Author's note: As always, I simply wrote this because I am a Bellarke fan. I love this show and it's characters and I try to describe them as much in character as possible, but sometimes a fangirl needs to give in to creativity and turn more to the Bellarke side than the show probably would ;) So: No hate please ;)

It's not as long or as elaborate as I once intended, but S 5 is on the way, so I just wanted to give you the chance to read this beforehand.

I also want to add that I am not a native speaker, so please be patient with any mistakes that might appear.

This story is dedicated to a good friend of mine; a huge Clexa admirer who still reads every story I publish, no matter how "Bellarkish" it is. Thanks for your support, and "Ste yuj"!

Chapter One – Like A Whisper

As his eyes fell closed his constant worries for his sister materialized in visions of her death, caused by the radiation. Her eyes were searching for his as she gasped in pain. Her face was covered in blisters and her hair was matted to her forehead as she was sweating profusely. Subconsciously Bellamy – of course – expected her hair to be black and braided. Yet as he watched her, he realized it was a light blonde, slightly wavy even. Her name came to his mind and right as he wanted to say it out loud, he suddenly found that it really was Clarke looking at him. She was just as sick as Octavia had been, coughing up blood. It left dark trails running down her pale neck. Her whole body was trembling violently. Bellamy reached out, trying to comfort her, to help her in any way. But just as his fingertips were about to reach her, she was gone. Gone like a whisper that had faded in the dark of the night.

His eyes opened heavily as his mind slowly brought him back to reality. He was lying on his bed in one of the Rooms in the Ring. And Clarke wasn't there. Seeing her in such pain had shocked him. Bellamy wiped a hand across his face, just like he always did when he felt stressed, and found his brow was covered in sweat. He thought about trying to get more sleep but felt too wide awake and restless.

Deep inside he somehow felt the urgent need to look down on earth, so he got dressed and opened the door of his sleeping room. Right outside on the opposite wall was one of the larger windows. Up until now Bellamy had carefully avoided the view, apart from his conversation with Raven earlier that day. It only reminded him of what he had left behind… who he had left behind without a chance to say goodbye.

After this nightmare however, earth drew his gaze like a magnet. Bellamy couldn't resist the urge and stood in front of the window. In some regions the raging fires had already ceased. It looked almost peaceful. Quiet… and dead. He felt a pain in his heart he had never felt before. A tear ran down his cheek. At that moment he felt he wouldn't have cared a bit if he had been caught in Praimfaya just as long as he could've stayed. At least that way he would've had a chance to say goodbye to the people he cared about most. He knew Octavia and the others in the bunker were probably okay since the bunker had been fully operational.

But that was just the thing with people you care about: Even when chances are high that they didn't get in harm's way … you will never stop worrying entirely. Octavia was always on his mind. Yet his thoughts kept returning to Clarke more frequently. Her nightblood might have saved Luna but was it still strong enough when only being injected instead of inherited?

"Clarke, it's safer on our side" he pleaded with her as she dropped her pack only a few paces away from the grounders. "We need to trust them, Bellamy. There are no more sides." Clarke held his gaze for a moment longer, determined, and went to lie down. Bellamy turned back to "their" side before he followed her example reluctantly. If she wanted to do this, he would, too. But only to keep her safe…

"How did you know it was Gustus?" Lincoln's question brought out more answers than Bellamy had wanted to give: "He'd do anything for her. Protect her." As he said this, Bellamy realized that deep inside, he was no longer talking about Gustus and Lexa… Octavia seemed to grasp the hidden meaning behind his words. But something inside of him rebelled against the thought of her drawing conclusions about a feeling he himself could neither place nor was even sure it existed. To distract both Octavia and himself from this train of thought, Bellamy added a little louder: "Just makes sense."

Bellamy realized that, over time, he had become just as protective of Clarke as he had been of Octavia. His thoughts returned to when they were to dine with Lexa to honor their freshly made truce: Bellamy might not have sat next to Clarke at the table, but the instant they all realized Gustus had been poisoned, he was by her side, knocking the cup out of her hands. Clarke had held the cup at her side; she hadn't even brought it anywhere close to her lips but Bellamy's instincts made him react way faster than anyone else in the room...

Later that day, when Clarke had told Lexa the poison hadn't been in the bottle, Bellamy's utter faith in her judgement had been the only thing keeping him from knocking the bottle out of her hands, too. As Bellamy watched closely, Clarke took a sip of the supposedly poisoned drink; he held his breath without realizing it…

"You should go." Her words hadn't exactly come unexpected that night. And he had agreed. But the lack of emotion in Clarkes voice had made Bellamy question her: "I thought you hated that plan? That I'd get myself killed."

Her answer, again rid of any emotion, had only confused him further: "I was being weak."
Just as he had been about to ask her what she thought she had been weak about, Clarke had added in her usual leader's voice: "It's worth the risk."…

Supplying him with a map and a very brief instruction, she briskly wished him good luck. Without looking at Bellamy so much more than a second, Clarke left. For a moment, he felt hurt by her seemingly uncaring demeanor. But then he remembered how hard she seemingly had to try to keep her emotions in check. On this night it became clear to Bellamy that putting on a mask was the only way for her to be able to make such a decision. Clarke had just lost someone very close to her. He understood how hard it had to be for her to now send another friend into harm's way intentionally. It was a decision leaders had to make but he admired Clarke for being able to do it at times like these…

Following his thoughts, other memories came into his mind, unbidden and - he hesitated to admit it - painful.

