Archive of Our Own

Things had miraculously slowed down to a somewhat normal pace after everything had happened. And Clarke was grateful.

She was grateful to feel the warmth of the suns on her skin, to breathe the clean air and to see the blue sky. To see Madi’s smile and feel the comforting arms of her mother, to see the faces of her friends. The friends she had, up until recently, thought wouldn’t even budge at the possibility of her needing their help. She still doesn’t believe it, even though it’s weeks later. She still fears that one day she’ll wake up and realize this has all been a dream and she is still being held captive within her own mind at the hands of Josephine; fated to relive her worst nightmares repeatedly until her body eventually grew too old and be gone forever. She hasn’t woken up to that yet. But when she is reminded of the good things in her life, she pushes those worries away and decides to enjoy whatever time the universe has decided to give her.

Sanctum was different from Earth in about a thousand different ways and had proven to be much more dangerous, but with the help of the citizens Clarke and her friends had found ways to manage, to actually begin to set down roots and build a home for themselves. Deciding they wanted to build a small community of their own without feeling like a burden on their new acquaintances, her people had decided on adopting a modest amount of land at the base of the mountain. While still rather wooded and protected from within the shield, it wasn’t too far from a lake similar to the one they had seen on their first day here. It was peaceful, just what they had all craved, and this had quickly become a place they could finally call their own. 

Clarke and Madi had chosen their own little sanctuary: a cottage not too far from the main houses (they both had decided they felt more comfortable on their own), and within walking distance to the lake. Ever since claiming this land as their own, the two young women were no strangers to spending hours on the shore, locked in their own serene world. It was wonderful that Madi could finally have somewhere she could feel unburdened from the responsibilities of a commander, and it greatly helped when it came to trying to feel like herself again, a normal teenager. It’s what Clarke had always wanted for her.

—

Bellamy came to check in on them quite frequently, and if it weren’t for the fact that she knew he was only hovering because of everything that happened with the Primes, Clarke would have already told him it was unnecessary. She could sense that it seemed to give him some peace of mind, from the sigh of relief from seeing them first thing in the morning, to his relaxed posture when he joined them for dinner. He was considerably more at ease, smiled much more often, and after everything they’d been through, who was she to tell him to stop? It always caused a wave of affection to run through her, and she didn’t want it to stop anytime soon either.

“C’mon Bellamy, you have to have some good embarrassing stories about Clarke,” the younger girl prompts one night, earning a small gasp of betrayal from Clarke and a chuckle from Bellamy.

“Why do you want embarrassing stories of me?”

Madi rolls her eyes and gives Clarke a pointed look. “Because you’ve never told me any, and Bellamy was there since the beginning so he would know, right?”

Madi turns her now hopeful stare toward Bellamy and he smirks in response before leaning forward on the kitchen table.

“Only if you tell me some of her embarrassing stories in Eden.”

Clarke lets out a huff and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“If I had known you two were going to team up against me I wouldn’t have let you two meet.” 

Bellamy’s grin lights up the entire room, along with Madi’s laughter. “C’mon, Princess. You’ve probably told her stories about all the dumb stuff I’ve done. It’s only fair.”

Clarke scoffs. “I’ll have you know, I’ve only told her wonderful things about you. Not one stupid thing, and I could have told her plenty.”

“That’s not true,” Madi says with a mischievous grin as she looks between the two of them. “She told me about the time you were trying to show off during the early days at the drop ship, when you were helping build the wall around the camp. And as soon as Clarke came over and said something to you, you lost your balance and fell off the ladder you were on, flat on your butt.”

“Hey!” Bellamy’s expression turns to one of feigned annoyance and Clarke’s face suddenly feels warmer, not realizing Madi had remembered that particular story. 

“You’re lucky that’s the only dumb story I’ve told her,” she tells him, a small smirk on her lips. She turns to Madi and gestures for them to stand up. “Alright you, let’s clean up and then you can get ready for bed.”

Madi groans, but does as she’s told, not without mumbling under her breath that she’s a teenager now, not a baby, which Clarke decides to ignore. She’s growing up too fast. They all clean up what was left from their dinner, and by the time they’re done and Madi has gone off to her room, she and Bellamy are the only ones left in the room. Clarke suddenly feels more nervous.

“I can’t believe you still remembered that story,” he starts with a shake of his head.

Clarke stiffens a bit, but manages to shrug. “I just remembered it one day, and thought it was funny so I told her. I needed more story material after about a year.”

“I hope you didn’t tell her about everything I did,” he says, making a face, and Clarke laughs softly.

“No, of course not. I didn’t think it was appropriate to tell her all about you parading around as the shirtless self-appointed king of a bunch of delinquents.”

Bellamy lets out a groan of embarrassment, but eventually laughs. “I was such a dick back then, I don’t know how you or anyone else didn’t kick me out of camp or something.”

“Hey, you weren’t a total dick. You helped keep us alive, that’s something,” she says grinning, before giving him a playful look. “And so what if you don’t know how to climb a ladder.”

Bellamy smirks and responds with a teasing look she’s rarely gotten to see since the drop ship days. “What can I say, pretty girls were always my weakness.”

His words hit Clarke harder than she expected, and the mirrored look of shock on his face tells her he probably didn’t mean to say that. Their eyes remain locked for a beat before they both awkwardly glance away, trying to busy themselves with anything they can find in the kitchen.

“Yeah, I could see that,” she mumbles under her breath as she pretends to be cleaning something on the counter.

She’s not used to this, this light almost flirty type of conversations with him. Sure, they can talk about life and death and survival every day, but this feels completely out of their usual comfort zone.

Clarke hears him clear his throat but she doesn’t turn around to look at him, not just yet. And it’s definitely not because she can feel the heat of her blush claiming her usually pale cheeks. Shut up.

“I’m sorry, you know. About back then. When I used to...well, you know. I should have helped you more.”

She shakes her head, continuing to pretend she’s actually doing something on the counter. “You don’t have to justify it or apologize, Bellamy. We all needed some time to… unwind and distract ourselves back then. I know I did.”

