Epilogue

'Hey, hey, you're almost there. One more push and we should have the baby's head.' Clarke smiled up at Harper from where she knelt between the other woman's spread legs, a position she'd been in on and off for the past eight hours.

At Harper's head, Madi carefully stroked back the damp strands clinging to her skin. The labour had been long and tricky so far, but it was so, so close. Ella, the closest thing to midwife they had, had been in and out to check on them, clearing Harper as safe to continue a natural delivery without returning to the ship's med bay (not that they could, with no vehicle and bad weather).

The woman was flagging, though, and Clarke was sure part of that was the fact Monty wasn't back yet. The trade run had left three days ago, before Harper realised the pains she felt were the start of her slow labour, and now, nobody could get through to them on the radio. Honestly, they should have thought about completing the trade run before the snow set in the day before. It wasn't as if the morning frost and bitter chill for the past two weeks weren't enough clues.

Raven, in the corner of the room, shook her head at Clarke, one hand over the headset she wore, listening for a response. Pushing down her own feelings of worry, Clarke turned back to Harper. 'You ready?'

Breath coming out in little pants, Harper nodded. Clarke gave her a gentle pat to the thigh, before moving herself back in position, making sure the towel over her right hand was still in place, keeping the brace covered.

In three, two, one, Harper's contraction hit, and the pushing began.

Clarke watched as the thatch of dark hair that she had been monitoring moved forward just far enough for her to get her hand underneath it; when Harper's muscles clamped down and then released, pushing hard, and she cried out, Clarke secured a gentle grip and helped guide the child into the world amidst a gush of fluid.

The small body in her arms wriggled, kicked out, and then as Clarke flipped them around to clear the airways, squawked. Within seconds, the crying had begun, and laughs of relief filled with the room. With more care than she remembered handling anything, Clarke turned the baby over again, until it was facing the ceiling.

'Well, Harper,' she said, voice filled with emotion as she leaned forward, placing the child on the towel Madi had laid out over Harper's chest, 'It looks like you have a daughter.' She arranged the child, watching as Harper's shaky, tired arms came up to hold her without second thought.

The sound of metal clicking in the corner caught Clarke's attention, and she glanced over as Raven stepped forward, headphones down against the rest of the radio rig. Her face was filled with wonderous delight as she came to stand beside their friend.

'Oh, wow,' she whispered, as Harper laughed, tears sliding down her face. Madi, now sponging down her forehead, snorted. 'My God, Harper, you did it.'

Clarke turned her attention back downwards, focusing on the messy delivery of the afterbirth, until finally, finally, Harper was able to pull her newborn far enough up her body to tuck her little face into her neck.

'Hey, little one,' Harper was crooning as the baby's wails lessened, hands stroking her soft head. 'Hello. It's okay, you're okay.'

Clarke, happy with how the delivery had gone, pushed herself backwards until she was able to stand up again. Ella entered at the same time, bringing with her a tub of warm water and several more blankets and towels.

'I heard the crying,' she murmured to Clarke, placing the tub down at Harper's feet. 'The baby okay?'

Clarke nodded. 'Yeah. Airway clear, no obvious complications. It's a little girl.' She gestured to where Madi was now leaning forward, over Harper's shoulder, to coo at the child as she nuzzled into Harper's chest. 'Anyone know anything about the trade run?'

Ella shook her head as she lay the towels down besides the tub. 'No sign of them yet, but Murphy is watching out for them at the pass. He says it's impossible for the truck to get through it in this weather, but he'll get Monty to hike it back before the others.'

'Good.' Clarke raised her hand to clasp at the other woman's shoulder, and then paused when she caught sight of the mix of blood and other fluids still coating her. 'I need to wash up. So does the baby.' She glanced over at her friend, who looked up as if sensing the gaze. 'You ready to give her her first bath?'

By the time the baby was washed, dried, and secured in a baggy outfit that someone from the Gagarin had sent over in a previous trade run, night had fallen, and the solar lights lining the ceiling of the infirmary had turned on, casting an orange glow over everything inside.

Clarke hovered by the door as Raven prepared the radio rig to move out again. Madi had already dashed off to get herself dinner, after having left a bowl of the soup beside Harper's bed. The baby lay in the cot beside her, sleeping off her first feed, and Harper was peering over the edges.

It was adorable to watch, to see the devotion there before the baby was even two hours old. Clarke knew, in that moment, that Harper would do anything – even die – to protect the little girl. As would many of their community, she was sure as she caught a few notes of laughter and music from outside.

