Okay, got a longer chapter here. I'm oddly proud of this one, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I'd originally had this concept written over a year ago, only for it to get erased from my computer. I hope you guys like it. Please review!

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I'd felt confused all weekend.

Scratch that; I'd been confused for weeks, trying to understand, dig, upend all the conflicting things inside me. But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't seem to solve the mystery of my own motley of feelings. I couldn't locate the lever that would turn it all off, because after the movie at Octavia's and the way Bellamy had taken notice, it was the only option left.

There was no pretending. It just needed to stop.

But it didn't.

Which had left me seeking alternative forms of distraction, namely studying.

I'd decided that it was the most practical way to keep my mind occupied. After Friday night, I'd thrown myself into my textbooks for all of Saturday and Sunday, and I was relieved to find that it actually seemed to help. I'd also found drawing to be a pretty effective method, especially when my mind began to reach full capacity.

I didn't think about anything during AP Chemistry, shoving any irrelevant thoughts far behind ones of formulas and reactive components. I poured myself into each hour of class, refusing to leave a trace of mental room for anything else. My brain might have started to feel like an attic, but that was manageable; I could prioritize.

A part of me wondered if Bellamy would prompt the topic of Friday if I saw him, but I wasn't so sure. He'd had the chance to do so Friday and hadn't. But that alone wasn't exactly a relief. He'd chosen not to ask, but that didn't change the fact he'd still noticed something was off. And that was enough to make me feel even more awkward.

Octavia found me at lunch, sitting alone at a table with a sketchpad. My mind was frankly too packed to take in any more information, which left me to my only other device of effective distraction.

She'd plopped down in the seat beside me so suddenly I'd nearly thrown my pencil. "Hey," she'd said, peering over me to the paper. "That's actually good. Like really good."

I'd looked at the portrait I'd started of a couple students a few tables over, of a freshman girl braiding her friend's hair.

Octavia then, for the remaining lunch period, proceeded to gush over Friday and how many new ideas it had planted in her wildly creative head.

I'd tried to dissuade her from concocting anything else up too soon. I'd tried to turn the spiel in a different direction, asking instead about Jae.

When the final bell tolled, I was thankful that I hadn't yet run into Bellamy.

I tried to ignore the part of me that was also disappointed.

I stopped at my locker and swapped out a few books, enough to make the strap of my bag cut into my shoulder. I retrieved my keys from where they'd slipped to the bottom of my bag.

I was just starting to make my way for the front doors when Bellamy appeared, hands shoved in the pockets of a lightweight jacket.

My pulse jumped a little, but it wasn't too bad; we were both heading out, which didn't give either of us much time to socialize.

"Hey," he said, our usual greeting. He footsteps synced with mine.

"Hey."

It occurred to me that maybe he did want to talk to me about Friday, and that thought nearly sent my feet walking at a faster pace. I wondered if running formulas through my head would help any.

I risked a glance at him.

Probably not.

I searched for some kind of neutral topic that wasn't Jae or Friday night.

"How was your weekend?" I asked. Too late did I realize that Friday did, in fact, fall into that category, and I'd just accidentally broached the topic I'd wanted to avoid.

"Actually I wanted to talk to you about something."

My heart skipped beat, his words triggering my own mental alarm. I suddenly felt a little panicked, deliberating on whether to look like I was in a hurry or not. I could've been in a rush to study, for all he knew. He probably wouldn't believe it, but that didn't matter as much. I just needed more time. Time to process and untangle the knotted mangle of my emotions.

I was thinking of an excuse. Felt the words on my lips as we came to the front doors.

But they faded away as soon as I looked out, evaporating into thin air.

Dread jumped into my bones like lead, dragging my gaze from the grey sky above to the soaked ground below it.

Rain.

I went cold all over, paralyzed as I stared out in disbelief. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not today. Not now.

I felt Bellamy's movement at my side. "I'll wait with you." he said simply. I noticed he didn't leave enough room for a question.

