Chapter Text
He’s read the same sentence at least sixteen times as he listens to the conversation happening at the counter. At first he hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. In fact, the only reason he got interested in the conversation to begin with is because he heard the girl behind the counter mention something about a clinical rotation. And with his sister finishing high school soon he is more interested in hearing about the opportunities their east-coast town has to offer for education.
Of course, convincing Octavia Blake that she needed to stay here in Walden, Massachusetts is a whole other battle. Anything short of a full-ride scholarship and a boy confessing his undying love — not happening anytime soon, Bellamy had all but scared any possible suitors away a long time ago — wasn’t going to keep his sister locked down here. He saw the posters on her wall and the college pamphlets atop her desk. She dreamed of the west coast.
And Bellamy’s stomach twists at the mere thought.
“Are you sure you don’t want help closing up?” The boy leaning against the counter nearly whines. It is more than Bellamy can do to keep from laughing at his obvious desperation. “I don’t mind. Then maybe we can head back to my pla—“
“You sure she won’t be there?” The blonde bites back with a venom Bellamy wouldn’t have believed possible from the seemingly calm-natured barista if he hadn’t just witnessed it himself.
Not that he really has anything to prove his snap judgment. He doesn’t actually know the girl. This was his first time in the coffeehouse that has been four blocks from his house almost his entire life. Well, it was just recently turned into a coffee shop — before that it had been some pottery place. And before that an international tie “emporium”.
Coffee was definitely more this town’s speed.
“Clarke, come on — I never meant — “
“Get out, Finn. I need to finish closing up.” She forces through gritted teeth as she continues to wipe down the espresso machines, but the shaggy-haired boy never moves. In fact, Bellamy is beginning to think maybe he has somehow super glued his ass to that stool in a lover’s protest. And this ‘Clarke’ must have gotten the same impression, because she turns around and finally faces him with finality. “Without you.”
The dejection releases the hold of the emotional glue and within moments of her statement the boy is sulking through the quaint establishment and out the front doors: the ring of the bell above the door being his final farewell. Leaving only himself, the barista — Clarke, and an older gentleman sitting toward the front of the shop.
Bellamy watches the door for a moment, almost half expecting the boy to swing back through to fight another day. He seems the final declaration of love type — even if it goes down in a blaze of glory. But he never comes back and then Bellamy remembers her mention something about closing up for the night. He started to gather his things when he hears a feminine giggle.
He looks up to see the blonde smiling at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. She is beautiful and the way her blue eyes light up when she is amused makes Bellamy believe that the coffeehouse-romancing boy is truly messed up in the head to cheat — or so he would believe from their little argument — on the likes of her.
“You don’t have to clean up just yet.” She says with a knowing smile, “I’ve still got plenty to do around here. I just wanted to do it without a lovesick shadow standing over me. You know?”
He does. Well, maybe not in the exact way she means it. But he’s ended his fair share of relationships before the other party was truly ready to part ways. And he can’t help but laugh at her candor. He nods, leaning back into his chair.
His intentions are to reopen his book, but suddenly Civil War history doesn’t feel like a topic he’s interested in at the moment — a feeling very foreign to Bellamy Blake.
Instead he stands, picking up his coffee mug and walking it the short distance to the counter. He placed the empty cup atop the copper-colored marble and watches as the girl sweeps behind the bar.
“Want help closing up then?” He offers and she glances up at him with a expression of surprise and disbelief. That’s when Bellamy realizes, with only slight embarrassment, just how much his words echo those from the earlier boy. He holds up his hands to signal his lack of defense. “I swear you don’t have to come back to my place after.”
She laughs again and jerks her head to signal for him to come around to the other side of the counter. Bellamy quickly rounds the corner as she tosses a rag his way, “Of course, your place is always open for discussion.”
She blanched before laughing at the teasing nature of his expression. Her laughter is infectious and Bellamy finds himself joining in before letting her direct him toward the nearest espresso machine. She instructs him quickly on how exactly the machine needed to be cleaned and the different pieces that need to be taken off and then placed back on. It is enough to make his head spin.
“I work on cars for a living — and I’m pretty sure this machine has more bells and whistles than my beat up pick-up truck.” Bellamy muses, watching as Clarke empties the used grinds. “I’m Bellamy by the way. Bellamy Blake.”
“Clarke Griffin.” She responds, thrusting her hand told him while using her free hand to turn on a nearby faucet.
He took her hand for a brief second before getting down to work. It was apparent this girl was all business and Bellamy wasn’t about to seem like a slack just because this was his first time even coming close enough to anything that wasn’t a Mr. Coffee coffeepot from Wal-Mart.
The two fell into a silent rhythm around the shop. Once Bellamy was finished with the espresso machine Clarke quickly realized his specialty wasn’t going to be the coffee wares and sent him to start turning the chairs up on the tables in the front of house; all except for the one with the gentleman at the front. The man didn’t even offer to move when Bellamy neared, which seemed almost odd or at least very inconsiderate, but Clarke just yelled across the shop that he could finish up his crossword if he wanted.
