It caused an explosion. ( her voice trembles after that, because she hasn't admitted it to anyone, not yet; Hiro was there, she didn't have to tell him, and Katherine knew. ) I died. ( her voice grows tighter, and Clarke can feel the tears pricking at her eyes; her emotions are in overdrive. ) I woke up to Hiro holding my shard and Jason's. Katherine's blood- It was still in my system so it brought me back.
( she forces the calm back into her voice, taking a deep breath, another one, another one. Clarke won't go into the details, she won't tell him about the transitional state, about how she had to drink blood or die for real; she can spare him that. )
I'm not human anymore, Bell. ( she knows he's going to blame himself, she knows he is, because Bellamy is like her and takes responsibility for everyone. ) I'm sorry.
[It's every time he's gotten the wind knocked out of him before but worse. It's her same words echoing over and over, and over, each time choking him more and more. I died. He doesn't know how to breathe. His first thought is no, an iron refusal, like it's a joke, one in poor taste.]
[There's a wetness building in his eyes, but the kneejerk reaction is anger, because he knows that, he's familiar with that. It's a crutch. What he's angry at in particular is a mystery, but he shakes his head, hard and fast and his body backs up until he crashes into the wall behind him. This is a nightmare. He's dreaming. He's going to wake up and roll out of bed, he's going to make a pitstop at the outpost, he's going to train until his hands bleed.]
Clarke. [Her name is pleading and disbelieving on his lips. He shakes his head again, because she wouldn't do this to him if it weren't true, but he just - he can't.]
[She can't. She can't have died. He was never supposed to let that happen. The breath rushes out of him quickly, lungs gasping for air, and he slams his fist into the wall beside him, denting it and bruising his knuckles at the very least. He closes his eyes from the pain of it, and it doesn't - it doesn't settle him, but it helps him start to remember how to breathe.]
What the fuck? Fuck, Clarke - [She's in front of him. In theory, she's fine. But she's not. He's crying, but his expressions twists because it's easier to be angry than it is to feel hurt. And it hurts.]
( she can't help but wince away from his reaction, to take a step back, and in her fear, she winds up using her new speed to wind up half way across the room away from him by accident. that part she's still getting used to, along with- well, everything else.
she presses her back against the counter, reaching back to curl her fingers around the edges and stay there, if only to keep herself grounded to this, to the moment. her guilt feels so much bigger now, a crushing weight, and she can't help but feel terrible for all of it; she can already feel the grief of Jason having returned, mesmer having lost its effects once she died and came back, but now to load Bellamy's reaction on top of her grief-
her heart aches, and Clarke doesn't know what to do with it, with any of it. )
I didn't know! I didn't know that would happen, and I needed him. I needed him to come back. ( she still does, even now; she would rather try to reactivate his shard a hundred more times and fail a hundred more times than to think she has to give up on getting Jason back. ) I didn't want to die, Bellamy. I didn't want this.
[It honestly doesn't even faze him when she moves that fast; he barely registers it at first, because his chest feels like it's been ripped open. Clarke dying is unfathomable. It was impossible, because Bellamy would sooner die himself than let her fall first. He scowls, but it's not at her; it's at everything, at the ache inside him, the way he feels like he's going to throw up.]
Clarke. [He doesn't have a reason to keep saying her name, but maybe it's a pull. Like maybe if he keeps saying it, everything will be okay. Like repeating it out loud will fix it, or at least cut through everything else. Clarke..]
[Bellamy knows death is not permanent in the Drabwurld, not necessarily. But it doesn't make it any less real, not right now. Of course she wouldn't have wanted it, but it's a decision both so like and unlike her. He doesn't care what she needed, not when it ended like this. He can't forgive her for it.]
That was fucking stupid! [He hisses it out, too overwhelmed and blinded to think.] Clarke, you can't just risk yourself - you can't risk dying -
[Saying the word out loud sets something off in him, or rather, turns it off. His anger vanishes like smoke, and the guilt, the hurt, and the heartbreak consume him instead.]
[He hates Jason right now. For leaving, for pushing Clarke into this. He hates himself, for not being there. He sinks to the ground and bangs his head against the wall. His voice is much less aggressive, a lot more despairing as his vision blurs over completely.] That was fucking stupid.