This baby was the first live birth in their little community in the nineteen months they had been set up, since they had broken off from the Gagarin ship. There had been two stillbirths, and seven miscarriages; so a live birth was a thing of joy for everyone to experience, though they knew better than to disturb the new mother and baby.

She was sure Harper was glad of that, though it meant she was almost alone in the delivery area of the infirmary, save for Clarke. She wasn't keen on the idea of leaving Harper entirely alone, but without Monty being back …

'You don't have to stay.' Harper glanced away from her daughter, looking across at her friend. 'We'll be fine. And I can still shout if I need you.' She shrugged. 'Though I'm sure someone will be by the door at all times so I don't need to shout loud, am I right?'

'You know us too well.' Clarke laughed, stepping forward so she could peer into the crib at the sleeping child. 'Get some sleep, Harper. I think after what you've been through today, you deserve it.' She stroked her hand around the edge of the crib. 'The moment I see Monty, I'll send him in.'

With Harper's blessing, Clarke left the infirmary, dimming the lights behind her so there was a chance for slumber. Once outside, in the cool winter breeze, she paused by the door for a moment to take stock of the people in front of her.

Ninety-one people gathered around the central firepit, laughing amongst each other, sharing food amongst them from the cooking hut. Two more hung back, watching from underneath the shelter of deck outside the old church they'd turned into an infirmary, nuzzled together. The man's hand rested lightly on the woman's stomach, bulging softly – hopefully, with the next live birth, in three months' time. Clarke gave them a smile as she stepped forward, climbing down the stairs and gesturing towards Miller, who happily took up a stance near the door, with Jackson following close behind him.

God, there'd been no separating those two. It was sweet, but in an almost sickly way. She'd never seen either of them so affectionate – but if they were happy …

Raven caught up to her as she approached the throng, wrapping an arm around her. 'Murphy just radioed,' she called over the noise of the others. 'The truck just got to the pass. Monty's racing back as fast as he can – should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so while the others unload the essentials.'

Clarke nodded, relief sweeping aside the tension she didn't even realise she'd been feeling. The last four of their hundred – well, hundred and one, now – people were accounted for, along with the two guests they were bringing back with them.

Having delivered her message, Raven sauntered away to Zeke, holding her bowl of soup high above her head to avoid Kina and Madi as they raced through the crowd, nearly barrelling into many people who just laughed and shook their heads. Clarke grinned at the teenagers, who shot her a mischievous look before disappearing on the other side of the fire.

Eden was thriving.

Clarke's plan had been purely to get away from the Gagarin for a few days – or maybe weeks – when she first suggested it to Bellamy, knowing that the valley was a suitable place to spend time. It was filled with green, and stocked with supplies that she and Madi had gathered over the years. If it hadn't been six hours drive from Polis, they'd have made a more permanent home of it during those six long years, but maybe that was for the best.

Now, it was filled with buildings, some of wood, some of polymers Zeke had created on the ship with the advanced tech, creating homes for the families that had chosen to break away from living in grounded spaceships. It had started with a few – Clarke and Bellamy, who had decided to turn it into a small community, followed by Madi, then Harper, during a period of separation from Monty; he soon followed, and they reconciled, and with him came Murphy and Emori, then Raven and Zeke and Arida with Kina.

Word had spread, and before they knew it, there was a mixed community of Grounders, Skaikru, and Gagarin, though none adhered to those definitions anymore.

They were just … Edeners.

People.

Clarke loved it. A community of equals, no class lines, no races or disputes over origins. Just people who respected one another, who worked together to help the community to thrive and to survive through even the harshest of weathers. A place she could finally call home, something she hadn't known since the day her father was floated and she was arrested.

They'd even built her a cabin, the first one they'd done – a surprise from her friends. Set a little ways away from everyone else, backing against the woods and the mountain, it was a place just hers for when she needed it. A place to go when people got too much for her to deal with.

God, could she have a more perfect group of people around her?

Pushing back that emotion – today was a day of joy, and though it was a joyous memory, she didn't want to cry – Clarke joined in the celebration, happily partaking in the cups of Monty's moonshine being passed around, pointing the man himself to the infirmary when he finally arrived a little while later.

Maybe an hour after that, with Clarke on that delicate edge of being drunk enough to act loosely, but sober enough to know it (yet fast falling away), the others from the trade run arrived.

Abby entered the gathering first, finding her daughter almost immediately for an embrace of welcome. When Kane followed her, Clarke surprised him by turning to hug him, too. 'I'm so glad you're here!' she laughed, pulling away. 'Join in the celebration – we've got plenty of alcohol to go around!'