The gesture made my chest flutter, which made the rest of me frustrated. Suddenly I felt like a butterfly under glass, trapped between two equally unyielding forces.

I couldn't wait if it meant him staying, because I'd be giving him the time to ask the questions he'd already started to. And I couldn't answer what I didn't fully know myself. Not yet, at least. And certainly not like this.

I stared at the onslaught of rain, watching in silence as it became a deluge that poured down in sheets. Students ran in and out. Some held jackets over their heads, some held their textbooks. My hands trembled and the pound of my own heartbeat echoed in my ears.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the battle of memories that surged at the sight.

Dad and me in the car.

A normal day that ended in an irrevocably different life.

"Clarke?" Bellamy's voice floated somewhere beside me. His words felt distant, intangible and hard to grasp. Pain exploded over my palm where my keys had begun to bite into the skin.

Bellamy didn't ask how I was; the question was enfolded inside the way he said my name.

I ground my teeth until my jaw hurt, wishing he were far away. Wishing I were far away. Wishing unalterable things undone and broken things made whole. and I suddenly felt something inside me begin to build on my frustration, a torrent of resentment that matched the storm outside.

I was suddenly very angry at rain.

"Clarke?" Bellamy asked again, the concern in his tone a little more evident.

But I wasn't listening; my focus had been refined to one thing. This moment, of realizing how angry I was. At myself, for turning on the distracting music that day. At my dad, for allowing himself to get distracted. At the car for not being stronger. At the weather for not being better. I was angry at too many things and a thousand moments in this single moment in time.

"It's . . . just rain," I whispered to myself, testing out the words, letting them settle over me. Drive me, as though they were the spark and I were the timber.

"It's just rain. It's just rain." I took a rattled breath and started for the door.

An unwelcome gust of wind swept up the sleeves of my jacket, cradling me in cold. The sharp peppering of rain against my cheek gave me pause, but I wasn't stopping.

Footsteps echoed after me. "Clarke, what are you doing?" Bellamy asked, taking long strides to keep in pace with me. I was walking faster than I thought, but I didn't care. I had one thing in mind, and that was to reclaim a piece of what had been lost. My dad was gone. Finn was gone. I had no idea what to do about Bellamy. Like those little girl's petals, there were things I couldn't paste together again.

But I could take back something. I could take back this.

Or at least try to.

A hand latched onto my wrist, but I twisted out of his grasp.

"Clarke," there was an undeniable edge in his voice now, sharp enough to cut through the rain. He reached for me again. "Let me go, Bellamy."

"I will once you tell me what you're doing."

I pulled free and unlocked my car, looking at him from over the hood. "Please leave. This is something I have to do. Alone."

I opened the door and ducked inside. My fingers shook as I tried to insert the key into the ignition, my previous bravado suddenly nowhere to be found.

The passenger's door suddenly swung open and Bellamy piled in.

I stared at him in bewilderment. "What are you doing?" Numbly did I note the bite of my own anger, weaving through those words and pulling them taut with accusation.

Bellamy slung the seatbelt over his chest, gazing at me with an expression of resolve as it clicked in place. "What does it look like?"

My free hand tightened over the wheel. I didn't know if it was in anger or fear. "No. Bellamy, this isn't-"

"So what?" he asked vehemently. "You get to butt into my life when things go south but I'm not allowed to do it to you?" He shook his head, looking resolutely in front of him. "No, we're not doing that."

I stared at him, suddenly grappling for words. I felt my momentum begin to falter. "Bellamy-"

"Drive, Clarke."

I hesitated, doubts suddenly filling up the small space, crowding in until I began to feel suffocated. It was different, having someone else in the car. I was prepared to do this by myself. The idea of bringing him into it made the shaking grow worse. "Get out of the car, Bellamy," I spoke slowly.

He didn't look at me. "No."

"Bellamy-"

His gaze snapped to mine. "It's not happening," he said flatly. "Now are we gonna stay in park all day or do you plan to actually get this thing moving?"

I pulled in a slow breath. My chest shuddered. Only now was beginning to register as an incredibly stupid idea.

