight to play therapist. If he wanted to say something she would not draw it out of him.
“Were you going to tell me?”
The question was mournful, plaintive. It was not what she expected.
“About us leaving?” Clarke asked. Bellamy nodded, his eyes still anywhere but on her.
The question was a minefield, she knew it. He was fishing for an answer that may have been the truth, but that she didn’t want to say out loud. She picked her words carefully.
“I did tell you.”
His eyes flashed to hers once more. They were narrowed, doubtful. She squirmed a little under his scrutiny, looking away.
“If I hadn’t been there tonight,” Bellamy asked darkly, “If I hadn’t seen you come out of that tent, would you have told me?”
She didn’t answer, didn’t look at him.
“Would you have told me, Clarke? Or would I have woken up to find you gone?” He was practically growling, his voice so low and so rough. She stayed silent, sitting stiffly next to him.
She stewed, knowing her answer but refusing to say it. She didn’t owe Bellamy anything. They had been best friends and confidants once, but it had been six years. He couldn’t expect to come down with this new life and new family — and new girlfriend, Clarke’s heart added unnecessarily — and just have her fall back into his life exactly where he wanted her. So what if her first thought when her family was threatened wasn’t to tell him her plans?
But of course that wasn’t exactly the truth was it? Bellamy had been her first thought when she realized her last option was to leave. But she couldn’t bear to tell him, not again, that she was leaving him. Clarke’s first thought was to ask him to come with them, but she knew she couldn’t, knew he wouldn’t be safe, even less so than she would have been. It was a selfish thought, and she had pushed it right down and moved on to packing.
“Clarke...” Bellamy’s voice wasn’t dark anymore, closer to broken. He reached out and laid a heavy hand on her arm. Her eyes flicked to the place where his skin met hers.
“No,” she whispered.
“No?” His grip on her arm tightened slightly. She drew in a shallow breath.
“No, Bellamy.” She gently pushed his hand off of her and drew back. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”
She met his gaze with cold, empty eyes. He appeared to flicker from emotion to emotion rapidly, from angry to confused to sad.
“But… why?” His voice no longer teetered on the precipice of broken, it had fallen solidly over the edge. Clarke fought another flinch.
“There was no time,” she said, “And nothing new to say.” She was being cruel, a small piece of her heart screamed at her, but she didn’t know how to stop.
“So that’s it then?” he asked, his voice defiant. “That’s really how you’re playing it?”
She shrugged impassively. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Bellamy.”
He laughed. It was an uncomfortable sound, not happy in the slightest, and it made her want to crawl under a rock or beg for his forgiveness. She did neither.
“Of course you don’t, Princess.” Bellamy said, and laughed again, a little mean. “You know maybe for once instead of telling people what you think you’re supposed to say, you should try starting with the truth.”
“Yeah?” She asked harshly. “And what truth would that be?”
“How about you start with why you’ve been acting so weird the last couple of days? Or why you won’t tell me anything real about how you survived? Or maybe when you decided we weren’t close enough friends anymore for you to let me know you were leaving me again?”
Clarke flinched at the last bit, she couldn’t help herself, but she kept glaring hotly at him. “You think you know so much about me, Bellamy, but guess what?” she spit. “It’s been six years. I’m not the girl you left in Praimfaya anymore. I’ve grown up, and so have you.”
She stood and turned to leave. Bellamy yelled at her retreating back.
“So what are you saying? That we shouldn’t be friends anymore? I thought we were still in this together, the head and the heart, isn’t that what you said? I want to know you, Clarke, I do, but you won’t let me in.” He trailed off, clearly frustrated. “Don’t you even want to try?”
She turned back, deflating a little. “Of course I want to try.”
“Look, Clarke, I’m sorry for leaving you.” She tried to interject but he held up his hand to stop her. Bellamy continued, “No, I know, it was the only choice, but I’m still sorry for doing it. I can’t help but feel like all this distance is my fault.”
“No.” She stated emphatically. “No, it’s just — ” Echo, she thought, my mom, Octavia, Diyoza, Madi, the end of the world, an aborted suicide attempt, 2199 radio calls, a life that could’ve been but that I never deserved to have, things for you that I felt and felt and feel but will never say out loud.
“Time?” Bellamy offered.
“Time,” Clarke repeated gratefully.
“I get that. I do. Just — ” he stuttered, rucking his hands through his hair, “Please don’t leave. I just got you back and I can’t — I can’t lose you again.
She came to stand behind him and gently put a hand on his shoulder. Bellamy covered it with his own, and leant his head onto their joined hands. “Promise me you won’t leave.”
Clarke brought her other hand up to stroke through his hair. “You know I can’t do that.”
He lifted his head and looked up at her. “Then promise me if you have to leave, you’ll tell me, so I can go with you.”
“Bellamy…” she said, and sighed deeply, “I’ll tell you, I promise I will, but you have to know you can’t come with me.”
“And why’s that? Don’t tell me it’s too dangerous, Clarke.”
She sighed again. “Because your sister is here, Bellamy, and she needs you. And Harper and Monty as well. So will Raven and Murphy and Emori, when Echo brings them home. And Echo — ” Clarke broke off, suddenly exhausted.
“I guess you’re right,” Bellamy said, gently pulling away from her touch. His brows drew together, confused. “Of course. I don’t know why I hadn’t considered- No, of course, you’re right.”
“It’s okay, Bellamy. They’re your people. You have to be there for them.” Clarke squeezed his shoulder and walked away, head held high.
“You’re my people too,” He said to her back. She stopped but didn’t turn.
“I know, Bell,” she said, just loud enough that he could hear it. He smiled and turned back to the fire.
Clarke stifled a sob, then straightened up, drew her shoulders back and kept walking. She had to be there for her people too. She knew better than to make Bellamy choose between her and them, between her and Echo. She'd been in love herself, once or twice. Three times, her heart whispered traitorously, I’ve been in love three times.