It was stupid and I would have done the same thing if it was you. I'd do it again if it meant another chance at bringing him back. You can't tell me that you wouldn't risk everything if Octavia disappeared tomorrow, that you wouldn't do whatever it took to try and get her back.
( because even now, Clarke would return to the gem and try to reactivate Jason's shard if she was able to; she can't anymore, not with the lack of her own shard in her chest, but she would if it were possible. she'd do it every time, repeatedly, if there was even the smallest chance that what she was doing could bring Jason back to the Drabwurld; she'd do it for Bellamy, too.
she's trying to be sympathetic, trying to be understanding, but all of her emotions feel so much bigger than the rest of her right now that she might just winds up feeling conflicted. she's sad about her own death, disappointed that she failed in bringing Jason back, guilty that Jason's gone and Bellamy's devastated by her own mistakes. all of it is a chemical storm of feelings in her chest, and Clarke can't make sense of any of it right now. )
[Bellamy tries to think about all he'd risk for his sister, and he knows the list is endless, just like he knows the same list applies to Clarke. He knows he would die for either one of them, but he never really thought about what it would mean, for the other person, mostly because he never saw himself as important as they were. But the idea of Clarke doing it again, of dying again, it's too much.]
[He stays quiet. He knows he should be trying to reassure her, or comfort her, or something. He wants to. But he's stuck and so hurt, it's hard to take care of someone else when he doesn't even know where to begin for himself.]
No. You shouldn't have been. The last thing you needed was to see me die, Bellamy.
( it's the last thing Hiro needed, too, but she's dealing with the guilt of that the best she can. all of her feelings are stifling, and she focuses on them to process them as much as she can, but it's- not easy.
[She's right on some level, because even he can recognize what it might have done to him to see it. But she's wrong too, or at least, he thinks so - he could have stopped it, right? Somehow, someway. If he had been there, maybe it wouldn't have happened. The only thing he's ever wanted in the end was to keep people alive (which is darkly hilarious, with how many he's killed).]
[It doesn't stop him from feeling guilty. It's heavy in his chest, even though she's standing right in front of him. Death follows him everywhere. He just never thought it'd be Clarke's too.]
[She's too far though. He feels like he's going to collapse into himself. His voice is both hollow and wrecked when he asks.]
( the last time he asked for her like that, her hands had just caused the Shuck to be summoned to eat a Cultist, and she was pulled form her own grief to support him. she wonders if it's much the same this time, if processing her death, what she is now, will have to be pushed back in order to get Bellamy through this.
she's hesitant to move, to go to him, not only for being unknowing as to if she can be a support right now, and realizing that his pulse and heartbeat will be that much more prevalent in such a close proximity. but Clarke is Clarke, and denying the people closest to her anything has always been difficult.
pushing away from the counter, she crosses the kitchen to him, still leaving some distance between them as she drops to her knees and settles back on her legs, hands set atop her thighs. she doesn't know if she can do this part, she isn't sure where her own amount of devastation ends to know how to support Bellamy through his.
[It's the distance she keeps that really makes him take note of her hesitation. His heart is racing, and everything still hurts, but it's her hesitation that - it doesn't put a pause on anything he's feeling, but it makes it easier to control.]
[She died. She died. It's so overwhelming to think of, but she's the one who died. There's so much she's been through lately, and he needs her, but it can be a little ignored, for now. He's been ignoring it enough the last few weeks that it's familiar to stomp on it. None of that changes the fact that he thinks she was unbelievably stupid, or how he has no capacity to forgive her for it. But it does allow him to really look at her since he teleported home.]
[Slowly, he reaches out and sets his hands on top of hers, practically covering them whole on her legs. His knuckles sear with pain, but he doesn't think the damage is worse than a fracture at most, and not even all his fingers. Just as slowly, he turns them over and takes her hands in his own, cradling them gently; the bruised hand is stiff in his grip but no less tender.]
[Her hands are warm. He can hear her breathing, and even though he can still hear her saying I died, she's alive in this moment. Bellamy hasn't stopped crying, but it's far less wild, far less hysterical. It's touching her more than any words she's offered, this quiet reminder that she's still here, that - well, it doesn't fix anything. But it's steadying.]