I felt the key knock around the ignition, my fingers quaking too much to insert it.

"Bellamy," the anger drained away. I knew he understood that this wasn't something he was meant to be a part of. Maybe that's exactly why he refused to go. But I still wanted to try, at least one more time. "Please."

"Put the key in," came his curt reply. "Slow."

I pulled in another deep breath, the rain smacking against the windshield. Perhaps once I started, he would realize what an idiotic decision he was making. I slid the key into place.

"Now, turn on the ignition."

I listened, the engine roaring to life a moment later. I flicked the windshield wipers on.

My hands gripped the steering wheel until my fingers turned white.

"Good," Bellamy praised. "Now we're just going to pull out of the parking space. Nice and easy." I followed his instruction, allowing his words to guide me. I tried to see past the rain filling my vision, drowning me in those memories. Those moments of lasts.

"Focus, Clarke. One thing at a time."

Once again I found myself wishing he weren't here, but I was too scared to be embarrassed. Too frightened to think clearly. I channeled all of my attention in one act at a time. After an agonizing minute, I put the car in reverse and slowly backed up.

The car jerked once, the sudden movement sending a shock of fear up my spine.

I swallowed, looking straight at the road ahead, my vision intermittently obscured by the rain streaking across the glass like tears.

I shifted the car into drive and allowed the tires to crawl forward. The smack of rain echoed like a perpetual gunshot. And just like that, I wasn't only thinking of my dad but of Finn too, the memories interposed between each other, the crush of glass exploding into the roar of a fired bullet.

I didn't know how long it took me to get to the end of the parking lot. Minutes? Hours? Yet somehow I found myself there, the car idling as I stared at the open stretch of road that seemed much more intimidating than the parking lot had been.

My entire body was trembling, my very bones seeming to rattle. I'd forgotten knees could still knock together even when sitting down.

"Good," said Bellamy. "One step at a time." I felt his gaze on me. "Whenever you're ready."

I bit my lip until it bled. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready. The anger I'd had to drive me just minutes before felt very distant now. In its place was just desperation.

I knew enough about both of those emotions to know I could use either, each an explosion on the inside. They were catalysts, after all, capable of starting a reaction, one that responded to the components around to produce something entirely new. Something that didn't stop, even when those catalysts were taken away.

I couldn't think about it. I just pressed the pedal down, clinging to the wheel as the car dipped out of the exit and onto the actual road.

Rain exploded in my ears.

"You're doing great," came Bellamy's assurance. His voice drifted to me as though from under water.

The sharp honk of a horn behind me made me jump. Flashes of a broken car window and a mangled door flashed through my mind.

Bellamy looked behind us. "That's okay; they can go around."

A few moments later a white Nissan passed us.

My breathing came in silent, shallow gasps as I slowed to a stop light, the brilliant red catching in the droplets of water. It reminded me of blood.

I squeezed my eyes shut as a wave of regret slammed into me, almost knocking what little breath I had from my lungs.

What a reckless and masochistic decision this had been.

"It's green."

I forced my eyes open and the car rolled forward. I tried to remember to check my review and my side mirrors. A part of me screamed to pull the car over and give Bellamy no other choice but to get out; his presence painted horrible scenarios in my head, and the idea of anything happening had me gripping the steering wheel until my fingertips began to tingle.

But I couldn't seem to find the mechanism inside me to pull off the to the shoulder and stop the car. All of my attention was refined to the single, focal point in front of me. My entire world became this road, this moment, this strange place of deja vu that made the familiar smell of wet asphalt a living nightmare. It swallowed the past months and in an instant had brought that day horribly close, as though it had only just happened and I was returning to a house that was a stranger to having merely two occupants.

"Are we . . . almost there?" I whispered. I was barely able to hear my own voice, but somehow Bellamy managed to make it out.

"No," he answered honestly. "But we'll take as much time as you need."

I clenched my teeth, bursts of pain radiating down my jaw.

"Dad, shh. This is our song."

I shook my head, as if to physically discard the memory. It refused to go.