Once that task was finished she asked if he would go to the back and grab the mop and bucket. Bellamy nodded and headed into the small back room. And that’s when he heard the bell over the door ring. He had assumed the older gentleman must have finally left.
Bellamy makes his way out of the back and is just coming to the cash register when he looks up. Instead of seeing the empty table where the older gentleman had once been, another grey-haired man has now joined him at said table, but this one isn’t here to catch up with an old friend. He has a gun pointed straight at the other’s head.
Before he can react he feels a tug on his pant leg and looked down to see Clarke completely panicked at his feet. Without hesitation he ducks down next to her, hidden by the coffee shop’s counter. Her expression reads of complete terror and even though his emotions match, his protective instinct kicks in and he wraps an arm around her. He pulls her close to his side and she quickly wrapped herself around him.
No words pass between the two of them, Clarke’s head tucks into Bellamy’s chest and he can feel her shaking against him. His ears were honed in, for the second time that night, on a conversation he isn’t a part of. And his mind is going a mile a minute; chastising himself for leaving his phone sitting atop the table he was once at. They need an escape route — or does this new intruder even know they’re there?
Bellamy is in the middle of a silent, age-old flight or fight debate when he hears their harsh conversation come to a sudden end. One second the man sitting at the table is stuttering his pathetic plea for his life and then next the blast of a gunshot fills the air.
They both jump and Bellamy’s eyes slammed shut. He feels Clarke’s hand grip the material of his t-shirt as she almost-silently sobs. His own stomach turns and his mind tried to register what has just happened. His ears are ringing and his mind seems to go into a haze. Were they next? Was this man simply picking them off one at a time?
He barely hears the bell above the door ring once again over his thoughts. And at first Bellamy is afraid to move. What if it is a ploy to get them to come out from behind the counter? The man wants them assume they were safe, but he is just waiting to see the whites of their eyes before finishing them off.
But then nothing happened. No noise. No movement: just Clarke sitting beside him completely wrecked.
He finally gets the nerve to move, but Clarke grips on to him tighter. He looks down at her and gives her a silent nod. It’s not a lot, but he hopes he conveys some kind of comfort. He’s not going anywhere. He just needs to see what they’re dealing with.
“Stay right here.” He whispers and finally she agrees, losing her grip around him.
Bellamy slowly stands, realizing just how bad his knees are shaking. He steels himself, his jaw tight, as he turns around, half-expecting to be shot on the spot. But all he sees is the older man slouched over at the same table.
Except now he has a fatal gunshot to the head.
--
“Leave Walden?” Clarke’s blue eyes nearly pop out of her head and she leans forward onto the conference table.
“Fuck me.” Bellamy mumbles, his hand going over his face as he leans back farther into his chair.
“Yes. We’ve arranged for you to join the Witness Protection Program. You will be given new identities and will be relocated to another part of the United States.” The man — Office Jaha, according to his nametag — in front of them doesn’t even flinch as he all but literally throws their lives out the window.
For the first time since seeing that man get shot at the coffee house, Bellamy is beginning to think this whole thing was behind him. He had identified the man who had murdered that older gentleman in cold blood and testified to it. The man was now sitting behind bars for what Bellamy assumed would be the rest of his life. And just like that he assumed that this sudden and horrific chapter of his life was over.
But apparently it was just the beginning of a new one. A new fucking life.
Then the realization his him like a shock to the system.
“What about my sister?” He asks. “I’m all she’s got — I can’t just leave her.”
“She’s going with you.” Jaha says. “She’s been informed — to the extent she needs to be — and she’ll be meeting us here briefly.”
“She’s coming here?” Clarke interrupts. “Why would she need to come here?”
“Your flight leaves in four hours.”
“Fa — four hours.” She gasped like the wind has just been knocked out of her.
Bellamy’s eyes fall on her and actually take her in for the first time since this whirlwind has started. Her bright eyes are dull with dark circles under them. Her put-together appearance lacks its finishing touches and her once porcelain complexion looks as though she’s taken ill.
Her fingers run through her nearly tangled curls as she rests her head in her hands. She is processing in her own way, but Bellamy isn’t sure she’ll be sane by the time she boards her plane.
“I just don’t understand.” Clarke finally starts, thinking out loud. “You caught the guy. He was a scumbag, obviously. But he’s behind bars. We did our part. We should get some kind of reward not shipped off like some fucking care package.”
The circumstances aren’t ideal, but her honesty makes Bellamy smile as he looks down at the pale blue carpet below their shoes.
“Most of the details are classified and for your safety I will not disclose too much, but Daute Wallace is a powerful man.” Jaha looks from Clarke to Bellamy. “The type of man that doesn’t lose his power just because he’s stuck behind bars. Connections have probably already been made to hunt you two down — that is why you leave in four hours.”
“What the fuck is a ‘powerful’ man doing in Walden?” Bellamy asked.