“...Oh. Right.”

His voice sounds weird so Clarke finally turns around and sees Bellamy sitting there with a grim look on his face for a moment, before he composes himself and clears his throat again. “So. It’s getting late. I should probably head out. You probably want to go to bed soon.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, I guess.”

He nods and stands up before getting his coat and giving her an awkward wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” she agrees, and then he’s gone.

————-

Her head feels lighter than it’s been in quite some time, but Clarke can feel the wind gently blowing, tousling her hair, and she can see the clear sky above her.

She’s coming back home now, only a few yards away from the main entrance of their village, before something small comes crashing into her, wrapping their arms around her waist.

She feels neither here nor there, and while she feels as though she’s watching this scene unfold from nearby, she can also look down and see the bright blue eyes of the little boy, along with his familiar dark curls and freckled cheeks, beaming up at her. Other than his eyes, it strikes her to the core just how much he is the spitting image of Bellamy, along with his rare playful grin to match. The instant wave of pure love and devotion crashes over her as she gathers him in her arms and kisses the top of his head.

“ Mom! You’re finally back! I really missed you,” he murmurs as he nuzzles his cheek against her stomach, while Clarke gently runs her fingers through his hair.

“It was only three days, sweetheart,” her voice says, despite not willing it to come from her own lips.

“I know, but it felt like longer,” he says with a small pout. That’s all hers.

“Didn’t you have fun with your dad?”

“Yes, but he missed you, too,” the boy answers, looking up at her. “And Dad doesn’t tuck me in at night as good as you.”

She chuckles and presses another kiss to the top of his head, keeping her voice low. “Don’t let him hear you say that. You don’t want him to be sad and mope around.”

“No, ma’am,” he answers, and she can hear the grin in his tone. “But he’s been moping the last few days. But he’ll be happy now.”

Clarke knows she’s about to respond but then suddenly, the scene begins to blur and before she can move or say a word the world is dissolving and the little boy in front of her is gone. She grasps toward the space she had just seen him, only to feel air between her fingers, and a growing sense of dread sits in her stomach like a stone.

“Hey! Where did you—No, no, come back!”

She tries to move, to run, to look for the boy with the dark curls and crystal blue eyes, but she can’t seem to get her legs to take her where she is desperately trying to go.

“Help! Somebody, please!” She cries as her body begins to feel much heavier and a fog begins to surround her. She can’t see anything, she can’t see him-

“Clarke! Clarke, c’mon, wake up—“

She’s gasping as she bolts upright, feeling the weight of something pressing onto her shoulders. The fog has disappeared now, and the familiar bedroom begins to take form around her, along with the man beside her that is trying to keep her steady. Her eyes are wild as she grasps his arms, his hands, whatever she can reach, her breathing slowing down slightly.

“Clarke, oh my god...You’re okay, you’re home. It was just a nightmare,” Bellamy assures her, his grip on her softening, and he keeps a comforting hand on her shoulder.

A nightmare. Of course, it had to be. It was the only thing that made sense, Clarke tells herself. She lets out a deep breath, giving him a small grateful smile and covers his hand on her shoulder with hers, turning her head to nuzzle into it.

“A nightmare,” she murmurs, feeling herself finally beginning to calm down. “Just a dream.”

And then the memory of the dream slams back into her and she immediately flinches, causing Bellamy’s semi-permanent expression of worry to return.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, sitting on the edge of her bed beside her. He’s rubbing comforting circles on the back of her hands where they now lay in her lap, and Clarke can barely manage to look up at him without seeing the face of the boy from the dream. Her mouth suddenly feels dry and her gaze drops away from his, giving him a brief nod.

“I’m fine. I’m good. Promise.” It comes out more like a broken whisper than what she had intended, but if Bellamy isn’t totally convinced, he decides not to push it anyway. 

“You scared me, you know? We were a little further down the shore and you ran off to look for some kind of plant, and the next thing I know, I find you passed out.”

She remembers that much now that he mentions it. She had heard from the other members of Sanctum about a certain kind of plant that usually grows along the tree line near the shore that was supposedly very helpful in treating burns. And with being on a new planet with two suns, Clarke thought it would be more than helpful to have some on hand.

“Yeah, I remember I was looking for that plant Delilah told me about,” she muses, trying to remember exactly what happened to cause her to faint. “Maybe I was just dehydrated or something,” she finally settles on.

Bellamy grimaces and gently pats the top of her hand. “We’ve got to be more careful. Maybe it was just dehydration, but maybe you should take it easy for a day or two.”

She can sense from the uneasy tone in his voice that dehydration isn’t what he’s worried about: if she has any strange symptoms at all that she was still in her head, she needed to tell him or Abby immediately. Ever since it all ended, Clarke has felt fine, if not only a little tired and slightly disconnected from her body. But everyday saw improvement, and now she feels perfectly fine.

She sighs, then finds and holds his gaze, giving him a pointed look. “Hey, listen to me. I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about that. If anything was off you know I would tell you,” she says to him, conviction in her voice, and for a moment Bellamy looks solemn before giving a short nod.

“I know you would. But you said you had a nightmare. What if it wasn’t and it’s really...”

Clarke quickly shakes her head and the need to look away from him returns. “It wasn’t that kind of nightmare. It honestly wasn’t even a nightmare til the very end. I promise.”

Bellamy’s shoulders are still tense and Clarke realizes that if the roles were reversed, she would be skeptical as well. She can’t blame him. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

She nods, still avoiding his gaze, worried that the details of the dream will come rushing right back if she even looks in his eyes for more than two seconds. But still, a glimpse of the little boy, apparently their little boy, flashes into her thoughts again and this time it gives her chills.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Doesn’t matter anyway.”

—-

“Fortune Lilies?”

Delilah nods enthusiastically, meanwhile Clarke is sure her expression is nothing less than doubtful.

