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I am alllll about BellamyxClarke right now.
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Damn. It's the last thought he has as the freak leopard… thing leapt at him.
…
"Open the gate!" A loud, booming voice lures Abby out of the med bay in time to see the hunting patrol she'd (Clarke…)sent out earlier this morning stumbling through the gate, covered in blood.
"Oh my god!" She rns to meet them, inspecting each member quickly until she comes to a limp Bellamy lain out on a pseudo stretcher. "Get him to the med bay." Abby is using her chancellor voice and the other men carry him off as she grabs Byrne's by the shoulder. "What happened?"
Byrnes regards her thoughtfully, it's clear that even Byrnes considers Clarke to be the one in charge now. Deciding that it won't hurt to fill Abby in Byrnes finally says in a short voice, "He was attacked by that." She motions behind her to the other men that are carrying in the large feline. Abby nods and rushes off to the med bay.
Bellamy is muttering something when Abby approaches the table, pulling on sterile gloves. "What?" She leans in closer to him and can hear what he is saying all too clearly.
"Clarke…" his voice is weak, but determined. "I want Clarke…"
"Clarke is busy with Lexa, Bellamy. You'll have to settle for me." Abby is growing extremely irritated with the way everyone is treating her around her. She sets in to cut the shreds of fabric masquerading as Bellamy's shirt.
"Clarke," he says more forcefully this time. With a grunt he attempts to push himself up on his elbow.
"No, Bellamy. You're wasting time. Lay down." She pushes down on his shoulder gently and he pushes back. Despite his injuries he is stronger than Abby and is gasping for breath by the time he finally fights his way into a sitting position. "Fine," she says after a moment. The poor boy looks like he is going to pass out or die right there on the table. "I'll go get Clarke." She removes her gloves, taking them off with such force that the latex makes a loud slapping sound.
"Clarke," Abby enters into the war room and immediately feels uncomfortable under the harsh stares that the leaders of the Grounders give her. Lifting her chin slightly, refusing to let them see how uncomfortable she is, she addresses her daughter once more. "Clarke, Bellamy is in the med bay and he needs you."
"Tell him it can wait. This is important." Clarke's words are obviously a dismissal and the leaders all begin speaking again.
Irritated, Abby raises her voice, "Clarke. Bellamy needs you right now. It's important; he was attacked by an animal and the longer you stand here and argue with me the more blood he loses. So, are you coming or am I to tell him that you have more important things to tend to?" To her surprise, Clarke actually hesitates and glances around the leaders. She speaks something to them that Abby doesn't understand and then she gets up and walks briskly past her mother without so much as a glance at her.
…
"Bellamy!" Clarke's eyes widen when she sees her friend sitting up on the table, bloody and pale. "What the hell happened to him?" She glances up at the others in the room as she gently pushes Bellamy back into a laying position. They quickly fill her in as she cuts his shirt from his skin. "Bellamy, you have got to stop doing this to me." She smiles slightly at him and despite himself he smiles back weakly. "I have to clean this out and it's not going to feel too great, okay?" He nods and lays his head back, casting his glassy eyes up to the ceiling.
He knows that it's not going to feel good. How many times has Clarke had to stitch him back up and clean out his wounds? This is nothing new to him. At least that's what he thought. Seconds after lying back on the table, Clarke is pouring something over his chest and at first the coolness of the liquid is welcome. Then, slowly, it begins to feel like she has set his entire chest on fire.
"Bellamy," she says to him. He's surprised her voice can reach him through the fire blazing on his chest. "There are some spots where your shirt went into the claw marks; I have to take it out." Her voice is strained and that worries him.
"Do what you gotta do, princess." His voice isn't as strong as he'd like and he closes his eyes tightly in preparation.
"Clarke, do you want to use some of the lidocain we have?" Abby's voice comes from near the wall of medicine they have.
"No," Clarke answers shortly. "We might need that for something more serious. Bellamy will be fine." Though her voice is calm and steady she feels less confident as she looks up at Bellamy's pale face. Very out of character for her, she grabs hold of his hand and gives it a brief, but firm, squeeze of reassurance. His eyes dart quickly to meet hers just as she begins extracting the shirt from the wound. Pain explodes from his ribs and moves like quick fire up and down his abdomen. Bellamy's world spins and his stomach threatens mutiny as she moves the tweezers inside of him. Just as the edges of his vision go black the intense pain stops. He didn't realize until that moment that he had been clutching the sides of the table, when he spreads his fingers out they ache ever so slightly. He sighs with relief and then Clarke, her voice full of apology, says, "There's more in there, Bell. Just hold on another minute." He nods his head, not trusting his voice, just as she's going back under his skin. "Okay," she says soothingly, standing over him and pushing the thick curls off of his sweat covered forehead. "The wound is cleaned out. The hard part's over, yeah? You've had plenty of stitches since we've been here. Piece of cake, right?"
"Right," he answers through his teeth, his jaw is starting to ache from clenching it so hard. She was right though, after digging through his body the stitches are nothing, he hardly even feels them. Once he's completely sewn shut again Clarke rinses her hands off in a small bowl of water beside the table. "Were you with the Grounders?" She doesn't answer him, instead she changes the subject.
"I swear to God, Bellamy Blake," she turns to look at him, a severe look on her face. "If you ever do something like this again I will personally kill you, got it?"
"Yeah," he answers hotly. "Because I wanted to be ripped to shreds by a giant radioactive freak cat."
"You could have died, Bellamy! You have got to be more careful!" She sighs heavily and sits beside him on the bed, glaring down at him.
"I'll be fine, stop worrying so much about everything."
"Well, someone has to do it since you're off trying to get yourself killed." She lifts her hand to her forehead and leans heavily into it.
"Hey," Bellamy pushes himself into a halfway upright position, wincing, he puts a hand on her shoulder. "Really, don't worry about me."
"Bellamy, you don't get it. Tonight just…" she pauses, lifts her head from her hand and stares at him, emotions swirl in her eyes that Bellamy can't quite place. "You have to be more careful. We need you. I need you. Promise you'll be more careful." Her honest to God concern for him pulls him up short briefly.
"Of course, princess. I'd never do anything reckless." And with a wink he reaches out and grabs her hand before adding more seriously, "I need you too, you know."