"...you're forgiven….please come inside."

Bellamy didn't, couldn't know just how much Clarke wanted to step over the threshold of Camp Jaha, to follow her fellow Skypeople into the familiar, if ramshackle, base that they'd created here on Earth. She looked numbly at the scene before her: the refugees from Mt. Weather were making their way toward the medical pod, some limping, some supporting one another...Raven in Wick's arms, her own mother on a makeshift stretcher holding tight to Kane's hand. Clarke's thoughts were repetitious, looping around and around her head. "They're alive. They're safe. They're alive. My people survived." Saving her friends, her family...it was a victory. Yet every step she had taken since the control room felt heavier than the one before, every gesture more labored. Yes, she had rescued them all from Mt. Weather, but at what cost?

She registered a small pain in her palms. Looking down, Clarke saw that her fists were clenched by her side, her nails digging into the soft, dirty flesh of her hands. With considerable effort, she relaxed and flexed her digits outward. Clarke was self-aware enough to know that her current state of numb confusion was only the beginning. She understood that the last few days, and the decisions she had made as leader, would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Suddenly the thought of entering the camp with Bellamy seemed impossible. His forgiveness wasn't enough. There would never be enough forgiveness for the things she had done. He breathing hitched, and Clarke suddenly felt as though all of her clothes were too tight. She turned to look into Bellamy's eyes, saw the concern there. He looked so tired, so much older than he was. His time inside Mt. Weather had aged him. That was her fault too. And yet here he stood, offering Clarke forgiveness and friendship and solidarity. She held his gaze, her breathing coming rapidly now, her heart rate quickening. Her hands tugged at her jacket, she couldn't get enough air.

"Take care of them for me," she tried to say, but it came out in a hoarse gasp.

"Clarke? Clarke, are you ok?" She felt Bellamy's hand on her shoulders, but his voice sounded so far away. She could barely hear him over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. She squinted into his face, but her vision was narrowing. Why was it so hard to breathe?

"Jesus, Clarke, talk to me!" Bellamy's voice was louder this time, he was shouting at her. Then she closed her eyes and heard no more.