'Celebrating something good?' Abby's lips curved up in a smile as Clarke stumbled slightly, trying to step backwards.

'You know what we're celebrating. Murphy's mouth is too big for only Monty to know.' Clarke glanced over her mother's shoulder as the man in question stepped forward, pulling a trolley of supplies behind him. His mechanical hand was amazing, so lifelike and strong. Clarke was, once again, in awe. 'We have a little girl in Eden.'

The pair beamed, and Kane's hand landed on her shoulder. 'We heard that Harper had gone into labour, but not that the baby had arrived!'

Clarke nodded enthusiastically, and then stopped, wincing when it sent her vision swirling. 'About two hours ago. Harper hasn't said what her name is yet – I think she was waiting for Monty to get back. But everyone's celebrating it.' She gestured widely, narrowly avoiding Madi as the girl skidded to a stop beside her. 'When you go back, can you thank the seamstress for the baby clothes?'

'Of course.' Kane squeezed her shoulder, and then glanced at Abby. 'A few drinks in celebration won't hurt, will they?'

Abby laughed. 'I guess not,' she agreed.

When the pair had moved off, with promises to meet up with Clarke in the morning – when she was sober – she turned her attention back to the entrance to Eden, where Liam's younger brother, Luke (who had chosen to come to Eden with Ella, and they'd been inseparable ever since) was tugging in a cart filled with Zeke's bricks, ready to complete the newest batch of cabins they were building.

And then, behind him, was Bellamy, a sack of what was hopefully clothing and medicinal supplies slung over his back. Without a thought of decorum, or of her fast-approaching drunkness, Clarke sprang into action, racing through the crowd toward him.

Somehow, impossibly, he didn't let go of the sack even when she launched herself into his arms in welcome. Instead, he laughed, folding his arm around her waist and tucking his face into the crook of her neck. 'Well, hello.'

She pulled back just far enough to see his face, his eyes sparkling in amusement. 'Are you drunk, Clarke?'

'Nooooo.' Clarke shook her head, realising too late that her hair was loose and long enough to slap him in the face with each shake. 'Oh … oops?'

He rolled his eyes, releasing her waist so her feet were back firmly on the floor. 'You are, aren't you? Which means you broke open Monty's moonshine. Which means … Harper and the baby are okay?' His face was filled with sudden delight, the same mood that the rest of the community had infecting him as Clarke nodded furiously.

It only took her a few seconds after that to realise how bad an idea that was. Monty's moonshine was potent, and though she'd been fine a few minutes before … the vomit now splattered in the grass beside the gate suggested otherwise.

Bellamy laughed again, carefully lowering the sack to the floor, where it was quickly swept up by somebody else to be inventoried and put away. 'You're so drunk.' Big, warm hands swept her hair backwards, and with a few tugs, he had it back in the hairband he'd taken to wearing just in case she needed one.

If she thought really hard about it, that might have scared her.

'What a lovely welcome,' he teased when she spat out the taste of sick, wiping her hand over her mouth and straightening. 'I think you need to get to bed.'

'Mmm.' Clarke swayed slightly, her eyes sliding shut as he pulled her to his chest and then up into his arms. There was only the slightest adjustment into his chest needed as his weakened arm struggled to cope with her weight. 'S'eepy now.'

'Yeah, Monty's moonshine does that after the third glass.' His amusement was evident, even if she couldn't see his face. 'How much have you had?'

'Err … tree, fur, fif …' she trailed off, losing track. How many had she had?

The vibrations against her ear told her Bellamy was laughing again. 'Go to sleep, Princess. You're going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning.'

She couldn't exactly say he was wrong.

When she woke to the annoying chirping outside the window, it was to a throbbing head, sandy throat, bursting bladder, and empty bed. Taking care of her needs in order of priority – bladder, throat, head – she stumbled around her little cabin. Her bleary eyes could barely take in any of the details, the drawings that had been stuck up everywhere.

The only one she could focus on for any length of time was the most recent one she'd done of Bellamy, still in her sketchbook and open on her table. She'd drawn it the other morning, while he slept and she sat in the morning sunlight, watching as it played over his bare muscles.

He didn't seem to feel the cold, so she'd drawn that; the play of the light, the bunching of the muscles in his arms, the way his curls fell over his forehead where he was folded over his arm, not quite obscuring the raised scar that ran across the skin. The pure peace in his face, except for that one line that just would not go away, just above his brow.

She needed to get Octavia to talk to him, somehow, to relieve that last stressor that plagued him day and night.

