STORY CREATED BY hellsbellsbellamy
5:00
You stopped fidgeting with your ring as you watched the clock strike five. You closed your eyes and smiled, renouncing your inherent nervousness with a mental mantra of "there's nothing to worry about." Everything was going according to plan; you received your father's blessing, bun was in the oven baking, and Bellamy would be showing up any minute now to sign the marriage license. In fact, things were going much better than you had ever imagined as the hours leading up to this moment had only been filled with wonderful surprises. Your fretting was for naught. So you waited expectantly on the man you would devote your future to, delighting in the thought of spending your first night together as Mr. and Mrs. Blake.
5:30
Bellamy was late again. You remained optimistic, blaming his tardiness on a delay at work. You told yourself that he probably just clocked out late, that he went home to shower – because there was no way he would get married reeking of ark garbage – and he was most likely headed your way right now.
You smoothed the wrinkles from your dress as your heels clicked back and forth in front of the registrar's office. You looked down the hall anxiously, hoping to find your groom-to-be rushing towards you. Instead, you found two guards hurrying in your direction. You took a quick glance to your left and then to your right, wondering where the guards could possibly be headed, and then you realized that you were standing alone.
The guards approached you and one of them spoke.
"Miss Y/N, please come with us."
"No, I can't," you protested. You were immediately on the defensive, thinking that your father had gone back on his word and this was just another plot to stop you from wedding your beloved. "Tell my father, it'll have to wait."
"Your father has been shot."
"Wh-what?" you stuttered.
The cold gray walls seemed to shrink and expand in rapid succession as the guards' faces blurred in front of your eyes. You felt light on your feet and soon realized you weren't standing at all. You lost your balance, the shocking statement knocking you off of your feet, and the guards were on either side of you holding you up.
One of the guards was fanning you as he pushed you back onto your feet.
"Miss y/n, are you okay?" he asked repeatedly.
The guard's question was drowned out by the whirlwind of inquiries that swarmed your mind like a plague of locusts. You were worried about your father's well-being; was he alive, what was his condition, would he survive? Then there was Bellamy. Where was he? What was taking him so long? He would be so disappointed if you weren't here waiting when he arrived.
Even in this time of crisis you looked around, hoping that Bellamy would appear at any moment, but he didn't. There was no one coming down that hall, not a soul.
"Please take me to my father," you said, your eyes lingering on the empty passage. Postponing your wedding day was the last thing you wanted, but you couldn't wait for Bellamy forever. You needed to be by your father's side.
The guards escorted you to Ark station medical where Dr. Griffin was performing emergency surgery on your father. The procedure was taking hours and no one was giving you any information on the stability of his condition. You took the silence as a bad sign, figuring that your father's chance of survival must have been pretty low, so you waited to hear the bad news from the doctor herself.
Guards were patrolling the area, busily searching for the shooting suspect in order to detain them. They were running a tight ship; no one was allowed on the premises except for family and authorized personnel. You weren't even allowed to leave their sight until they were sure that the threat was neutralized because danger for your father also meant danger for you.
To make matters worse, there was still no word from Bellamy. It was now close to eight o'clock, which was nearly three hours past your scheduled meet up, and you weren't sure when you would actually get the chance to see him again. It was awful not being able to tell him what was going on. He must have been so worried about you and even more, you craved his support in this time of fear and uncertainty. You could very well lose your father tonight and you needed Bellamy's strength to hold you together in this pressing moment.
When Dr. Griffin finally entered the waiting room, you still weren't ready for the harsh reality of having your father leave this world. Thankfully, that wasn't a truth you had yet to realize.
"He's expected to make a full recovery," Dr. Griffin said, gently rubbing your arm.
"Thank you," you said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much."
Dr. Griffin informed you that your father was currently resting in the post-anesthesia care unit, but he wasn't awake yet. She hoped that maybe if he heard your voice it would coax him to open his eyes.
You entered the recovery room and found your father lying in a hospital bed. He was connected to an IV, a nasal cannula wrapped around his head, and various wires that extended to monitors were attached to his torso. You had never seen him look so weak before, so brittle and it scared you.
It grieved you to think that your child could grow up without any living grandparents. Sure, Bellamy had a lot of experience from raising Octavia, but you knew nothing about child-rearing. You would both be brand new parents and would make a lot of mistakes without proper guidance. Your father wasn't perfect, but he raised you singlehandedly and you valued his wisdom. You needed his experience to help maintain a healthy growing environment for your child.