( the bruising on his hand is obvious, and Clarke uses a cure spell without much thought in order to heal his hand of the fracture. there's no real physical response to him taking her hands, but the close proximity of him has the sound of his pulse louder, and Clarke's eyes turn to his neck for a moment, knowing where that pulse is coming from.
her breathing speeds up for a moment, and the veins around her eyes begin to form, irises turning black. she can hear his blood rushing through his veins and she's not hungry but she wants the blood and the need for it is overwhelming, rushing in her ears, deafening-
Clarke rips her hands from his and uses her new speed to move away, back pressed to the wall opposite him as she forces herself to breathe, silver irises returning, the veins around her eyes disappearing. she doesn't want to feed on anything right now, she doesn't need the blood, she doesn't want to hurt Bellamy. it's a mantra that continues on repeat in her head until she's steady again, taking a deep breath. )
[It's - pretty terrifying. There's no getting around that. The blackness of her eyes, the general reaction, and when she pulls away and moves with the speed, it's all a jolt that kicks into his fight or flight instincts. But it's not the scariest thing he's ever been faced with, and it's not nearly as scary as hearing her say I died, so the flight part is discarded.]
[Bellamy flinches anyway, when she pulls back, his hands curling up to stop himself from following after her like he wants to. He desperately hopes this isn't a permanent thing, that he has to stop touching her, but he doesn't know the first thing about - any of what's happening to her. Not that she's had time to become an expert either.]
[He doesn't trust himself to speak, mostly because it adds another layer to his overwhelmed, so he just nods at her. He doesn't take his eyes off her, worried and alarmed all at once through the fact that he still hasn't stopped crying, but the wetness over his face is something he's adjusted to.]
( Clarke gives herself a few seconds to relax, to adjust to the sound of beating hearts and rushing blood, and she breathes. she doesn't want to hurt him, she doesn't want to at all, and it's keeping that thought and remembering to breathe that has her standing up and moving back over to him.
she's cautious, still keeping some distance between them, but she settles down before him this time and holds her hands out to him. she won't take his, won't initiate, but she'll offer her own if he wants to continue touching her despite knowing just how terrifying she looked only moments before. )
I'm still figuring out how to control the... blood lust part of it. It's only been a day, it's, um- Going to take me a little while.
[The words bring a fresh wave of tears to his eyes, but he nods at her, trying to figure out what else he can do beyond nod. Maybe it was just another small reminder of what'd happened. Blood lust is a word that comes with so many connotations, but there's little room for interpretation in this context.]
[She holds out her hands, and there is a definite part of him that feels relief, because she wouldn't offer if it were dangerous to touch her. Still, it takes him a few long moments to unwind his hands, and another couple seconds to reach out for her. Every single survival instinct inside him warns against it, reminds him of how terrifying it was not so long ago. But it's Clarke. He refuses to give up on the idea that this isn't still her, because that means she really is dead. Clarke would never hurt him. He has to trust that, and he has to show her that, and he has to do this for his own sake, too.]
[His hands are shaking a little when he takes hers again, and his eyes flash to her face, hoping there isn't a repeat reaction. He blinks through more tears, stubbornly holding her hands and trying not to let his grip go too tight or desperate. He shifts from the wall, carefully, slowly, testing his ability to lessen more of the distance between them, despite how much his brain is screaming at him otherwise. But he's already done plenty of stupid things for Clarke Griffin.]
( her eyes stay the same this time with her focus now being on Bellamy, rather than his pulse, or the beat of his heart. it keeps her eyes normal, her hands steady, and while she's still trying to figure out how to grapple with just how big and overwhelming her emotions feel right now, at least she's found some level footing for the moment.
she's not entirely sure what to say, if she should say anything. most of it would be reciting what Katherine had told her, and that wouldn't likely help the situation any, but it's the safest topic, it feels like. because the rest of her thoughts collide into being devastated about dying, in knowing that even if she wanted to, she could never go home, that she died, she died-
beneath it all, her grief continues a steady hum, a whisper against the rest in the reminder that Jason is gone, she had failed, and died for nothing. )
[The quiet isn't helpful, it's heavy, but it doesn't make things worse, not right now. There's more he wants to do. He wants to take more than just her hands, but she's already warned him her control is a new, infant thing. Slowly, he moves his thumbs along her skin, the gesture as much for himself as it is for her.]
You need to tell me what's too much. [His voice is hoarse, scratchy, dry like he's been in the desert for days and still scared of what all of this means. He doesn't know what he's doing, and he's still feeling too much, but he ignores it in favor of focusing on her.]