“Yeah, they’re not very common around here, but if you find one you’re supposed to be really lucky,” the young woman explains as she leans forward on the bartop. Within a matter of two days or so since Clarke had been rescued and separated from Josephine, Jordan had insisted they do what they could to save their new friend as well, and fortunately they had been able to extract Priya from Delilah’s body as well. Clarke was so glad to see her back, and found that she had become her closest new friend since arriving in Sanctum. Especially now, considering the experience they shared. Whenever Clarke had felt like no one else might understand what she had gone through, Delilah had been there. They were lucky enough to have someone to talk to.

Clarke scoffed at the supposed meaning behind this flower. But then again, luck has brought her this far. God knows she’s made so many mistakes that should have resulted in her death ages ago. “But all I remember is seeing it, and the next thing I know, I was waking up in my bed because I had passed out. Does it release some sort of toxin or something?”

She’s reminded of the toxins resulting from the eclipse, and she’s grateful that she didn’t attack anyone in her state. And now that she is aware, it could have very well been Bellamy. Her heart clenches at the thought of hurting him again.

“That’s the thing, when you touch it, it has some kind of property that causes the holder to fall asleep. I guess it could be some sort of toxin,” she admits with a sheepish smile.

“Then what’s so lucky about it?” Clarke asks, not understanding why some odd flower that puts people to sleep would be considered a big deal if one found it. Delilah leans even closer and Clarke thinks she can see a smirk on her lips.

“ Because Clarke, the people that find the Fortune Lilies and pass out as a result, always say the same thing afterwards: they have odd dreams, which have since been discovered actually be visions of the person’s future. So tell me, did you have a weird dream?”

The silence that follows is practically deafening, and Clarke swears she could hear a pin drop. 

“...I’m sorry, what?”

Delilah’s smirk is now a full-blown grin and she tries to stop herself from laughing. “I’m sorry, Griffin, but just the look on your face tells me everything I need to know. I just hope it was a good vision.”

Someone could probably kick her stool right out from under her and she wouldn’t even notice. It feels as though everything around her has shifted as she’s still trying to process what the other girl has just said. The future. Her future. A son— her son. Who looked an awful lot like a certain co-leader and best friend of hers.

“You’re joking with me, right? How the hell is a damn flower supposed to show me my future? ” She hisses out the last part, hoping no one around can see the small breakdown she’s currently experiencing. There was no scientific way. Time was so subjective...

Delilah is still trying to keep the laughter at bay but gives Clarke a shrug. “That’s just how it’s always been since our people lived here. I personally haven’t been so lucky to find one, but now that I know they’re around your village, I might have to make a visit.”

Clarke lets out a groan and lets her head rest down on the countertop, the surface cool against her forehead. This can’t be happening. There was no way she and Bellamy would ever— he didn’t feel that way about her. Or maybe— No. She was getting way too ahead of herself.

Delilah is suddenly more serious upon Clarke’s reaction and reaches forward to gently rest her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Hey, is everything alright? You didn’t see something bad, did you? Should I go get—”

Clarke looks up and shakes her head, an apologetic smile curving her lips upward. “No, no, sorry, I just...panicked. Nothing bad, though. Just really...incredible, I guess.”

Delilah visibly relaxes and gives her an imploring smile. “So...would it be too nosy of me to ask what you might have seen? I’ve never actually met someone who found a Fortune Lily. I’ve only heard other people’s stories.”

Clarke’s expression softens, remembering the look of happiness on the boy’s face, his freckles dusting his cheeks and his curls that fell onto his forehead; the way he hugged her like she was the center of his world, and how she felt the same.

“I...I think I have a son.”

-----

When Clarke had the idea to head into Sanctum for the day, it didn’t surprise her that Bellamy also suddenly had a reason to go. Errands, he claimed. He never elaborated on the specifics, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with him today. Especially not after her dream. She could barely look at him without feeling a rush of emotions, much less risk spilling everything in the middle of an argument. 

The walk back to their compound is quiet, but comfortable. They’ve never needed to fill in every moment of silence with words, which she’s always appreciated. It isn’t until they are almost home that Bellamy stops walking and Clarke looks back to see why she stopped hearing his footsteps.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little anxious or something. Or did I do something?”

His shoulders are tense and with dark eyes searching hers, Clarke feels guilty for practically avoiding conversations with him since the incident. If she were him, she would think the same thing, and maybe that’s why they can always read each other so well.

She frowns and quickly shakes her head, heading back to approach him. “No, you haven’t done anything, Bellamy. And I guess I’m a little anxious,” she admits shyly, “but I’m fine. It’s nothing. Really.”

He still doesn’t seem very convinced, and he usually isn’t these days. Clarke knows he’s worried about her. She could sense it ever since they’d gotten her back, never truly relaxing as if something was going to go wrong again and perhaps Josephine was never really gone. She places a hand on his bicep in an attempt to calm him. He relaxes a bit under her touch.

“If it’s about what happened the other day and that nightmare you had, you know you can talk to me if you need to, right?”

Memories of the dream rush back to her and she can’t help but blush. It was strange, ever since talking with Delilah about what she experienced, she didn’t even consider it a nightmare anymore at all. Clarke nods, debating on whether or not she should tell him anything about it.

If she tells him, she risks making things awkward as hell, and she’s not sure if she can endure that right when they seem to be in the best place they’ve ever been. And if the crazy flower story isn’t even true? It would all be for nothing. But on the other hand… if the story was true, which Delilah swore it was, she shouldn’t influence their future that way. Bellamy still has no idea about any of this. Clarke wants him to have that choice. Even if it meant she carries this knowledge alone.

She nods. “Yeah, of course,” she tells him softly, already feeling guilty about keeping this from him. But it’s for the best, Clarke tells herself. At least for now. Who knows, maybe one day she’ll tell him, five or ten years from now. Her thoughts briefly drift to a future where Bellamy is settled down with his own wife and family, and her chest tightens.

This seems to be enough for Bellamy for now, though the concern never fully leaves his features. He sighs and gives her a small smile. “Good. Now let’s get home and see if Madi hasn’t burned your house down yet.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and smiles before turning to go back toward the direction of home. “Madi isn’t the one I’m worried about. Jordan, on the other hand…”

“Clarke, Jordan is twice Madi’s age.”