"The summer's gone and all the flowers are dying."

I could see the profile of my dad's face with perfect clarity. His smile that seemed to fill the space. His eyes the same shade of blue as my own, shining with laughter beside me.

Another peal of honking cut the air.

The flash of headlights.

The squeal of tires.

"And I will rest in peace until you come for me."

No.

That one word was a shout in me, raucous and obstinate.

No.

A bead of that previous anger sprang to life, mingling like oil with the water of my fear. Rain rattled against the roof of the car, pounding like little fists trying to get my attention.

I never wanted to remember. I ached to put every single reminder in a box that had no opening. Put them to a candle and let them disappear into ash.

I tried that every time.

No time had worked.

That lidless box still found a way to open. The paper of memory always refused to catch fire. I couldn't escape them.

What if you stopped trying to?

The thought was revolutionary. I looked out at the sheets of rain, falling across the road like a curtain.

What if I stopped trying to?

An inexplicable courage rose up in me, and before I even thought to decide it, I'd already chosen.

This time, instead of trying to forget, I let myself remember.

Not the squeal of hydroplaning tires.

Not the deafening crash of metal on metal.

For the first time, I let myself think of my Dad.

Of his brilliant smile. The way his roaring laughter came from somewhere deep inside, and always the loudest when he was with me. I let the memory of his voice fill me, strong, unyielding, gentle.

And with those memories came others; countless moments of him, as numerous as the stars.

Tucking me in at night.

High-fiving me after using a particularly impressive medical word.

Drinking hot cocoa at Christmas.

Finding new constellations as we lay on the lawn.

His lips pressing to my forehead before he left for work.

"Love you, Sweetheart."

My vision blurred as those memories filled me, pushing out everything else. I didn't think about the man sitting beside me or the car honking behind. I didn't think of the tears slipping down my cheeks. My mind was spilling over with thoughts of my Dad, each one a brilliant reminder, echoing back to me like a heartbeat. Suddenly even the tragedy of that day was eclipsed by a thousand dear recollections, memories I didn't even know I remembered. I let them all come, playing out like a bittersweet melody, each memory bringing with it a pain that healed even as it cut.

"Remember to never outgrow your old man, all right? Not now, but I mean when you get older. When you go off to study in some prestigious med school." A wink. "Always remember who your number one fan is, okay?"

I recalled the conspiratory look he'd given me then before heading out the door one morning. "Love you!" He'd called out, his silhouette catching against the sun as he gave a quick wave before closing the front door after him.

It struck me now, with a force of a tidal wave, that in my attempt to push away those awful memories of that one day, I'd also pushed away the memories of a thousand others, any that reminded me that he was gone.

And that was all of them.

An ugly sob wrenched from my chest.

I hadn't just been trying to bury what I didn't want to remember; I'd buried my Dad altogether.

There would never be another of those mornings, but I couldn't forget the ones we'd had. I wouldn't, anymore than the constellations would unravel like thread and their stars slip off like beads.

**********

The hand that settled on my shoulder pulled me out of the breakers of memory. I stared out the windshield, the familiar white paneling and ochre door filling my view.

Home.

I blinked with burning eyes. The rain still fell, chiming like bells upon contact, but it didn't seem to matter as much. I simply tried to gather together the fact that I was here.

"We made it," I murmured softly, my hands still clenched around the wheel. I looked over at Bellamy, his dark eyes on me. They were full of an emotion I couldn't manage to focus on long enough to place.

The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "We made it," he agreed.

Still trembling, I pried my fingers from the wheel and undid my seat belt. Bellamy followed suit as we got out of the car. I didn't care that thick drops of water fell in my hair or drenched my already-soaked shirt. I didn't care that my eyes were probably red and swollen from crying. I didn't care that we were both standing in a deluge for the third time since I'd known him. I forgot to be embarrassed. I was too preoccupied looking between the house and my car as a foreign sense of victory swept over me.

I'd done it. I'd actually done it.

A sound of shocked laughter escaped me and I turned to face Bellamy, grinning as though I'd won the lottery. It felt as though I had.