[He drops one of her hands and lifts his, hovering up near her face like he wants to touch her cheek. It feels weird to ask, but he doesn't want to startle her across the room again, doesn't want to trigger it.] Is this okay -?
( the pulse in his wrist is very apparent, but with it keeping a little distance, she continues to breathe, continues to focus, and nods. ) It's okay. ( there's a moment of quiet, considering. ) Just- I'll just need you to ask before touching me for a little while, until I figure this out. Anywhere that would put me close to your pulse. So your wrists, or your neck.
( another deep breath is taken, Clarke calming even further. ) It won't be like this forever, I just need to get better at it. ( she's trying to give herself leeway, knowing it's only been a day, but it's difficult to not be hard on herself about it; she wants to have better control than this. )
[Too much about this keeps being unnerving. He hasn't stopped crying, and he's not really sure when he will. But he's patient, still, while she answers him, and it's a lot better than flipping his shit. He waits a few more seconds, then tucks his palm against her cheek, slowly. Everything about him is trying his best to be slow and careful.]
You don't have to be an expert right away. [He tries to sound both teasing and chastising, but his mouth is still dry so the effect mostly fails.]
[Bellamy knows what he saw. The flash lingers in his head, and he knows it's still there inside her. If he's scared, there's no way in hell Clarke isn't. That's the part that fuels him.]
I'm - going to lean in more, okay? [And he lifts his other hand in a silent question too, to do the same as before to her other cheek.]
( it's almost alarming, knowing that it's going to be the thrum of a pulse at either side of her face, and Clarke takes a moment to make sure her own heart rate is lower, calm, and she clears her throat. she can do this, she can. )
Just - tell me, if it's too much. [A lot of this is for himself, he can't deny that. Touching her steadies him, proves she is real and solid and alive. But it's for her too. He wants to be a comfort, but he doesn't really know how else to do it.]
[Gently, he takes her face in both hands. He doesn't move after that, giving her what he hopes is enough time to adjust. Something like this would have been an overwhelming gesture for him years ago, so he channels that slowness towards her, knowing he'd appreciate it in reverse.]
[And then even more slowly, fighting back against how terrified he is, how hurt he is, he leans in. If it's too much, he hopes he'll notice it, but she doesn't stop him, so at last he closes that distance and quietly presses his forehead to hers. His vision blurs over again, but it's the most steady he's felt since she told him to come home.]
[Clarke is alive. He needs to remember that as the most important thing right now, because otherwise he's not going to be able to handle any of it. She lived. As far as he's been able to tell, she's still herself inside, and that has to be the biggest part that matters. Holding her here and close, despite how potentially dangerous it is, enforces all that.]
( when Bellamy tells her to communicate if it's too much, she imagines that he doesn't mean it in the way that overwhelms her. because it isn't the sound of Bellamy's pulse on either side of her face, it isn't the rush of blood in his veins, it isn't the warmth of his closeness, it's that she's so suddenly reminded of Jason that something in her breaks.
she had been trying so hard to keep her hands tightly wound around her grief, pushing it down to a dull murmur, but in one movement, one touch, Bellamy unleashes it. because it's something Jason did with her many times, a gesture that was given often, and all she can think of is how much her chest aches in his absence, how half of her feels so very absent. her grief had been crippling when she was still human, but it feels amplified now, bigger than her entire person, and Clarke wonders how she's meant to keep it all inside of her.
hands lifting, her fingers curl around Bellamy's wrists, and the tears come quickly, hot down her cheeks, and the sob rattles in her chest. it's a desperate noise, a broken one, and Clarke's grip tightens on Bellamy, gripping him like a lifeline as she cries. )
I promised. ( her head ducks down, away from his, because even just staying like that hurts so much more than she wants to admit. ) I promised to protect him and I couldn't. I couldn't keep my promise. ( every part of her starts to tremble, hands shaking as she holds his wrists. ) I tried to bring him back and I failed and died and I can't try again. I can't bring him back. I promised.
[Bellamy knows what he might have done before when this happens. Even now, that instinct is there, to pull her in close and wrap his arms around her. Her grip on his wrists is telling and he knows what it means, and the sounds that escape her cut through his chest in a way different from before. This is everything she's been trying so hard to keep away.]