You took your place by your father's bedside. You gripped his cold hand in yours as you spoke. "Dad, you have to wake up," you started in a breathy tone. You placed his limp hand against your stomach. "This kid is going to need a grandpa like you around."
You felt his hand twitch and watched gratefully as his eyes opened to the sound of your voice. He stared back at you through hooded eyelids and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, confirming that he'd heard every word you said.
The relief you felt quickly passed away as you realized that your father's shooter was still on the loose and you desperately needed to get to the bottom of this unfortunate occurrence. Now that your father was awake, he could tell the guards who the perpetrator was and they could apprehend them immediately.
"Dad, who did this to you?" you asked, leaning in close to him.
You saw his smile hastily vanish as he remembered his attacker's face. His tired eyes stretched open and his pupils dilated. His expression was petrified and eerie as if he was staring directly into the eyes of the devil. The sound of his shallow breathing and the beep of the heart rate monitor seemed to increase in volume as you waited for his answer.
"You don't have to worry, sweetie," Thelonious replied hoarsely.
Just then two guards entered the room, undoubtedly seeking the same information that you were after. They greeted your father with a firm "sir" as they stood at attention.
Your father squeezed your hand and the tension in his face lightened. "Go home and rest," he finished.
You exited the room, allowing your father to speak in private with the guards, but your curiosity was getting the better of you. You left the door cracked behind you, holding your ear close to the opening so that you could listen in on their conversation.
You overheard a guard speaking in a muffled voice. "Sir, the only person unaccounted for is Bellamy Blake."
"It was him," Thelonious responded quickly. "He was the one who shot me."
That couldn't possibly be right. You had to be mistaken, probably misunderstanding their hushed words. You continued to listen as they conversed about a dropship launch that they were trying to keep under wraps. They had sent 100 delinquents to the ground to test Earth's livability and one of those 100 was Bellamy's younger sister, Octavia. Once again they said Bellamy's name, confirming the fact that they were sure he had stowed away on the ship, making passage to the ground.
You didn't want to believe it, but everything was starting to make sense. Your father's hesitancy and Bellamy's sudden absence, all began to add up. Still, shooting your father and fleeing to the ground? These weren't the actions you expected from the man you loved. This didn't sound like Bellamy at all. You were sure that his love for you exceeded his distaste for your father, so how could he do this to you? How could the man who promised to spend the rest of his life with you be responsible for such a heinous crime?
You felt your chest caving in on itself when, suddenly, a guard touched you on the shoulder. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you quickly shut the hospital room door. The guard was there to escort you home, so you followed him, dragging your feet and leaving a lingering trail of sorrow with every step.
You pushed open the front door of your apartment, knowing that Bellamy wouldn't be there to greet you on the other side. Without offering your security chaperon a goodbye or even a goodnight, you slammed the door behind you. You stubbed your toe on Bellamy's tool bag as you tried to move forward. He was always leaving that damn thing in the walkway. You shoved it out of the way with your foot and you realized that if his bag was there then he had come home at some point before he committed the act of attempted murder. You still weren't sure what this meant. Was this a last minute decision or had he been planning it all along? You tried to shake the overwhelming thoughts from your head as you continued onward.
You made your way to the small master bedroom and found an outfit lying across the bed, a clean t-shirt and pair of trousers. It was probably what Bellamy intended to put on once he returned home from work. Why would he prepare this attire if he only planned to leave you standing at the altar? Was this all for show, just some kind of sick joke to get you to feel sorry for him? You felt like you were losing your mind as the questions continued to stack up. The more you thought, the angrier you felt and nothing was helping you reconcile your feelings.
You reached under the bed and pulled out an old sewing kit. You rummaged through the mounds of thread and thimbles until you found a large pair of scissors. Your eyes snapped back to the shirt and pants lying on top of the covers, eyeing them with a hateful glare. The shirt was first; you snatched it into your hands and cut it to shreds. The pants were next, violently ripping and tearing at each seam. You started taking out all of Bellamy's personal belongings – clothes, books, and electronics – and destroying them. You ran back to your apartment's entryway and grabbed the tool bag, flinging it at the wall and scattering its contents across the floor. You trashed everything. Shredded cloth, broken plastic, and torn out pages from books littered the living room tile. You wanted it all gone. You wanted everything that reminded you of him purged from existence.
You paused for a minute, breathing heavily in your rage and observing your desecrated living space, and then you saw his face smiling back at you in a photo you had taken together last year. You picked up the picture and smashed it, shattering the glass frame and cutting your hand in the process. You grimaced and looked down at the gash, crimson lines webbed across your palm. Still, the stinging pain didn't even hold a candle to how Bellamy's betrayal made you feel.