“And Jordan is Monty’s son, who wasn’t a stranger to a few mishaps when he was working on things.”

He stays quiet for a beat, then nods. “Good point.”

Clarke laughs and gestures for him to follow her. “Then let’s go see if Madi and I have to look for a new place to stay.”

------

The house and everyone in it turns out to be fine, as expected.

It turns into another normal night for them, having dinner together, telling each other about their days, which includes Madi telling them that Jordan did almost light the kitchen counter on fire (Clarke gives Bellamy a pointed look). 

Afterward, once everything is cleaned up and Madi has asked to go visit a friend for a little while, Clarke decides it’s as good of a night as any to maybe see if she remembers how to draw. She can’t remember the last time she could relax and enjoy such a personal luxury.

When she and Madi had first moved in, the younger girl had managed to surprise her with a worn, but otherwise perfect blank sketchbook and a few pencils.

“It’s a home-coming present. Or home-warming. One of those. Delilah was telling me about them. I guess people used to give each other gifts like this when they had a new home. Even if it’s my new home, too.”

Clarke immediately had teared up at her daughter’s thoughtfulness and hugged her tight. “It’s perfect, thank you.” She had told her. But since then, she’s been a bit busy or either hadn’t had the inspiration and hadn’t gotten a chance to use the sketchbook and pencils yet. Tonight’s the best night as any, so she grabs them from their small bookshelf and settles herself on the couch.

Bellamy makes himself comfortable, as he has been tending to do these days - after Clarke’s insisting - and takes a book from their small collection, leafing through it on the other chair in the room.

Some time passes, and soon enough the pencil feels like an extension of her hand as the lines begin to form on the paper. It isn’t until she’s almost done when Clarke realizes what she’s drawing, but Bellamy happens to go over to get another book just at that moment.

“Who’s that?”

Clarke stares at the page, seeing the soft lines that make up the boy’s curls, the gentle sweep of freckles that cover his cheeks, the eyes that are hers in shape and color…

Clarke flinches and tries to cover the drawing by turning the page. “Oh. Nothing— I mean, no one. Just a sketch.” Her tone is too hurried, too nervous, and Bellamy’s brow furrows.

“No one? That’s a lot of detail for a person who doesn’t exist.”

But I saw him. He will exist.

She quickly pushes that thought away and chuckles nervously. “Well, yeah, it must be an artist thing.” God, that might have been the lamest excuse she’s ever given.

Bellamy frowns and leans forward to turn the page back to the sketch of the boy. “He looks familiar though. Is he a kid from Sanctum?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah! A kid I saw in Sanctum. Must not have realized it when I was drawing him.” She prays that’s all he says on the topic and moves on. How the fuck is she supposed to explain the truth? Oh yeah, this is our son, by the way. He looks just like you. Isn’t he perfect? Bellamy would have Abby and Jackson put her right into a straight-jacket.

Bellamy gives a low grunt in response, still looking at the sketch curiously. Even after several moments, Clarke has to clear her throat to get him to respond. “You okay?”

He snaps out of his trance, and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really good, by the way. Your drawing. I’m glad you’re getting back to it.”

Clarke internally gives a massive sigh of relief, finally turning the page again now that the subject is dropped.

“Thanks. I’m glad, too.”

——

Several weeks have passed since the fortune lily incident and the drawing, and the longer Clarke keeps it to herself, the heavier it feels on her shoulders and the harder it is to be around Bellamy.

She truly thought it would be fine, that she’d forget about it, that things would go back to normal. She was wrong.

Everyday Clarke thinks about the boy who hugged her so tightly— the same way Madi hugs her— and the way she only had him for a minute before he disappeared right before her eyes. She thinks maybe he’ll come back to her in a dream, but it’s only occurred once or twice and something about him has just looked off. Not quite the way he looked the first time.

She makes a habit of sketching him. Over and over again. The sketchbook is now filled with about a dozen pages with her son’s face and none of them look exactly the way she tries to remember him. Sometimes it’s his eyes, other days it’s his nose, but now she’s struggling to make his smile just right and it’s driving her insane. She’s forgetting him, and it terrifies her.

Clarke is particularly distraught about it one day, when Madi has gone on a hike with Gaia, and she can’t stop staring at the first sketch as it lays in front of her on the kitchen table, and trying to perfect her son’s features on the following ones.

Someone knocks on the door, and she barely even registers telling whoever it is to come in.

“Clarke?”

She suddenly looks over her shoulder and of course, there is Bellamy, bag slung over his shoulder, and what looks to be two covered plates of food in his hands.

He’s been doing this more lately. Helping with the cottage however he can, giving Madi impromptu lessons in history and telling her stories of his life on the Ark, even doting on Clarke more than she’s used to, which has caused her cheeks to flush at least a dozen times. She’s even considered the possibility that he might be flirting with her, but she always pushes that thought away. They’re just friends. They always will be.

“Hey. What’s up?”

He gestured to the plates in his hands before shoving the front door shut with his foot. “Murphy and Emori made too much for lunch. Told me to take some, so I thought I’d bring you some.”

Her heart melts at the gesture. It’s things like this that are also driving Clarke up the wall because if he keeps doing things such as bringing her food, being thoughtful, looking at her with so much tenderness in his eyes, and looking so stupidly handsome and adorable when he does all that, she might do something... stupid.

“Thank you Bellamy, you didn’t have to do that.” She gets up from her chair and smiles, going over to him to take the plates and set them on the counter.

He shrugs and follows her, not meeting her eyes. “Just want to make sure you’re eating. And Murphy is surprisingly a good cook, so I figured you’d get mad if you missed it.”

She chuckles and turns so she’s leaning back against the counter. “Me? I never get mad.”

He gives her a look before rolling his eyes with a smile, opens his mouth to retort but suddenly stops.

“Are those your drawings?”

Clarke freezes, and dread fills her when she follows his gaze to the open sketchbook on the table.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Why?”

Bellamy doesn’t answer right away, walking over to the table to get a better look, and she’s scrambling to think of a reason to give him.