Clarke. You didn't break your promise. [He does his best to sound like there is no room for argument here, his tone doing a better job than his voice which still sounds damaged, like his throat's been torn. He cups her face a little tighter with one hand, enough to get his point across hopefully without being too much, and the other moves slowly and gently towards the back of her head, but he doesn't pull her up to look at him, not yet.]
What happened - what's happening, it's not something you can control, okay? It's not on you.
[The choice to test the shard is on her, maybe, but he doesn't see it as a failure or a broken promise. Just dangerous desperation, born out of things that aren't her fault.]
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( she forces the calm back into her voice, taking a deep breath, another one, another one. Clarke won't go into the details, she won't tell him about the transitional state, about how she had to drink blood or die for real; she can spare him that. )
I'm not human anymore, Bell. ( she knows he's going to blame himself, she knows he is, because Bellamy is like her and takes responsibility for everyone. ) I'm sorry.
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[There's a wetness building in his eyes, but the kneejerk reaction is anger, because he knows that, he's familiar with that. It's a crutch. What he's angry at in particular is a mystery, but he shakes his head, hard and fast and his body backs up until he crashes into the wall behind him. This is a nightmare. He's dreaming. He's going to wake up and roll out of bed, he's going to make a pitstop at the outpost, he's going to train until his hands bleed.]
Clarke. [Her name is pleading and disbelieving on his lips. He shakes his head again, because she wouldn't do this to him if it weren't true, but he just - he can't.]
[She can't. She can't have died. He was never supposed to let that happen. The breath rushes out of him quickly, lungs gasping for air, and he slams his fist into the wall beside him, denting it and bruising his knuckles at the very least. He closes his eyes from the pain of it, and it doesn't - it doesn't settle him, but it helps him start to remember how to breathe.]
What the fuck? Fuck, Clarke - [She's in front of him. In theory, she's fine. But she's not. He's crying, but his expressions twists because it's easier to be angry than it is to feel hurt. And it hurts.]
Clarke.
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she presses her back against the counter, reaching back to curl her fingers around the edges and stay there, if only to keep herself grounded to this, to the moment. her guilt feels so much bigger now, a crushing weight, and she can't help but feel terrible for all of it; she can already feel the grief of Jason having returned, mesmer having lost its effects once she died and came back, but now to load Bellamy's reaction on top of her grief-
her heart aches, and Clarke doesn't know what to do with it, with any of it. )
I didn't know! I didn't know that would happen, and I needed him. I needed him to come back. ( she still does, even now; she would rather try to reactivate his shard a hundred more times and fail a hundred more times than to think she has to give up on getting Jason back. ) I didn't want to die, Bellamy. I didn't want this.
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Clarke. [He doesn't have a reason to keep saying her name, but maybe it's a pull. Like maybe if he keeps saying it, everything will be okay. Like repeating it out loud will fix it, or at least cut through everything else. Clarke..]
[Bellamy knows death is not permanent in the Drabwurld, not necessarily. But it doesn't make it any less real, not right now. Of course she wouldn't have wanted it, but it's a decision both so like and unlike her. He doesn't care what she needed, not when it ended like this. He can't forgive her for it.]
That was fucking stupid! [He hisses it out, too overwhelmed and blinded to think.] Clarke, you can't just risk yourself - you can't risk dying -
[Saying the word out loud sets something off in him, or rather, turns it off. His anger vanishes like smoke, and the guilt, the hurt, and the heartbreak consume him instead.]
[He hates Jason right now. For leaving, for pushing Clarke into this. He hates himself, for not being there. He sinks to the ground and bangs his head against the wall. His voice is much less aggressive, a lot more despairing as his vision blurs over completely.] That was fucking stupid.
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( because even now, Clarke would return to the gem and try to reactivate Jason's shard if she was able to; she can't anymore, not with the lack of her own shard in her chest, but she would if it were possible. she'd do it every time, repeatedly, if there was even the smallest chance that what she was doing could bring Jason back to the Drabwurld; she'd do it for Bellamy, too.
she's trying to be sympathetic, trying to be understanding, but all of her emotions feel so much bigger than the rest of her right now that she might just winds up feeling conflicted. she's sad about her own death, disappointed that she failed in bringing Jason back, guilty that Jason's gone and Bellamy's devastated by her own mistakes. all of it is a chemical storm of feelings in her chest, and Clarke can't make sense of any of it right now. )
I'm sorry, Bellamy.