You dripped blood across the floor, letting your hand swing dispassionately, while you trudged to the bathroom.
You dug through the medicine cabinet and grabbed a pack of gauze to bandage your injured hand. When you shut the cabinet door you saw your image reflecting in the mirror. You almost didn't recognize the morose expression of the woman with dark circles and blood shot eyes staring back at you. Who was she? She was someone who put her faith in a man who didn't know how to love and now she had to live with the repercussions.
Blood stained the front of your mother's soft blue dress, just above your stomach, and you remembered you were pregnant. You would bring another fatherless child into this world and you were afraid, afraid that your love for this being would be overshadowed by your hate for their father. You were terrified of the fact that this child could have Bellamy's eyes or his smile and every time you looked at them you would be reminded of his treachery. All of your hopes and dreams of having a quaint little family with Bellamy were shattered.
All of these years you had been longing for the moment where you would trade your last name for his, where you would shed the negative stereotype of being a Jaha like an old layer of skin, and everything would be different. You would no longer be bound by money or titles and you would prove to all of the naysayers that love could transcend socioeconomic prejudices. Sadly, you had only been living a lie and every nasty accusation that your peers made turned out to be true. You wished you could take back every time you defended him, every "I love you," and every moment you spent together. You wanted to take it all back.
You were an exhausted mess, traipsing through the disarray of torn up clothing, crumpled papers, and damaged appliances as you found your way to the bed. You curled up on top of the covers and you could still smell Bellamy's scent lingering amidst the pillows and sheets. The stale ache of living a life without him hit you like a ton of bricks and you felt incapacitated as you struggled to hold the pieces of your broken heart together. You lied there sobbing, praying that you would wake up from this terrible nightmare and that Bellamy would be in bed next to you when you awoke, but that was never going to happen.
You promised yourself that this would be the first and last time that you would cry for Bellamy because any man that could so easily deceive you didn't deserve your tears.
Another month passed, leaving you around ten weeks pregnant. Your pregnancy wasn't showing yet, but you were certainly feeling it as rampant nauseous and fatigue took its toll on you. Despite your symptoms, your prenatal appointments were going swimmingly and you were pleased to know that the baby was developing at a healthy rate. Each day you grew more attached to this tiny human life that was growing inside of you and you only wanted to shower them in unconditional love.
Your father was also being a godsend during this time. He was helping you so much that you hardly ever had to lift a finger. You had never seen him so excited about anything before and his dedication to his unborn grandchild made your heart swell with joy. Even as everyday life began to normalize there was always room for things to get worse.
Life support on the Ark was failing, leaving its inhabitants with only a few months of oxygen left to live on. The council was preparing to launch another dropship to the ground and your father promised that you'd be one of the first passengers to step aboard. Getting you to the ground for a safe delivery became his first priority.
The Ark was also able to make radio contact with the ground and everyone was finally getting the chance to speak with their loved ones. You were actively avoiding the moment when you would get to speak with Bellamy. Over the past month, you had convinced yourself that you were doing just fine without him, that you didn't need him and neither did this child. The day that he left you was the day that you officially rolled up the welcome mat, completely evicting Bellamy from your life.
Your father sent you a summons, urging you to come to the communication center and you knew exactly what he was trying to do. Upon your arrival, he greeted you with a warm hug and an expression of assurance.
"He's waiting to speak with you," Thelonious said.
"I can't do this," you objected. "I won't."
"You have to," he insisted, grabbing your hands and holding them in his. "He needs to know."
Thelonious pardoned Bellamy of his crimes upon finding out that Commander Shumway was the mastermind behind his attempted assassination. Your father seemed to be turning over a new leaf. He had left too many children orphaned under his harsh ruling and he didn't want to leave his grandchild fatherless. You, however, weren't so ready to forgive even with this new found information.
Bellamy still betrayed you. He left you up on this hunk of metal and death, pregnant and alone. He promised you a future full of bright red roses only to leave you with the dark wilted petals. You continually told yourself that you hated him and that you would never forgive him for what he did. You expected to enter into this conversation and be unsympathetic, but your heart changed as soon as you saw Bellamy's face staring back at you on the screen.
Time stood still when your eyes met. Bellamy's face seemed to mildly age in his brief absence and he was sporting a few scrapes against his freckled skin. His hair was longer, a shaggy mess of dirt and grease. Even underneath his new and more rugged appearance, he seemed more like the Bellamy you fell in love with and less like the villain that you created in your head.