But now … right now, she needed him herself. Blinking back tears at the brightness of the morning sun on the blanket of snow, she stepped out of her cabin, securing a warm sheet around her. The walk to the other cabins wasn't long – five minutes, maybe – but long enough for her to start shivering before she let herself through Bellamy's door.

He was still in bed, lying on his front, one arm hanging off the side of the bed. Kicking off her boots, Clarke moved forward, squinting to find the edge of the bedsheets as her vision wavered with her hangover. When she was successful, she slid into his bed, curling up against him. He was warm, and she sought that heat with frozen palms on his side.

He jolted at the action, cursed, and spun his head around to face her. 'Fuck, you're freezing!'

She groaned, tucking herself closer to his side. 'So warm me,' she whispered, and he hissed when she pressed her feet against his leg, closing her eyes.

With a moan, Bellamy shifted, turning over until he was on his side facing her. 'Why the hell … you know what, it's too early.' He stretched his arm out, grabbing at the blankets. 'You're hungover, so sleep,' he ordered, as he swept the blankets higher up the bed, covering her shoulders, and then wrapped his arm around her.

Snuggled against his chest, that's precisely what she did.

The next time she woke up, it was to Bellamy pressing gentle kisses to her cheek, face filled with warmth when he pulled away and saw her awake. 'Hey,' he murmured, and she smiled up at him. 'Feeling better? Warmer?'

She nodded, and he grinned, an expression she was becoming intimately familiar with – one that promised fun in the immediate future. 'Good.'

He took her lips before she could say another word, and she lost herself in his kiss, in the movement of his hands up and down her sides, underneath her shirt – well, his shirt that he'd dressed her in the night before – until she was lying beneath him, both of them bare and panting, bodies entwined in the best way possible.

He moved lazily, almost, building her up slowly, pressing gentle kisses to her face. She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, the other trailing down to rest over his heart, feeling its rapid beating. Proving to herself that this was real, that they were really there.

She did it every time they were together, and Bellamy just gave her a long, drawn-out kiss in response each time – another way to prove that this time, things were okay. That he was there, and he wasn't going anywhere.

She let her hand trail lower when he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together as his pace sped up just that little bit that made her breath catch. Her fingers trailed the ragged scar tissue that had so very nearly taken him away from her, and he flinched slightly, as he always did.

Perhaps it was the after-effect of her hangover. Maybe it was the fairytale view outside, with snow falling again. Or maybe it was the realisation that the hands she'd soaked in death and destruction for so long had finally started to clean, to bring life and to build a future.

Or maybe it was none of that. But there was something different about this time. Clarke could feel it as she met Bellamy's dark gaze. The intense emotion between them was there, the connection they absolutely could not deny – but there was something more.

It welled up before she could stop herself.

'I love you.'

Bellamy's rhythm faltered, then stopped as he jolted back in surprise, eyebrows raised. Clarke whined, shifting to try to get the friction that had just been taken away from her back, but he didn't give in. Instead, he smiled, leaned over her, resting his weight on his forearms, and pressed a fierce kiss against her lips.

When he pulled back, she had her hands laid against his cheeks, thumbs stroking over his many freckles, wiping away wetness she wasn't expecting. 'I've been waiting for you to say that,' he admitted softly, pressing a kiss to her nose. 'God, you have no idea how good it is to hear.'

He started moving again, that delicious drag sending shockwaves through her even as he captured her lips once more. After several long, beautiful seconds, he pulled away far enough to talk, his rhythm faster now, urgent, taking her so so close to the tipping point. 'In case I haven't made it obvious … I love you.'

For the first time, she wasn't scared of the future.

I can't believe it.

It's over.

Done.

I started this in June after finishing Season 4 when it sparked my mind in a way nothing had for a very long time. 7 and a half months later, 239 pages in Word, 101 chapters and an epilogue, 115 thousand words ... and we're at the end.

Thank you so so much, each and every one of you who has read this entire crazy thing, everyone who has reviewed, faved, followed - I might not respond to them often, but I see everything and each time the notification pops up in my inbox I get that little shot of happiness that has kept me going even through the tough times. You all are amazing and I love each and every one of you for all the support!

I hope to see you around as I work through my backlog of other fics - and maybe when Season 5 ends I'll be right back with more fics!

(And I totally haven't gotten any one-shot spin off ideas now the ending has settled in my mind. Nope. Not at all ...)

(I totally will not be back in a few weeks with two one-shots my brain won't let go of. Never! Totally not going to do anything during my time off work next month ...)

Tears x