“Is this the same kid from that other drawing? The one from a few weeks ago?” He flips back a page, then another.

Clarke rushes forward and closes the book shut, igniting his questioning gaze. “They’re just sketches. So what?” It comes out a bit more defensive than she meant.

“Clarke, is something going on?”

She shakes her head and brings the book to her chest, her arms crossed over it. “What? I’m fine. Why would something be going on?”

“You’ve just...I don’t know.” He looks conflicted, the muscle in his jaw ticking, and Clarke knows it’s because he’s holding back.

“Just say what you want to say, Bellamy.”

He hesitates a moment, covering his mouth with his hand for a second before bringing it back down to his side. “You’ve just seemed...a little off. For a few weeks now, since that day by the water.”

Fuck. 

“Bellamy…I’m fine.”

“Are you? You just seem a little more distant, I guess. First that nightmare thing, then it’s like you’re more nervous around me, and you’ve been drawing the same thing over and over...I’m just confused. And worried. After Josephine…”

Hearing the name causes her to wince, and the look of regret on Bellamy’s face is immediate. They haven’t spoken that name since it happened. Not privately.

“This has nothing to do with her, Bellamy. Just trust me, I’m fine—“

“I know you better than that, Clarke!”

She stops, her eyes wide as she looks at his more flustered appearance now. His eyes are searching, pleading, concerned. “You could be dying and still tell people you’re fine!”

Clarke feels her heart crack at the sadness and worry in his voice, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She puts the sketchbook down and walks over to him, taking his hands in hers.

“Bellamy, listen to me.” She looks up at him, his sorrowful eyes eventually settling on hers. “I am fine . Me being weird lately doesn’t have anything to do with Josephine. I promise. But it’s...complicated. Just please… trust me.”

He looks as if he wants to believe her, but he’s not quite there yet.

“Is there anything I can do? Even if you don’t tell me, what about your mom, or someone else? I just want you to be okay.”

Her heart swells with everything she feels for the wonderful man in front of her. Clarke wishes she could just tell him. Maybe she should, maybe they can laugh it off as something ridiculous and she can just hide her pain. They could go back to normal. They would move on with life, Bellamy would end up with someone else, and Clarke will just suck it up and pretend she never touched that stupid flower or asked about it. But they would be okay. That’s all that matters.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Clarke starts, unsure how to word this. “I just don’t know how to...make sense of it.”

“That nightmare?”

She nods before releasing his hands and taking a step back from him. “It wasn’t even really a nightmare. It just really surprised me.”

Bellamy stays quiet for a moment before nodding toward the sketchbook again. “Was that kid in the dream? Is that why you keep drawing him?”

Clarke’s eyes widen, but she shouldn’t be surprised at how perceptive Bellamy is.

“I...Yes.”

“He’s not really from Sanctum?”

She shakes her head, her tears threatening to come back now, the more she thinks about him. “No. But he felt so real . I-I wanted him to be real.”

Bellamy reaches for the sketchbook again, glancing at her for permission, and she nods. He studies the drawings again, more closely as he looks through the different ones she’s made.

“Who is he? Why is he so special?”

Because he’s ours .

“Because he’s y—He’s mine.”

Bellamy goes still, his eyes narrowing at the drawing before looking back up at her. She wants the ground to swallow her whole.

“...He’s what ?”

“Mine,” Clarke tells him in a small voice, her eyes watering. She wipes at them with the back of her hand. “It was just for a minute, but...Whatever, it’s too weird. I just...didn’t want to forget him.”

“He was your son.”

The words sound odd coming from him, Clarke thinks. She realizes it doesn’t sound right. Not when it’s not the complete truth.

“But...it was just a dream. How...why did it upset you so much?”

She isn’t sure how to answer him without giving more away, without telling him that it’s apparently set in her future, their future. Clarke doesn’t even know when she’s started to put so much faith into this whole thing. 

She takes a few steps away from him, walking into the living area of the room and sinking down into the couch. Bellamy follows, tentative at first, but sitting beside her only moments later.

“Because it was just supposed to be a dream. But it felt so real, and…”

She glances over at him, and he silently asks her to continue.

“It’s something I know I don’t deserve.”

And that’s it. The reason this whole incident has struck her so significantly, she thinks. She’s never spoken the words, but they’ve been whispers in the back of her mind ever since it happened. You’ll never have this. Not after everything you’ve done.

With Madi, it’s different. Clarke just happened to find her and they became a family, making her realize just how much she loved being a mother-figure to the young girl. But to actually push fate and maybe one day have another child who looks up at her as if she’s the best person in the world? No. She doesn’t deserve that. 

“...You think you don’t deserve to have kids? But you have Madi—“

“And she’s already more than I deserve,” Clarke interrupts. “Ever since everything that’s happened after we got to the ground, I never really thought that far into the future. Having Madi has been a blessing, more than I could have ever hoped for. But with her, it was like skipping a few steps. With the way our lives are, I just never really expected… Either way, what I’m trying to say is, that if Madi is the only child I’m ever going to have, that’s more than enough for me, and I’m not going to tempt the universe or whatever by trying to add to that.”

Bellamy is quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. She can’t exactly tell how he’s taking it, he looks so passive. But maybe she’ll be lucky and he won’t push it, and they can leave this conversation behind and never talk about it again.

“When you say ‘adding to that’, you mean doing something that might make you happy, don’t you?”

But this is Bellamy, and he never lets her get away with it.

“I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. So can we just—“

He shakes his head and puts a hand up to stop her. “Hold on, let me just say this, and actually listen to me. Please.” Clarke presses her lips together, but gives him a small nod. “Clarke, you deserve anything and everything you want. After everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve survived, you shouldn’t just waste it and play it safe, or whatever it is you think you should be doing.”

The conviction in his tone is so clear, and Clarke wishes she could believe him. Truly, she does. Maybe one day she will, but as far as today goes, she doesn’t find that she can. 

So she remains quiet, her gaze focused on anything other than him, and sighs.

