Carrying a barrel of hydrazine between them, Bellamy and Roan shuffled into the clinical white lab.

Bellamy let out a grunt as they lowered the final barrel next to the other eight. Then he watched Roan slam his fist into the wall on his way back out the door.

It was a sentiment Bellamy shared. For all their efforts, they'd still lost an entire barrel. It was a miracle Raven had figured out how to get herself and Abby into space and back to make nightblood with only those ten barrels of fuel. But their failure get all ten barrels to the lab meant they'd need more than a miracle to save them all.

Making matters even worse, the only person who could fly the shuttle - much less fly it with the limited fuel - still hadn't regained consciousness after a seizure.

To say the least, things weren't looking good.

As Bellamy headed further into the lab, he spotted Murphy, motionless, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he leaned back on the steps in front to the shuttle.

"Where's Clarke?"

Murphy tilted his head toward the hallway. "Abby made her take a break. Nothing any of us can do 'til Raven wakes up." After a quick glance at Bellamy, he added, "Maybe you should too."

Bellamy grunted and made his way toward the direction Murphy indicated. A few steps into the hallway through a door to the left, he spotted Clarke.

She was on the sofa, her legs across the length of the cushions, her back against the wall. Her eyes stared into nothing.

"Hey," Bellamy called out barely above a whisper, not wanting to intrude on her silence.

"Hey," Clarke replied just as softly, eyes not moving from the wall in front of her. "Heading out?"

He shook his head. "Not yet."

She looked down at her hands.

"You should go." Her voice was deflated and distant as she told him, "Before it gets too late."

If Bellamy hadn't changed his mind before now, the desperation in her voice alone would have been enough to keep him there.

He crossed his arms and anchored himself on the door frame. "I'm staying."

Clarke shook her head as she swung her feet to the floor and turned to face him. "Octavia…"

Bellamy could see her eyes were red as though she'd been crying or on the verge of it. Impulse drove him a step toward Clarke before he stopped himself.

He swallowed hard to steady his voice and looked at the floor before explaining, "That was before a barrel full of our last hope drained out an arrow hole. I'm staying until we figure this out. Octavia will be fine until then."

Clarke slumped and hung her head as she rested her elbows on her knees. "No, I can't let you do that."

She took a deep breath and nodded her head before finally meeting Bellamy's eyes. They lacked the certainty he had seen there less than an hour before.

Her words came out more as a plea than an assurance as she told him, "Raven and my mom can handle it. You've got to get back to Octavia and fix things before it's too late."

Bellamy closed the distance between them and knelt in front of her, his eyes level with hers. "No, you were right. We've got time. We'll make it. Of all the things we've been through, this is just another obstacle that we'll get through."

"Maybe we don't deserve to."

Bellamy rocked backward on his heels, surprised by the sudden anger and pain in Clarke's voice.

"What?"

"What if we don't deserve to survive this? Maybe our enemy has never been Trikru or Azgeda or ALIE. Think about it. One damn arrow hits one damn barrel which means the difference between life and death for everyone on Earth. Who is the enemy there? All the big terrible, decisions we had to make. Finn, Mount Weather, lying to our people about the radiation. They all mean nothing when one insignificant little arrow can kill everyone on the planet." A tear threatens to escape the corner of her eye. "Maybe we're all the enemy, and we're just getting what we deserve. Maybe Earth is better off without humanity."

Bellamy opened and closed his mouth, looking for the right words before he uttered, "Clarke, you know that's not true."

Clarke's jaw clenched and she cast her gaze to the ceiling.

Bellamy leaned back toward her, closing the small but significant distance he'd put between them. He sandwiched her clasped hands between his own and waited for Clarke to look at him.

"None of us deserve this." Then he emphasized, "*You* don't deserve this."

"Then why does everything we do, even the littlest bit of kindness make things worse? I stopped to help one man and because of it, I doomed everyone to die."

"This isn't your fault," he said with complete conviction.

Clarke's eyes closed, and Bellamy watched as her shoulders relaxed.

Satisfied his message was getting through, Bellamy looked down at her hands within his own. After a moment, he felt her forehead rest against his own, a curtain of blond hair fell on each side of his face. The warmth of her breath tickled his nose.

"I'm so tired. Every step is such a struggle," she confessed.

Bellamy lifted his hands from hers and pushed her hair behind her ears, letting his fingers come to rest at the nape of her neck. He held her face a few inches from his own and offered a lop-sided smile. "Hey. Anything worth having is worth fighting for, right?"

Clarke huffed in mild amusement. Though her voice revealed a renewed bit of hope, Clarke shook her head and argued, "Yeah, but Jasper was right. When do we stop trying to survive and start living?"

Bellamy scoffed. "Jasper's a drunk."

"Doesn't mean he's wrong," she stated flatly. "In all this chaos and suffering, what has ever made you think there can be anything else?" she challenged.

Anger flashed briefly in Bellamy's eyes. Anger at her for so callously asking that question when she ought to know the answer and anger at himself for not making it clear enough that she would never need to ask.

"You," Bellamy replied, meeting her challenge.

Clarke's spine straightened. She stared back at him, her wide-eyed gaze darting around his face, questioning.

Under the weight of her scrutiny, Bellamy's fingers twitched as he instinctively wanted to pull back to safety, away from the emotional torment of confessing his feelings to someone who might not share them or the heartbreak that would come if he made those feelings known, made them real, and then lost her.

But in that moment, both of these were outweighed by his fear that he could die without Clarke Griffin ever knowing that when he looked to the future and saw a life worth living, it was always with her.

"You are my life," Bellamy breathed before he tightened his grip on Clarke and crashed his lips to hers.

Clarke's hands grabbed his coat and dragged him forward, pulling him on top of her. His hands cradled her head and ran through her hair while hers explored his body. He moved one hand to squeeze her breast as she began to push his jacket off his shoulders.

"Guys, Raven's awake," interrupted the distant call of Murphy's voice echoing down the hallway.

Bellamy froze, forehead against Clarke's and let out a low exasperated cry.

Clarke laughed, and Bellamy grinned at the sound of it.

"I'm glad she's up, but her timing is awful," Clarke muttered.

Bellamy pulled back from Clarke and raised his eyebrows in "no shit" expression. Then he held out his hand to pull Clarke to her feet.

He was about to tell her that he would go check up on Raven while Clarke got some rest when she gripped his arms firmly.

"You're my life too," she said when Bellamy met her eyes.

Bellamy pulled her in to steal another kiss before they headed off to deal with their impending disaster. When he pulled away, he swept her hair from her face and assured her, "We will survive, and when we do, I promise you…" He paused to make sure every bit of every emotion he ever felt for this woman was expressed in his voice. With every bit of trust, admiration, desire, even disdain and annoyance - every emotion that composed his love for her, he swore, "We will live."

Silence hung in the room until slowly the corners of Clarke's lips curved upward, and her eyes sparkled with hope.

"Yes. We'll live."