For the first time in a long time you remembered that you loved him.
You both sat there for a moment just quietly gazing at each other through sorrowful eyes. It took your tears spilling to finally dissolve the silence.
"I'm sorry. I am so sorry," Bellamy said in a most desperate tone. His voice was gruff and laced with sheer remorse. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"You left me," you whimpered.
"I did," Bellamy agreed. He looked ashamed, but he knew that he could never take back what he had done. "I was worried about Octavia. I couldn't let her come down here alone..." He never took his eyes off of you. "Y/N, I promise I've always loved you."
"You left us."
"Us? What do you mean?"
"I'm pregnant," you said. The way that the words cascaded from your lips rivaled that of the spill of your tears. You didn't want Bellamy to find out this way, but you couldn't stop the words from coming out.
Bellamy slapped a hand over his mouth in total shock and disbelief.
"What?" he stammered, slowly letting the hand slide away from his lips. "I'm going to be a dad?"
You nodded. Taking out your tablet, you pulled up the audio of the baby's heartbeat that you had taken at your latest appointment and played it for him.
Bellamy's mouth hung agape as he listened to the rapid thump of his unborn child's heart, a tiny and precious heart that he created. It was pure, it was beautiful and he was partly responsible for it.
He started laughing and smiling, but you could tell that he was fighting back the urge to cry. Slowly but surely, tears of joy and sadness crept their way into his eyes. Although he was happy, he was feeling the overwhelming guilt of abandoning his pregnant fiancé and he realized that he might never get the chance to meet his child.
"Bellamy, I can't do this without you," you confessed, your bawling revealing the fact that you were actually terrified of giving birth and raising this kid on your own.
That well-crafted front you created came tumbling down. You spent an entire month telling yourself that Bellamy was always your enemy only to mask the pain you were feeling. In actuality, you didn't ever want to live without him and even in your anger you had never taken off your engagement ring. Bellamy was your other half and although you weren't married yet, your heart had already decided to stick by him for better or for worse.
"I know, I know. I'm such an idiot," Bellamy bemoaned. "I can't live without you."
Bellamy was relieved to find out that you were promised a seat aboard the Exodus Ship, but he also told you that the ground was very dangerous. He swore to do everything in his power to protect you and nothing was going to stop you from having a safe and healthy delivery if he had anything to do with it.
"I can't miss a minute of this child's life. Our child," he added, fervently. "Please get here safely."
"I will," you promised.
"I know we may never get the chance to be officially married, but I've wanted to say this to you since the moment I proposed," Bellamy affirmed. He dried his tears and sat up tall in his seat, looking at you with sincerity and esteem, as he recited the vows he had practiced many times over in his head. "I, Bellamy, take you, Y/N, as my wife. I promise to love you in word and deed, to choose you and to stand by you in the face of adversity. As a friend, as a husband, and now as a father, I promise to always support and protect our family." He finished with a quote from Homer, epic poet and author to his favorite book, The Iliad, " 'Two friends, two bodies with one soul inspired' from this day forward and all the days of my life."
It was Unity Day, which meant that your father was giving his annual speech in front of hundreds of Ark residents. You watched thankfully as he informed everyone about the success of those on the ground. After nearly a century of living in space, the people of the Ark would finally be able to return home to Earth.
Your father cut his speech short this year, not that you were complaining, but you decided to stick around and enjoy the rest of the Unity Day festivities. It was a day of celebration and hope because soon you would be reunited with the love of your life.
You couldn't help but cheerfully giggle as you watched a group of elementary aged youth give a presentation about the history of this Ark holiday. They looked so adorable marching around while flying the flags that represented the 12 nations of the Ark. If they continued this tradition on the ground, it would be nice to see your kid participate once they were old enough. Finally, you felt as if you could rejoice in the possibilities that awaited your child. It was a special feeling and an honor to be able to watch this person grow, a person that you and Bellamy were both equally a part of.
Suddenly, you were bombarded by a large explosion. You were slammed to the ground by the crushing impact of the blast. You were in a daze as smoke and dust clouded the air around you. You moved your mouth to cry out for help, but you couldn't even hear the miserable sound of your own wails over the ringing in your ears. Once the disorientation started to settle, the agonizing sound of screams began to fill your eardrums and the sight of bloody bodies flooded your vision.
You tried to move from your spot, but you couldn't because your legs were trapped beneath the rubble. Using the small amount of energy you had remaining, you tried to pull your legs free and felt jagged shards of metal scrape against your skin. You let out a painful shriek and feebly yielded to your spot on the floor. You were fading in and out of consciousness and just as the room was darkening, you saw your father's face hovering over you.
