Not my story
Day 1
"I'm late," Clarke tells him in the morning, before he's about to set out on the daily security patrol. And he recognizes the look on her face: the furrowed brows, the lips pressed tightly together. It's the look she gets when she's trying to extend the rations of ten people to twenty, the one she has when attempting to manage the alliance between another Grounder clan. It's the look Clarke gets when she's presented with an obstacle she doesn't know how to solve. It's the look she has when she's silently asking for his help in making a decision.
Bellamy knows what she's asking him. He takes a minute to compose himself-Clarke doesn't do well with overt emotions when it comes to them. Never has, never will. And he knows that right now, she needs help with the tactical choice, not the one that ties his stomach in knots.
"Can I think about it?" He says, sliding his hand into hers for a quick moment, squeezing their fingers together.
Clarke nods, relieved, and squeezes back.
--
"Let's do it," Bellamy tells her that night, before they're about to fall asleep. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as she lies on his chest, pressing her tightly against him.
"Are you sure?" She asks his heartbeat.
"Yeah," he replies softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
They lay together in silence, unable to sleep but not feeling the need to talk about it further. For now.
Day 3
The Grounders have a different view of kids than them. Back on the Ark, births were planned things, organized. Couples (or mothers) had to apply for permits, file paperwork, and ideally would notify the Council at least a month in advance of trying to conceive. The Council would then allocate rations, prepare space in the nursery, and provide an additional family room to the housing unit if the family could afford it. When a baby was born, congratulations were delivered with a hollow tone of voice, tight smiles, and often conciliatory pats on the shoulder. Children, ultimately, meant a burden-on the Ark, on the family. Bellamy's family knew that better than most.
And while things have changed, not all habits go away. He and Clarke wouldn't be the first to have a child on the ground. That honor went to a newlywed couple, former botanical specialists now attempting to structure the community gardens. But it's still not common. The past three years have been centered on survival. Only recently have perspectives changed to building something.
But they try.
"Congratulations," Abby Griffin says, her smile tight and her words just a little strained as she washes blood from her hands after stitching up a tear in his shoulder, "You'll make a great father."
He's not sure what to do with the compliment (if it even is a compliment), but thankfully there's another crisis on the docket for Chancellor (hunting accident, lots of blood) and he slips out without having to give a reply.
"We've started arrangements for pre-natal care," Kane says, giving him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder before going to check on the electric wiring upholding the security fences.
The Grounders do things differently.
While the population of Grounders (mostly Trikru) that have integrated with the Arkers is small, they're still part of whatever Camp Jaha now stands for. As such, Bellamy knows most of them. And when they hear the news, it's...happy. Full smiles that show off teeth, hearty claps on the shoulder. Nyko even gives him some of his alcohol stores.