“It’s getting late, Bellamy.”

It comes out as hardly more than a whisper, but the intention is clear and Bellamy sighs in defeat at her dismissal.

He looks as though he wants to add something but he stops himself. He stands up looking away from her, agitation evident in the way he shrugs on his jacket and walks toward the door. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

He shows himself out and then Clarke is suddenly alone, the silence of the house engulfing her along with the wave of guilt and tension washing over her.

She hates this, not being on good terms with him. But she can’t help the way she feels, and Bellamy just has to accept it. She wishes she could see herself as worthy as he apparently does, but she doesn’t. It is somewhat comforting in some way though, that after everything Bellamy still wants to see the good in her, still wants to help, still cares as much as he does. But just like always, she feels like it’s wasted on her.

When Clarke pulls herself into bed that night, she still feels as though a heavy stone has settled in her stomach, and she’s not sure how long this one will stay.

——-

She and Bellamy seem to avoid each other over the next few days, and even though she’s very aware that she decidedly doesn’t meet him for meals and other miscellaneous activities, she hates it.

Clarke wishes they never had that stupid conversation, that she never caved and told him about her dream (even if she left out a pretty crucial detail), and that she never left her stupid sketches out for him to see.

But now things feel weird again, and even Madi keeps asking her if everything is okay. Clarke should have known that, being as sharp as she is, her daughter would notice the second Bellamy wasn’t around as much as he usually is.

It’s when she makes a quick trip into Sanctum and stops by to visit Delilah that Clarke grows concerned.

“What do you mean Bellamy was here?”

Delilah gives her an odd look, nodding. “Yeah, he stopped by the other day. He kept asking about the fortune lilies. Didn’t you tell him what I told you?”

Clarke can feel her blood run cold. “No. I didn’t.”

“That explains why he looked so weird,” the other woman mumbles as she fills a couple of glasses for some customers.

“He said he was worried about you after what happened when you found one. I guess he just thought they gave you weird dreams. But I told him the rest of the legends.”

Fuck. 

Fuck.

“He didn’t believe them, though, right?”

Bellamy is more practical than that. He wouldn’t believe some story about dreams of the future and nonsense like that, right? 

“He just said he was going to try to look for one and see for himself.”

So that’s where he’s been. Clarke wants to disappear. 

“Clarke, are you okay?”

She feels like she’s going to be sick, but sure, she’s fine. Her best friend and man she’s in love with found out about their secret future child, so she’s fucking peachy.

“I...I’m not sure.”

Delilah gestures for her to sit down and offers her a glass of some strong smelling concoction, claiming it will help with whatever is bothering her.

“You want to talk about it?”

Clarke feels overwhelmed, too many different emotions threatening to consume her all at once, and she feels like she could easily start crying right then and there.

“He’s going to hate me,” she whispers, looking into the berry colored liquid before taking a drink. “He’s never going to look at me the same way again.”

“Who? Bellamy? Clarke, I think he’s the last person who could ever hate you based on what I’ve seen. And I’ve only known you guys for a few weeks.”

She shakes her head. “No, Delilah, you don’t get it. This ruins everything. He’s… Remember what I told you about my dream?”

The other girl nods. “Yeah. You said you think you had a son, right?”

“A son that looked just like his father,” Clarke says with a groan before pinching the bridge of her nose. She can already feel a headache coming on. Great.

A beat. “...Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if it helps, he didn’t seem upset or disgusted or anything of that sort.”

Clarke looks up at her. “He didn’t?”

Delilah shakes her head. “No. He got quiet and looked kinda thoughtful for a minute, and then he stormed out of here saying he was going to go find one.”

So Bellamy wasn’t mad. At least not in that moment. But it could have been from shock, Clarke thinks. Maybe he went off looking for the flower to prove his future was different than what she saw. Maybe he was going to try to change his future somehow. 

Clarke is torn. On the one hand, she wants to find him, to fix everything, to somehow just forget all this future business and just go back to how they were before. Even if she couldn’t have the future she saw in the dream, she’d give it all up to keep her friendship with Bellamy in a heartbeat. But on the other hand, she can’t help but feel like she needs to run away and never look him in the eye ever again.

She’s good at that, running. It’s certainly so much easier than the alternative.

——-

“Don’t trail too far behind me, guys. I’m hoping we find it somewhere around here,” Bellamy calls out behind him.

Murphy has been skeptical about this entire thing since Bellamy’s suggested it, and Jordan just looks nervous, not sure if something was going to jump out from behind the bushes and attack them. Stranger things have happened. However, Bellamy’s thoughts are focused elsewhere.

He can’t stop thinking about Clarke. Now he understands everything. Why she’s acted so odd around him since that day, why she keeps sketching that one boy’s face. The boy that Delilah let slip wasn’t only Clarke’s son probably. Bellamy needed to see if those nagging little thoughts in the back of his mind were right. He needed to see if he saw the boy, too. 

That’s why they’re here, scouting Sanctum’s wilderness. 

“Bellamy, we’ve been looking for hours. I’m tired and I want to go have dinner before the bugs decide we’re their dinner,” Murphy growled, kicking a branch out of his way.

“C’mon Murphy, aren’t you at least a little curious to see if it’s true?” asks Jordan.

“I really don’t care,” he grunts. “I don’t need a fucking flower to tell me anything.”

“Quit your complaining, Murphy, we’re almost there,” Bellamy snaps, throwing a glare at his friend.

“Couldn’t you get Clarke a rose or something like a normal person?”

“I told you, it’s not for Clarke. It’s for me. I need to see what it shows me ,” he replies as he approaches a clearing that looks familiar. It isn’t too far now. Bellamy thinks he can faintly hear the river in the distance.

“Do you even hear yourself? Nothing can tell the future, Blake. Especially a damn flower.”

“But Delilah said it’s true,” Jordan adds, stepping over a large root. “And she—“

“She could be fucking with us, Jordan! I still don’t trust any of these people. I know you think she’s perfect but—“

“Enough!” Bellamy exclaims loudly, his voice gruff with annoyance. “We’re just about there and I need you two to stop arguing so you can help me.”