"Bellamy?" He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Clarke?" His voice wouldn't obey him completely as her name fell from his lips. He had never felt this relieved to hear her speak. Both their nerves were frayed, both voices shaking just the tiniest bit as they quickly exchanged information and tried to figure out what Bellamy could do from the inside to help the rest of the 100; apparently, their situation was more dangerous than expected…

"Trojan horse… Good plan." "What does Maya think? Is it doable?" Maya shook her head, but Bellamy was in no way ready to give up. Despite that, he also knew Clarke was worried enough; but he needed her to be strong and confident if they wanted to pull this off on their own… The lie came easily: "She says it's not a problem."

After finishing the plan for their next steps, she called his name in a softer tone: "Bellamy?" She was talking to him as her friend now. "You came through. I knew you would." The faith she placed in him had never swayed.

For the smallest instant Bellamy allowed his insecurity to show: "All I've done so far is not get killed." Again, she helped him by falling back into her leader's role: "Keep doing that."

Bellamy began to shiver involuntarily as his loss suddenly became much clearer to him than he wanted it to be…

Bellamy had been awake for a while but allowed his eyes to stay closed for a while longer. When Clarke had sat down earlier to write the list she had gladly accepted his offer to keep her company. He didn't want her to be all alone when having to make such difficult decisions. Clarke however, had also told him at least one of them should get some rest. He knew she felt it was her task to make the list, and although he wanted to help her, Bellamy knew she wouldn't let him. Reluctantly, he had stayed on the small couch while she sat on the other side of the room. Clarke had pulled out a long sheet of paper and had begun looking through her notes. Although they didn't speak, there was a silent understanding that he was there for her if she wanted or needed his advice. As Bellamy had let his eyes fell close for a while, the scratching of Clarkes pen, the rustling of papers and the muted sounds of people working outside lulled him into sleep…

Now he heard something different… An almost inaudible sob. Bellamy opened his eyes and got up. Clarke was holding a hand to her head and tears were glistening in her eyes. She swallowed, looked up at him and back down on the list. When he saw his own name on the 99th spot, he understood why she was crying.

Back then he had written down her name, because she couldn't. And now she had done what he couldn't have. She had stayed, facing death and saving them once again. She had always been ready to sacrifice herself. When they had finished the list, he had thought she would be safe, that he could stop her from giving her life. It had all been in vain because now, he couldn't save her.

Now, she was dead and he was alive and it was like the list she had made. Then, he had told Clarke he wouldn't leave her, that they had to get through this together, whether to live or to die. That there was no way he would take a spot on a list where Clarkes name wasn't included.

And here he was, without her and just like Bellamy had feared on this seemingly endless time ago in their office in Arkadia, he just didn't know how to get through this.

"You still have hope?" she asked him, tears in her eyes. "Are we still breathing?" What a stupid answer. He had been so naïve. Life was about so much more than just breathing. Just like they had done so much more for each other than just working together to survive.

Bellamy didn't hide the tears that were rolling down his face. He wouldn't. Clarke had done more than just keeping them alive. She had kept them together and sane, no matter what they had had to face. She had kept him sane even when his own sister had despised him.

Earth looked so dead to him. Bellamy just couldn't imagine Clarke was still alive, no matter how much he wished for it. He felt his heart break just a bit more than it already had as he could see her before his inner eye: Lying on the ground, as dead and motionless as the world around her, covered in radiation burns and the blood she had coughed up…

Bellamy was shocked. Simply shocked when Clarke tore off the helmet of her suit. "Clarke, what are you doing?!" She inhaled deeply, but he could hear a trace of fear in her voice: "I have nightblood."

"Untested nightblood!" He wanted to shake her, but before he could question her any further, Clarke stated matter-of-factly: "We're testing it now."

Bellamy would have given her his suit if it had helped. But he knew what would happen if he did. That made it all the harder for him when Clarke suddenly began coughing up blood. With shaking hands, he held the radio and urged Monty to hurry up…

He would never forget that sight; or her pale face as they were preparing the rocket.

Sweat covered her brow, and her skin had turned almost as white as the walls of the lab they were in. "So is cold sweat." Gently, he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. At that moment, he just couldn't help himself. He wanted to comfort her, to help her in any way possible. Bellamy was worried about her condition; even though Clarke hadn't allowed herself to show any weakness, Bellamy knew her enough to see she was sick and getting weaker…

Although Bellamy knew he needed the rest if he wanted to be of any use tomorrow he remained on his spot for a long time, always gazing down on earth. How was it that earth could be seen so clearly and yet feel so far away?

He didn't know how much time had passed, and truth be told he didn't really care, but a while later his legs began to feel heavy, so Bellamy dragged himself back into his room, practically falling onto his bed. The visions of the two women dying just wouldn't leave his mind. He felt a chill come over him and covered himself in a warmer blanket. Eventually he again fell into a restless sleep.