I finally had some downtime to write chapter three! Read, Enjoy, Review! I absolutely adore logging on and seeing all of the amazing reviews you guys are leaving me! It seriously makes my day!

"Clarke, there's another one." Octavia stuck her head into the drop ship, covering her mouth as Monroe coughed right in her face.

"Sorry Octavia." The younger girl moaned as she shuffled past Octavia, curling onto the pallet that she'd claimed as hers.

"No big deal." Octavia replied, sniffling and rubbing her red nose on her sleeve. "Jasper's coming in." She finished reporting to Clarke as the boy shuffled into the tent. Clarke frowned and turned away, violently hacking into her elbow for what felt like an eternity but was really only mere seconds. Her throat burned in agony and she had to close her eyes against the onslaught of dizziness.

"Thanks O. Now get out of here before you get sick." Clarke waved her away, not looking at the girl as she hurried over to where Jasper had practically collapsed.

"Hi Clarke." He sniffled, looking up at her with bloodshot eyes and snot dripping from his nose. Clarke was reminded of a young child looking up at their mom.

"Hey buddy." She smiled softly despite the pounding in her head. "There's not much I can do for you at this point. Just rest and drink lots of water. I'll make sure there's always a cup by your pallet, but you need to drink it or you aren't going to get better." She informed him. Jasper nodded and laid back where he was, dragging a rough blanket over his shoulders as he shivered, partly from the biting air and partly from the sickness the camp was all suffering from. All of them including Bellamy. He was improving, though not much, and Clarke had mainly moved him to the second level of the drop ship to clear room on the first floor for those emergency cases. She felt kind of lost without him standing behind her, ready to catch her if she fell or help her if she failed. The feeling of loneliness bit at her chest and made her cough weakly, turning away from Jasper so she didn't spatter mucus all over him.

"Thanks." Jasper murmured softly as she went to fill up a cup of water from the large bucket at the back of the drop ship. All she could hear were moans of the sick kids around her and the occasional loud coughs that seemed to deafen her in the crowded space. She'd organized them so the most sick were on the first floor, easily reached by her, and those who were only exhibiting minor symptoms were on the third level, followed by worsened symptoms on the second. Much like they'd been arranged when the Grounder's consumption had ravaged the camp not that long ago.

"Clarke, you need to rest." Finn's voice, hoarse and rough, came from his pallet near hers. "You're just as sick as the rest of us." His voice seemed to fade for a few seconds and then Clarke became aware that she was falling through the air, heading very fast towards the ground. She screwed her eyes shut and braced herself as best as she could for the cold impact with the hard floor of the drop ship, but it never came. Her eyes opened to see Bellamy standing over her, the faded redness of sickness passed dusting his cheeks. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, holding her weight, and he faintly realized that she was very thin. Too thin. He frowned at the sweat on her forehead and her drawn cheeks.

"Finn's right. I'll take care of them while you rest." He stared down at her, a glint in his eyes that Clarke couldn't comprehend. She weakly tried to struggle out of his arms, murmuring protests that had no velocity.

"You're still sick." She muttered, head resting heavily on Bellamy's chest. He suddenly seemed to realize her close proximity and cleared his throat, lying her on the empty pallet next to Finn.

"I feel better. A lot better than you do." He assured her, cutting off whatever she was going to say next. "What did I tell you about getting sick, Clarke? Let me help you." He commanded, turning his back to her and dipping a rag in the bucket of water. She sighed at the coolness that enveloped her as he drew the rag across her hot forehead and screwed her lips up into a pout.

"Fine." She muttered, casting her eyes downward. Bellamy stared down at her, almost smiling before shaking himself out of his stupor and standing up. She wasn't going to get better if he didn't help her. Shaking his head once more, he turned to make rounds around the ship, checking that every cup had water in it. The whole time, his thoughts were entertained with the sight of Clarke's pouty lips and how much he wished he could kiss them.

WAIT WHAT?!