“Vacationing with a pit stop in homicide, apparently.” Clarke muses; glancing back at him with what he thinks might be a glimpse of humor. But as soon as it appears it is gone as she looks back at Jaha. “So what, we leave until things settle down? How long? A month?”
“Indefinitely.”
The blow hits like a sucker punch to the gut. Bellamy and Clarke both sit in stunned silence as Jaha continues with the travel details. What they should pack and how they’d get their new identities once they arrived to their new location. Their new home. This whole situation is completely out of his control and that is not something Bellamy is used to. And he certainly doesn’t like it.
“Are there any other questions?” Jaha asks, and Bellamy can sense his insincerity with the question. Both him and Clarke just shake their heads and the officer gives a crud nod, “Alright. Your cars are out front to take you to your respective homes. Pack up and safe travels.”
And just like that he disappears, leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone with just themselves and their jumbled thoughts.
Bellamy is the one to stand first, adjusting his leather jacket and heading toward the door. When he realized Clarke hadn’t moved he finally glancing back at her. She just sits there, staring out the windows in front of her. She seems completely lost in thought and almost peaceful. If Bellamy didn’t know any better he would have thought she was almost okay with everything. Then again, he isn’t so sure he isn’t.
“Good thing I don’t have much I’m leaving behind.” He offers conversationally. He tries to keep his tone light and even smirks. It’s a stretch, but he’ll try anything.
But his mood changes when she finally looks at him and he sees a strange sadness was over her.
“Yeah. Me either.”
--
The flight is tense and quiet, except for the conversation Octavia insists on making in hushed tones. At first she’s all about her future self. She wants to know her “history” and what her name will be. She hopes they’re landing somewhere warm — and he hates to break it to her that they wouldn’t have been instructed to pack coats if that were the case. But finally, after many “That’s enough, O” comments from Bellamy, she subsides into reading her magazine.
Bellamy leans back in his aisle seat, going between trying to clear his mind and glancing toward the blonde who hasn’t stopped biting her nails since they boarded. She’s fidgety and it doesn’t take a genius to tell she’s nervous. Hell, they all are. But every question Octavia asks her is answered with a kind, conversational response. He appreciates her willingness and understanding to Octavia’s persistent questions. Something she does when she’s is nervous.
When they finally land, they’re all a little worse for wear and Bellamy can’t help but feel like a caged animal by the time he’s standing up to reach for their carry-ons.
“Welcome to Ark, Minnesota.” A voice over the intercom announces, “We hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Ark.” Octavia groans. “It just sounds like a place where modern civilization comes to retire.”
“Or die.” Clarke mumbles.
Bellamy and Octavia both laugh as he hands the blonde her bag. They make slow work of getting off the small plane and heading into the nearly nonexistent airport.
He’s almost positive the only flights that land in this airport are for hunting parties only. It’s small enough that those boarding nearly run over the people getting off the same plane. And if that wasn’t enough, there is literally a taxidermist’s dream in the middle of the luggage carousel.
“Is that a grizzly bear? In an airport?” Octavia asks, staring in amused awe at the life-size creature staring back at her with glassy eyes.
“Well yeah,” Clarke says, coming to stand next to her. “I mean because the elk without the bear would just be insanity.”
Octavia smirks at her and then looks over at Bellamy, “At least we got stuck with a funny one.”
Bellamy is just about to say something when he hears a rather nasally sounding voice calling out his name. Well, his last name.
He quickly turns from the two girls and sees a middle-aged woman making her way toward them. She has the pace of a woman on a mission and a welcoming smile that could probably brighten up the darkest day. Even with the red lipstick smudged across her front two teeth. Her brown eyes are magnetized by the glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose and her hair bottle-dyed brown hair looks like it hasn’t been styled since the eighties.
She’s a sight. But at least she’s welcoming.
“Blake?” She questions, closer to them now. “Are you Blake?”
“Um,” Bellamy glances from her to the two girls on his left. And then he nods, “Yeah, but I thought you —“
“Wonderful!” She claps her hands together with excitement before turning her attention to Clarke and Octavia. “Then you two beautiful ladies must be Penelope and Julia! We’re so very excited to have you! Do you know how long we’ve been looking for a history teacher here in Ark?”
They all just stand still. Trying not to look completely confused and utterly lost.
“Well, Mr. King.” She smiles sweetly, “Where are my manners? I’m Wanda; Mr. Kane, our principal, has sent me to show you around our little piece of heaven. And help get you, your wife, and sister settled into your new home.”
“I’m sorry, my wh—“ Bellamy starts, but is quickly quieted by Octavia’s elbow jabbing sharply into his stomach.
“I see you’ve got your luggage, so shall we?” Wanda grins as she turns on her heels and heads for the sliding doors, not bothering to wait for any of them to answer.
Octavia follows easily and Bellamy swears he hears her giggling, but Clarke and him are rooted in place. Neither of them says anything and they can’t be bothered to look at each other.
As soon as they walk out those doors they are officially Blake and Penelope.
And they are fucking married.