Day 29

Clarke

Clarke leaned Bellamy against her shoulder and started back towards their camp. He was murmuring gibberish, things she couldn't understand. "The Ark," and "Mom," and "Octavia." The only word she really could pick out of the string of phrases was "Clarke," which warmed her heart and made her forget for a split second that he was about to die and it didn't matter what he was saying.

Her arm was sore, when they got back. She shouldn't have noticed- it was selfish of her to notice something so minute when her best friend had a spear in his chest- but it did hurt, and she knew she had to push the thought out of her mind, but it wasn't fair… she was just a kid Just a scared little girl who depended on her best friend to hunt for her and make sure they both survived… and he was going to die, and she was going to die, but even if she survived, he would be gone, and the world seemed like it was going to end, like it was falling to pieces…

And her mind rambled and rambled on, thinking of all the possibilities and each one leading to her inevitable death, or agonizing grief, or both. She couldn't think like this, and she knew that Bellamy would've yelled at her if he was awake, for thinking instead of doing, for worrying instead of working, but she couldn't help it.

Fingernails clenched into the palm of her hand. She squeezed, harder and harder, drawing blood. Her mind cleared as this first drop of her blood dripped onto the ground, all rambling thoughts pushed out of her brain. She had to do this. Had to save him.

Clarke laid Bellamy out on the ground. She looked through the box they had stuffed in the corner of their lean-to and rifled through the medicine and equipment.

The helplessness overwhelmed her, for a few seconds. She knew none of the tools in the kit, had no idea how to use any of them. She was useless. The desperation took over her body, her every thought. For 3 seconds. And then, she snapped herself out of it. He wasn't going to die. He couldn't. She was going to save him. She had to, after everything they'd been through together. After all the times he'd saved her.

Some of the medicine looked familiar, even though she had no idea where she had seen them before. A soothing voice was in her head, telling her things. Names of tools. This was a scalpel. This was painkiller. This was antibiotic ointment.

She carried the kit to Bellamy. He was pale and clammy, sweat shining on his face. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head. Clarke closed her eyes for a second, determined not to vomit, and focused on his wound instead of his face.

There was no blood coming out of the spear, which she assumed was good.

The voice in her head told her to put pressure on Bellamy's wound. It told her to use a the ointment. It told her to wrap him up with a bandage.

It didn't tell her very much. It wasn't a miracle worker. But it was enough. Clarke was able to put together the pieces. Maybe this was the guardian angel she had been looking for.

Bellamy was still moaning. Over and over- "Clarke. Clarke. Clarke." And, quieter, and more infrequently- "Octavia. Octavia."

Clarke sighed after she was done. She poured some water done Bellamy's throat, and looked at his arm. It was awful, and very limp. The voice didn't give her any information, so she decided to put it out of her mind. Her fingers brushed away his curly hair from his forehead, sweat causing it to stick.

What would she do without Bellamy? If he didn't wake up? The thoughts made her want to throw up, to curl up in a ball and shurt her eyes to the world forever, but they flooded in, making her heart skip and her stomach to drop and her mind to become dizzy, the whole world spinning. Who would she talk to during hunting trips? Who would she confide in around the fire, that she was actually a little scared? Who would she lay down next to when it was cold? Who would she make eye contact with when she was lonely? She couldn't survive Earth without him, not just because she couldn't hunt, but because he was Bellamy, and she needed him. She had taken him for granted, and she would be punished for that in the worst possible way.

Clarke tried to stay awake to watch her friend. She fell asleep curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder.

Pain. All she felt was pain. Pain, both internal and external, pounding pain in her temple, pain from hunger, ripping through her body, pain from her ankle, which was swollen and purple and as large as a balloon… and pain from loneliness, ripping, agonizing pain in her chest. She missed… someone, although she didn't remember who. She missed someone. Everything started to spin, round and round and round… and slowly, the door in the front of the room she was in opened.

Clarke jolted awake. The dreams were getting worse. She tried to suppress them… the agony of them was unbearable. But the memory-dreams kept on coming back.

That's what she thought they were. Memories, that were suppressed. Things she didn't remember. If she suppressed them even more, perhaps they would go away.

Clarke sat up next to Bellamy. He was better, his head less hot, his skin less pale, his wound less… well… bloody. Now that Bellamy was getting better, she had something else to worry about.

Clarke unwrapped the bandage that was around her knee. The wound was still there- she hadn't imagined it. The other night, she had fallen on a rock and scratched herself. She was fine… but blood that stained her knee wasn't.

Her blood was black. Black as ink. Black as midnight.

As far as Clarke could tell, she was fine. She wasn't sick. She wasn't dying. But she couldn't tell Bellamy. He would call her a freak, a monster. He would laugh at her, kick her out of the camp. She was a monster. Why would he share his food and shelter with a monster?

So she kept the blood a secret. And laying next to her friend near the fire, she had never felt more alone.

Bellamy

Bellamy woke up with Clarke curled beside him, her chest slowly rising and falling. He smiled to himself, before he felt the pain in his arm and his chest. A groan escaped his lips, which instantly woke Clarke up.

"You're awake!" She started tearing up, and launched herself on him in a hug.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow." He complained. His whole body ached, and stabbing pains pierced his chest. Fatigue seemed to weigh down on him, and he felt himself being pulled deeper and deeper into sleep.

But he couldn't. Because of Clarke. Sometimes, he hated feeling so protective of her.

He groggily lifted himself up, propping his body with shaking arms. He was weak, with hunger and fatigue. Weak, with pain.

"Hey. Slow down." Clarke was still smiling. Her stomach growled loudly, and she winced a little, but otherwise, she didn't show any pain. She was pretty good at hiding her hunger. But not good enough.

"We need food, Clarke." Bellamy reminded her.

"And I have some." Clarke dangled a piece of meat over Bellamy's head. The smell seemed to overtake everything else, and he grabbed and quickly swallowed it before thinking. It was delicious.

"Where did you-" Bellamy started.

"I hunted. I wasn't just going to wait for you to wake up to eat, Sleeping Beauty." She winked.

"You…" Blood boiled in his vein. He was asleep, and she was alone, in the woods, with no one to protect her. What was she thinking? "You went by yourself? We're not alone here, Clarke!"

"Yeah, I know. But someone had to do it." She passed him another piece of meat. "And I'm going to have to start hunting for you. You're not going to die-" She looked almost giddy with the relief- "But you're not going to be able to hunt for a long while." She frowned in sympathy. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

A sigh escaped his lips, his heart slowing down to its normal beat. She was fine, and he was with her, and that was all that mattered, for now. "Hey, it's fine. Thanks for saving my life. I'd rather be alive with a broken arm than dead." He gave her a half smile. Her mouth quirked up in response, but her eyes were somewhere else, her mind in knots. She wasn't there, with him... there was something going on, something he didn't know about. She subconsciously rubbed her knee... a bandage was covering it.

"You're OK, right?"

Clarke jumped, meeting Bellamy's eyes. She looked like a frightened, small rabbit, a rabbit afraid for its life. He'd never seen her like this before.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Clarke shook her head, and her smile reached her eyes. "Go back to sleep, silly."

He leaned back, and as he felt Clarke beside him, he realized that with his best friend beside him, he had never felt less alone.