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So Much Closer

There are three types of reunions for Bellamy and Clarke.

a/n: Contains spoilers for the S4 finale. This three-pronged-reunion was something I mentioned in a conversation with @notyourdaisybuchanan, and thus: this fic. Title from Transatlanticism.

The first time Clarke sees him again, she can’t breathe.

His hair is sheared short, his shoulders thinner, but the way he carries himself as he disembarks the Eligius ship is unmistakable, even with the shackles binding his wrists and ankles. He scowls at the man in a uniform who pushes him down the ramp, and that’s familiar, too.

Clarke is crouched close to the drop of the cliff face, rifle by her side, and all the air catches in her lungs when Bellamy turns her direction. The people around him are staring at the sky, the burned twigs and new foliage just beginning to sprout, squinting against the light of the sun, but he’s scanning the treeline methodically, eyes shifting closer and closer to her little patch of green. Her chest feels like a balloon filled to bursting, so tight it’s painful.

She crawls as far out on the ledge as she safely can, pulled by the same string tied tight around her heart, and watches the light glance off his cheekbones. A sharp bite to her lip just barely keeps her from crying out when he looks at the space she’s hunched among the brush and suddenly halts. He stands stock still for a moment, his eyes so wide that Clarke would swear she could see the whites even from this distance.

When was the last time she took a breath?

A woman with a baton comes up behind him and nudges his back. He stumbles forward, eyes yanked to the rocky path, and all the air rushes out of her in a whisper.

“Bellamy.”

It sounds too loud in the calm of the grove and she slinks back, letting a branch fall in front of her face. She can still see him crane his neck around as the line keeps walking, a chain of people filing out behind him, his eyes searching the spot where she stood.

Clarke lets herself watch for one heartbeat more, then turns back towards the rover. The path weaving amongst the tree trunks doesn’t take much of her focus anymore and she’s grateful for the familiarity now.

They have work to do.

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