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[He stays quiet. He knows he should be trying to reassure her, or comfort her, or something. He wants to. But he's stuck and so hurt, it's hard to take care of someone else when he doesn't even know where to begin for himself.]
I should have been there.
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( it's the last thing Hiro needed, too, but she's dealing with the guilt of that the best she can. all of her feelings are stifling, and she focuses on them to process them as much as she can, but it's- not easy.
she exhales quietly, shoulders sagging. )
The explosion would have killed you, too.
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[It doesn't stop him from feeling guilty. It's heavy in his chest, even though she's standing right in front of him. Death follows him everywhere. He just never thought it'd be Clarke's too.]
[She's too far though. He feels like he's going to collapse into himself. His voice is both hollow and wrecked when he asks.]
Will you come here?
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she's hesitant to move, to go to him, not only for being unknowing as to if she can be a support right now, and realizing that his pulse and heartbeat will be that much more prevalent in such a close proximity. but Clarke is Clarke, and denying the people closest to her anything has always been difficult.
pushing away from the counter, she crosses the kitchen to him, still leaving some distance between them as she drops to her knees and settles back on her legs, hands set atop her thighs. she doesn't know if she can do this part, she isn't sure where her own amount of devastation ends to know how to support Bellamy through his.
but she's closer. at least she's closer. )
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[She died. She died. It's so overwhelming to think of, but she's the one who died. There's so much she's been through lately, and he needs her, but it can be a little ignored, for now. He's been ignoring it enough the last few weeks that it's familiar to stomp on it. None of that changes the fact that he thinks she was unbelievably stupid, or how he has no capacity to forgive her for it. But it does allow him to really look at her since he teleported home.]
[Slowly, he reaches out and sets his hands on top of hers, practically covering them whole on her legs. His knuckles sear with pain, but he doesn't think the damage is worse than a fracture at most, and not even all his fingers. Just as slowly, he turns them over and takes her hands in his own, cradling them gently; the bruised hand is stiff in his grip but no less tender.]
[Her hands are warm. He can hear her breathing, and even though he can still hear her saying I died, she's alive in this moment. Bellamy hasn't stopped crying, but it's far less wild, far less hysterical. It's touching her more than any words she's offered, this quiet reminder that she's still here, that - well, it doesn't fix anything. But it's steadying.]
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her breathing speeds up for a moment, and the veins around her eyes begin to form, irises turning black. she can hear his blood rushing through his veins and she's not hungry but she wants the blood and the need for it is overwhelming, rushing in her ears, deafening-
Clarke rips her hands from his and uses her new speed to move away, back pressed to the wall opposite him as she forces herself to breathe, silver irises returning, the veins around her eyes disappearing. she doesn't want to feed on anything right now, she doesn't need the blood, she doesn't want to hurt Bellamy. it's a mantra that continues on repeat in her head until she's steady again, taking a deep breath. )
Sorry- I'm sorry. I just need a second.
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[Bellamy flinches anyway, when she pulls back, his hands curling up to stop himself from following after her like he wants to. He desperately hopes this isn't a permanent thing, that he has to stop touching her, but he doesn't know the first thing about - any of what's happening to her. Not that she's had time to become an expert either.]
[He doesn't trust himself to speak, mostly because it adds another layer to his overwhelmed, so he just nods at her. He doesn't take his eyes off her, worried and alarmed all at once through the fact that he still hasn't stopped crying, but the wetness over his face is something he's adjusted to.]
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she's cautious, still keeping some distance between them, but she settles down before him this time and holds her hands out to him. she won't take his, won't initiate, but she'll offer her own if he wants to continue touching her despite knowing just how terrifying she looked only moments before. )
I'm still figuring out how to control the... blood lust part of it. It's only been a day, it's, um- Going to take me a little while.
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[She holds out her hands, and there is a definite part of him that feels relief, because she wouldn't offer if it were dangerous to touch her. Still, it takes him a few long moments to unwind his hands, and another couple seconds to reach out for her. Every single survival instinct inside him warns against it, reminds him of how terrifying it was not so long ago. But it's Clarke. He refuses to give up on the idea that this isn't still her, because that means she really is dead. Clarke would never hurt him. He has to trust that, and he has to show her that, and he has to do this for his own sake, too.]