The rest of the journey is mostly quiet, save for a few grumblings and what Bellamy thinks is them shoving each other occasionally, but he doesn’t pay them much attention. He has a mission.

A few minutes later, he recognizes the area where he found Clarke and waves the others over. 

“Alright, be on the lookout. Delilah said it’s white and might be glowing a little bit, and that it’s usually by itself.”

Murphy and Jordan nod their agreement, and after a few more minutes of searching, Jordan calls Bellamy over toward where he was searching along the river.

And then Bellamy sees it: nestled in some long grass by a tree, white long petals that resemble silk and an odd yet beautiful faint glow to its edges. This is it. 

“So you just have to touch it?” Jordan asks, and Bellamy shrugs.

“I think so. We’re about to find out,” he replies before approaching the beautiful flower.

“Have a good nap,” Murphy retorts.

Bellamy rolls his eyes, then gently touches the flower, sitting down beside it. He’s about to tell his friend to shut up, but he suddenly feels lightheaded and drowsy, and a moment later sleep washes over him.

——-

It’s not exactly like how he had anticipated. He doesn’t feel as grounded as he usually does in dreams, and he’s not entirely sure if this is a dream or something else entirely. Why was he here again? Bellamy has the faintest memory that maybe he was meant to be looking for something or someone, but he’s not certain.

It’s as if he’s watching a movie rather than experiencing everything around him himself, but he can still somehow feel the warm hand that slips into his own and interlaces their fingers.

“Welcome home,” a familiar voice murmurs, and the foggy shape before him forms into familiar blonde hair and blue eyes he’d recognize anywhere.

The young woman leans up and presses a kiss to his lips, lacing the fingers of her free hand in his curls, and Bellamy is frozen somewhere between shock and pure happiness before dream-him responds to the kiss with vigor, smiling against her lips.

“Hey. If that’s how you greet me after being gone only for a couple of extra hours, I should do it more often.”

She smirks and pushes at his chest. “As if I don’t do that every time you leave home.”

Bellamy hears a shuffling behind him and when he turns around, his breath catches in his throat.

“Is Dad back yet?”

The young boy can’t be more than six or seven, wiping his eyes as he lets out a yawn, his other hand clutching a blanket that he drags beside him.

“Just got home,” Bellamy tells him, smiling softly at his son. “You should go back to bed, Gus.”

The boy nods before coming over to briefly give his father a hug, his arms only able to come up and wrap around his waist, and Bellamy ruffles his hair before the boy pads back to his room.

“Eli and Athena wanted to stay up too, but they couldn’t keep their eyes open,” Clarke tells dream-Bellamy in amusement.

“They—“

And suddenly he feels odd again, as if a fog is washing over him. Clarke’s features are blurring before his eyes, and a moment later she’s evaporating right in front of him.

“Clarke? Wait! No, come back!”

He reaches forward but the mist that was Clarke just a moment ago slips through his fingers, and now the house is fading around him as well.

“Stop! Come back!”

“Come back!”

Bellamy is panting when he sits up, grasping anything he can get his hands on to steady himself, which turns out to be the cool dirt underneath him.

Jordan is beside him in an instant, looking concerned as he grabs Bellamy’s arm to help support him.

“Bellamy, it’s alright. You were dreaming, remember?”

Dreaming. Yes, of course. That sounds familiar. 

“Right...Yeah. A dream,” he murmurs, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead, and he realizes he woke up in a cold sweat.

Cold sweat.

Clarke. She was in the dream. But she felt so real. He could feel her hand in his, and her lips on his skin, and—

Gus . The boy she’s been drawing for weeks. He saw him. Exactly the way she drew him but younger.

Bellamy feels like he’s going to pass out again.

“We have to go home. Right now.” He needs to talk to Clarke.

Murphy finally saunters over and helps him up with a raised brow. “So you’re not going to tell us what happened? Is the future that bad?”

Bellamy shakes his head and pushes past Murphy and Jordan. “Later. We just need to go home. And no, it’s not bad at all.”

——

When Clarke got back to the village she had run into Emori, who told her that Murphy had gone on some kind of outing.

“Bellamy asked him to go help look for some plants or something. I figured he went to look for them for you. He didn’t tell you?”

Clarke had closed her eyes and taken a deep breath, then thanked Emori for telling her before waving goodbye. 

Now she’s sitting at home wondering what on earth she’s going to tell Bellamy when he gets back.

Maybe he couldn’t find it. According to Delilah, the lilies were supposed to be rare. Maybe Bellamy had forgotten the location where Clarke found the flower that day. Or it had wilted since then.

She tries to keep busy, cleaning and picking up what she can around the cabin, making dinner for her and Madi even though it’s still at least an hour too early before the young girl comes home.

Maybe Bellamy won’t come over at all. Maybe Clarke is just overthinking this entire mess and they’re just going to go on as if nothing ever happened, and the stupid flower didn’t exist, and it was all just a funny story they can tell people in a few years. 

Yes. That’s what will happen, she thinks... hopes?

The second sun has already started to set when Clarke is startled by a pounding on the door, and her blood runs cold.

“Clarke? Are you home? I need to talk to you.”

Bellamy sounds different, more exasperated than usual, and her heart starts beating ten times faster. Maybe she can just pretend she’s not home and—

“Clarke, I see the light on. Please. Can we talk?”

Damn it.

She quietly pads over to the door, taking a deep breath before she unlocks it and cracks it open, peering at a frazzled looking Bellamy Blake.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he breathes. His eyes are wide when he finally sees her. 

Clarke tries to go for a casual tone when she asks: “Is everything okay?” 

Bellamy opens his mouth to reply but the words get stuck in his tongue. She raises a brow.

“Um, yeah. Can I come in?”

She nods and opens the door further, allowing him to enter. Clarke is getting so nervous that she begins to wring her hands together.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asks when he notices, and she does her best to give a noncommittal shrug.

“Yeah. Perfectly fine.”