Rainwater plastered his dark hair to his forehead, but this time he didn't appear to mind. He matched my smile with his own.

I didn't even think about it. I didn't register walking over to him, but in an instant I was there, wrapping him in an embrace.

I could feel his body stiffen under my hands in surprise. But then he melted against me, arms winding tightly around my waist. Despite the chilled rain and our sodden clothes, warmth emanated from him.

"Thank you," I whispered, the words painfully insufficient. I pulled back enough to look at him, drops of water trailing down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. I was close enough to follow the configuration of freckles that spanned his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.

My heart jumped in my chest and I felt the blood rush to my face.

His smile had slipped away. There was just a simple earnestness now, his eyes seeming to hold a question, drawing me deeper. Closer.

I tilted my chin up just as he lowered his head to mine.

Reason slammed into me so hard I gasped. I stumbled back, shattering the moment in a stardust of brilliant, shining pieces. The cold flooded back into place.

I looked away from him, my gaze settling somewhere between the ground and his drenched tennis shoes. My mind went completely blank. Radio silence.

Slowly I lifted my eyes only to find him staring back, eyes wide with the same shock I felt, as though something neither of us had anticipated had almost happened.

I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came. There was just the sound of rainfall and the pounding of my own heart.

"I . . . I'm sorry," I finally whispered, unsure about what I was even apologizing for.

For hugging him?

For wanting, for the breath between a moment, what I couldn't have?

No. That was foolish. Rash. As careless as allowing him to get in the car with me had been. Only this was worse, because there was no going back to indifference now.

He knew.

Bellamy knew, without a shadow of a doubt.

The sense of victory I'd had was momentarily forgotten. A horrible feeling of exposure swept over me. I felt bare. Vulnerable in a way grief or pain hadn't made me before him.

He cupped the back of his neck, looking equally at a loss for the right thing to say. "I should uh . . . I should get going," he said gruffly.

I looked at him. In this moment, I felt like I was losing something, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was. "You came in my car," I said numbly. The idea of him walking all the way back in the cold distracted me from the weight sitting in my chest, along with that horrible bareness. "You can . . . dry off here. I can make mediocre coffee again." The lightness I'd intended didn't carry far.

Bellamy smirked half-heartedly. "I'll text Maureen. See if she can give me a ride."

I gave a small nod in acquiescence, the seconds of weighty silence their own punch. They confirmed what I already knew; something had just unalterably changed between us.

"Can I . . . can I at least get you a jacket while you wait?" I asked, goosebumps rising along my own skin. I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'd rather not be responsible for you getting pneumonia."

He gave a noncommittal shrug. "I was the one who decided to get in the car."

"I'm well aware of that."

I was also aware at how difficult it had become to look at him. "I'll be right back." I wasn't entirely sure if it was just an excuse to put the image of him behind me.

I quickly walked up the driveway and into my house, not bothering to remove my sodden shoes. Too many thoughts tried to assail me. Once more I felt like I couldn't breathe for an entirely different reason.

I walked to the closet and rummaged through the hangars, looking at the contents but not really seeing them. I gingerly pulled out one of Dad's old sports jackets, holding it in my hands for one, long minute.

If only I could fix this, I thought. Go back in time. Unravel everything I felt. I wanted to return to how it all was just a few weeks ago, when the only thing Bellamy and I had in common was a painful past and the welfare of a fourteen-year-old girl.

Before I'd showed up at his door one night.

Before I'd felt protective of them at the sight of Jae.

Before the man I'd once barely tolerated had become someone I trusted, who'd seen more of myself than I'd shown to anyone else.

And now, it was different; irreversible. A puff of air against a single, timid flame.

I turned back sharply, my head spinning as I gripped the jacket firmly in my hand. I returned to the front door that still stood ajar against the storm. I stared out to where my car was parked, crooked and alone, against the pavement. My gaze wandered to the end of the street.

I was just in time to spot Bellamy, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, before he turned the corner and disappeared from my sight.