[His hands are shaking a little when he takes hers again, and his eyes flash to her face, hoping there isn't a repeat reaction. He blinks through more tears, stubbornly holding her hands and trying not to let his grip go too tight or desperate. He shifts from the wall, carefully, slowly, testing his ability to lessen more of the distance between them, despite how much his brain is screaming at him otherwise. But he's already done plenty of stupid things for Clarke Griffin.]
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she's not entirely sure what to say, if she should say anything. most of it would be reciting what Katherine had told her, and that wouldn't likely help the situation any, but it's the safest topic, it feels like. because the rest of her thoughts collide into being devastated about dying, in knowing that even if she wanted to, she could never go home, that she died, she died-
beneath it all, her grief continues a steady hum, a whisper against the rest in the reminder that Jason is gone, she had failed, and died for nothing. )
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You need to tell me what's too much. [His voice is hoarse, scratchy, dry like he's been in the desert for days and still scared of what all of this means. He doesn't know what he's doing, and he's still feeling too much, but he ignores it in favor of focusing on her.]
[He drops one of her hands and lifts his, hovering up near her face like he wants to touch her cheek. It feels weird to ask, but he doesn't want to startle her across the room again, doesn't want to trigger it.] Is this okay -?
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( another deep breath is taken, Clarke calming even further. ) It won't be like this forever, I just need to get better at it. ( she's trying to give herself leeway, knowing it's only been a day, but it's difficult to not be hard on herself about it; she wants to have better control than this. )
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You don't have to be an expert right away. [He tries to sound both teasing and chastising, but his mouth is still dry so the effect mostly fails.]
[Bellamy knows what he saw. The flash lingers in his head, and he knows it's still there inside her. If he's scared, there's no way in hell Clarke isn't. That's the part that fuels him.]
I'm - going to lean in more, okay? [And he lifts his other hand in a silent question too, to do the same as before to her other cheek.]
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Okay. ( a beat, cautious. ) I'll do my best.
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[Gently, he takes her face in both hands. He doesn't move after that, giving her what he hopes is enough time to adjust. Something like this would have been an overwhelming gesture for him years ago, so he channels that slowness towards her, knowing he'd appreciate it in reverse.]
[And then even more slowly, fighting back against how terrified he is, how hurt he is, he leans in. If it's too much, he hopes he'll notice it, but she doesn't stop him, so at last he closes that distance and quietly presses his forehead to hers. His vision blurs over again, but it's the most steady he's felt since she told him to come home.]
[Clarke is alive. He needs to remember that as the most important thing right now, because otherwise he's not going to be able to handle any of it. She lived. As far as he's been able to tell, she's still herself inside, and that has to be the biggest part that matters. Holding her here and close, despite how potentially dangerous it is, enforces all that.]
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she had been trying so hard to keep her hands tightly wound around her grief, pushing it down to a dull murmur, but in one movement, one touch, Bellamy unleashes it. because it's something Jason did with her many times, a gesture that was given often, and all she can think of is how much her chest aches in his absence, how half of her feels so very absent. her grief had been crippling when she was still human, but it feels amplified now, bigger than her entire person, and Clarke wonders how she's meant to keep it all inside of her.
hands lifting, her fingers curl around Bellamy's wrists, and the tears come quickly, hot down her cheeks, and the sob rattles in her chest. it's a desperate noise, a broken one, and Clarke's grip tightens on Bellamy, gripping him like a lifeline as she cries. )
I promised. ( her head ducks down, away from his, because even just staying like that hurts so much more than she wants to admit. ) I promised to protect him and I couldn't. I couldn't keep my promise. ( every part of her starts to tremble, hands shaking as she holds his wrists. ) I tried to bring him back and I failed and died and I can't try again. I can't bring him back. I promised.
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Clarke. You didn't break your promise. [He does his best to sound like there is no room for argument here, his tone doing a better job than his voice which still sounds damaged, like his throat's been torn. He cups her face a little tighter with one hand, enough to get his point across hopefully without being too much, and the other moves slowly and gently towards the back of her head, but he doesn't pull her up to look at him, not yet.]
What happened - what's happening, it's not something you can control, okay? It's not on you.
[The choice to test the shard is on her, maybe, but he doesn't see it as a failure or a broken promise. Just dangerous desperation, born out of things that aren't her fault.]