You woke up in medical and it was nothing but chaos. The same tubes and wires that you once saw adorning your father were now covering you in abundance. You looked around weakly and saw that your dad was standing next to you. Dr. Griffin's assistant, Jackson, was also there and he was actively examining you.
You pulled the oxygen mask off of your face, mustering up just enough strength to mutter, "Is the baby okay?"
Jackson ignored your question as he worked on mending the wounds and abrasions on your legs. Dr. Griffin came rushing into the room and Jackson began calling out medical terms that you couldn't even begin to understand. All you cared about was the safety of your child.
You repeated yourself, "Is the baby okay?"
"You have to keep this mask on." Jackson said, lifting the oxygen mask back into its proper position.
You pushed the small plastic mask away again, but this time you turned to your father. "Dad, why aren't they telling anything?" you asked beseechingly.
"You're okay. You're fine, sweetie," Thelonious replied, grabbing hold of your hand. "You just need to calm down."
His blatant evasiveness was a clear sign that he was hiding something from you. He did the same thing when he was trying to protect you from the truth about Bellamy and now you were even more worried than before.
Jackson lifted up your shirt to reveal your stomach and proceeded to cover your belly in a cold clear gel. He brought over the fetal doppler and began to move it across your stomach. His brow furrowed in exasperation as he searched for something. He stopped abruptly and stared at Dr. Griffin with an air of distress.
Dr. Griffin immediately grabbed the handheld monitor from her assistant and tried it several times herself.
She looked at you, meeting your troubled gaze with one of her own, and said, "I can't find the heartbeat."
Bellamy felt the vigor being sucked from his lungs as Marcus Kane's goons dragged him back to Camp Jaha in handcuffs. The last of his stamina was completely drained as he spent the past few hours fighting for his life, but at one point he was completely convinced that he was better off dead.
How was he supposed to live knowing that his betrothed and unborn child had succumbed to death in the Exodus ship crash? He remembered feeling nauseous and then violently vomiting as he laid eyes on the scorched skeletons that encompassed the crash site. He had given up all hope, figuring that you were among the deceased.
He thought it might be better to join you in the afterlife, but instead of surrendering to death, he took out his unbridled aggression by splitting grounder skulls. He had to go on living. It was his curse to bear, to be damned to walk this earth suffering for his evil deed. The thought of you would haunt him every second of every minute. He would be made to see your face on every person and hear your voice whistling on the wind, reminding him of the ultimate cost of his offenses.
There it was again, your angelic voice crying out his name and splintering into his ears. He couldn't stand it anymore. He thought his body would give out and his heart would quit.
"Bellamy," you yelled, running towards him. "Release him at once!" you commanded and the guards freed him from his bonds.
Bellamy stared at you as if he had seen a ghost. "You can't be real," he said in an awestruck whisper. He clenched his eyes shut and then opened them again to make sure that they weren't deceiving him. "I saw the ship crash, the ship that you were on." His voice trembled as he bit back the tears. He was growing hysterical with every mumbled word.
"No, baby. I'm right here," you said with a tearful grin. You grabbed his hand and placed his palm against your stomach. "We're right here."
You were alive and well and so was the baby. The heartbeat that was once lost had been found again.
Bellamy collapsed to his knees in the dirt and pulled you close to him, hugging you firmly around the hips. He buried his weeping face into your stomach, covering it in kisses and savoring the opportunity to be close to you and his child again. From the moment he heard the recording of that thundering heartbeat, he promised he would do anything to protect it, to protect you, because you were his kin.
Bellamy was meeting his second chance with immeasurable gratitude. Not only did he have his sister – who was going to make the greatest aunt on the planet – but he had his wife and his baby beside him. He received family when he should've been given solitude, forgiveness when he should've been shown no mercy and life when he should've received a death sentence. Bellamy wasn't doomed; he was fortunate, tremendously fortunate.
His hope was restored, anticipating the new life that was blossoming inside of you. That child was a miraculous creation that exemplified all of the beauty of your relationship. The baby was not only him, but more importantly, it was you. Bellamy hoped that the baby had your eyes, your smile, and he was already sure that they had your heart. A heart that allowed him to right his wrongs, a heart that was compassionate, and a heart that reflected everything that was good about him.
"I will always love you Bellamy Blake," you said rubbing his back.
"For better or for worse?" he asked, gazing up at you.
"Until death do us part."