They stand there in awkward silence for a moment before Bellamy suddenly looks determined and walks into the living area, straight for her sketchbook that’s lying on the coffee table.

“Bellamy, what are you—“

“Gus. His name is Gus,” he murmurs as he flips to the pages with sketches of the boy from her dream.

Clarke stops midstep, feeling as though the world has suddenly stopped. 

“What?”

Bellamy studies the drawing, gently running his fingers over the lines of the boy’s face. “That’s what we called him. But he looks older in your sketches. Just a couple years older.”

This can’t be happening. She must have misunderstood. “Bellamy, what are you talking about?” she whispers.

He finally looks up at her, at least a dozen emotions flickering in his eyes. Happiness. Confusion. Determination. Hope.

“I saw him, Clarke. He was right there,” he says, gesturing toward the front door. “I got home late one night and he hugged me. He was...perfect. And you were there, too. It was perfect.”

His voice cracks on the last words, his gaze filled with emotion as he looks to her, pleading with her to understand.

But this can’t be happening. It’s too crazy.

Clarke speaks slowly, afraid that anything louder could shatter the delicate moment they find themselves in. “Bellamy, it was just a dream.”

“No, Clarke! It wasn’t! And how do you explain both of us seeing him?”

“You saw my sketches,” she explains, her eyes welling with tears. “You saw them and it influenced what you saw.”

He shakes his head. “No. Then I wouldn’t have seen him younger. I would have seen him at the same age that you drew him.”

“This still doesn’t make any sense, Bellamy. You can’t possibly tell me you believe in this? In this—Sanctum fairytale?”

“What if I do?” he challenges, taking a step toward her.

Her breath catches. “Bellamy, I...What do you want me to say?”

Setting his jaw, Bellamy marches over to her, closing the distance between them and gently placing his hand on the back of her neck before pressing his lips to hers.

Clarke is pretty sure she stops breathing, maybe waiting for the moment where she wakes up and this was all a cruel dream. But that moment never comes, and Bellamy is still kissing her. 

When he doesn’t feel her respond to the kiss, he starts to pull away. That’s when Clarke comes back to her senses and pulls him back to her, deepening the kiss. 

Bellamy jumps right back in without missing a beat, and Clarke parts her lips, letting out a soft moan when he finally licks into her and his other hand grips her waist.

They continue this for another few minutes before they pull away to catch their breath. Bellamy leans his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed, and Clarke can see his dark lashes contrast against his tan skin and the freckles scattered along his cheeks.

“That was good,” Bellamy murmurs when he finally opens his eyes, Clarke finds amusement there, along with a smirk on his lips, and she can help but grin, too.

“Yeah. Might have to do that more,” she murmurs as she runs her hands over his chest, lightly clutching onto his shirt.

“Definitely have to do that more,” he agrees, pressing his lips to hers again, more chaste this time before also pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Been wanting to for a while.”

Clarke’s heart skips a beat. “A while?”

Bellamy nods, moving his hand down to match the other so it rests on her hip. “Yeah. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“But, the dream…”

“What? You think I only kissed you because of the dream?”

When she doesn’t answer, he continues. “Clarke, I’ve felt this way about you for a long time, flower or no flower, dream or no dream.”

Oh.

“So you didn’t freak out when Delilah told you the truth?” She asks tentatively.

He chuckles and pulls back so he can talk to her properly. “I mean, I was surprised, don’t get me wrong. And I didn’t know if it was even true, but I wanted to see for myself. I wanted to know if we’d see the same thing.”

Bellamy seems so much calmer than she had been, but she had also been carrying the secret around much longer than he had. And she did kiss him back, so she can see why he would feel more confident than she had.

“...And?”

Bellamy leads them over to her couch, hands still clasped together as he seems as if he’s trying to remember.

“I was coming home late for some reason. But I had just come in and you were there greeting me. You kissed me. And then this little boy came in from the other room, half asleep, asking if I was home yet. He hugged me, then I told him to go back to bed because it was late. You…”

He hesitates, but Clarke’s head is still swirling from what he’s just told her. It sounds so peaceful. So perfect. And their son…

“What? What else did I do?”

Bellamy looks away, sheepish, and runs a hand through his hair. “You sure you want to know? It’s not bad, I promise,” he quickly adds.

When she nods, he takes a deep breath and continues. “You mentioned some other names. Two more.”

It takes Clarke a moment to understand what he means, and when she does her eyes widen in shock.

Two more. Three. They have three children.

She doesn’t even feel it right away but Bellamy is suddenly reaching up to gently wipe her cheeks with his fingers, tears falling on them and onto her lap.

“Clarke? Hey, are you okay? Shit, I shouldn’t have—“

She quickly shakes her head. “No! I’m fine, I promise,” she says with a shaky chuckle. “I’m just...I can’t believe it.”

“Me either,” Bellamy sighs in relief, but then suddenly looks down, more hesitant. “But I mean, we don’t...not if you don’t want this.”

Clarke blinks, a few stray tears falling onto her cheeks as she watches him. “Don’t want this?”

“Yeah. This...Or me.”

It’s odd, Clarke thinks. Ever since that fateful day by the river, that particular thought never entered her mind. Was she nervous? Absolutely. She never thought she could ever be fortunate enough to have an actual future, much less one with Bellamy, where she’s just happy. She never thought she would be enough to make him happy either, and that was even more terrifying. What if she couldn’t give him everything he needed, everything he deserved? 

But she never once thought that she didn’t want him. She wanted him with every fiber of her being.

Her eyes soften as she takes Bellamy in: her best friend, that is so worried about what she wants and what would make her happy, even if it meant giving up his own happiness. Clarke truly loves him, in every sense of the word.

She gently tilts his face toward hers and leans forward, pressing her lips to his, making sure to pour as much as she can into it before slightly pulling away.

“I love you. And I want this. I want you . No matter what the future brings.”

Bellamy beams at her, putting his arms around her shoulders to pull her to his chest, and Clarke instantly melts against him. She can feel him press a kiss against her hair.

“I love you, too. And yeah. No matter what the future brings.”