Clarke felt the fetid leaves beneath her cheek. She had laid her head down a few hours ago. The weight of her neck too much to bear. She had laid on her arm, but her neck had lolled to the side. She wasn't strong enough to sit up now. The sepsis sapping all her strength.

The view she had was of the forest floor. Her hand outstretched in front of her. Bellamy would make it, that was what was in important.

She felt tears brim her eyes as she thought of the way his fingertips had felt against her skin. It was such an innocent touch, but now she would never get to see what could've been. After her decision at Mount Weather she had lost a piece of herself. Then Lexa's death had shattered any sense of self she had rebuilt. How could losing someone be more painful dying. Dying was peaceful, a release, living, going on without the person you loved was the real hell. Lexa's voice sounded inside her head. How could she give up so easily, without fighting? She knew the answer, so the people she still cared about would live.

Clarke's fingertips dig into the rich earth as concentrated on her breathing. She felt the fever flood her veins with more poison with each breath she took.

She took a shuddering breath and let the tears fall. No one would see her this weak, the trees would keep her secret. She wasn't strong, she wasn't a leader. She was just a girl who had lost everything.

She closed her eyes and sighed as the tears continued to drop from her eyes. Finn's dark smirk flashed in front of her. She grimaced as she felt the blade sink into his chest.

Clarke jerked slightly as the hallucination came full circle and she stared at the forest floor again. She tried to stay awake but the demons came back. Dragging her down. Lexa's smiled at her as they laid in bed together. Clarke traced the deep groves of her tattoos along her back. For such a strong warrior, terribly hardened by her birthright, she was so beautiful. Lexa's bright green eyes flashed in challenge as she rolled atop Clarke, her braided hair falling around their faces creating a silky curtain that was scented with the earthy scent of Lexa. Lexa's deep scent enthralled Clarke. Lexa wiggled her hips making Clarke giggle and then the hardened blonde warrior moaned as Lexa began to suckle at the skin between Clarke's neck and shoulder.

Clarke felt the moisture of her lover's kiss and then began to scream as she realized it wasn't Lexa's kisses on her neck, but Lexa's lifeblood. Clarke was rocking back and forth with Lexa in her arms. Her lifeless corpse a broken doll, a sad imitation of the woman who was so full of life just minutes ago.

Clarke gasped awake as the nightmare released her.

"Please stop. Let me die. Why do you have to do this to me?" She whispered to no one. No one gave her an answer, no one imparted wisdom. She took another breath and tried not to fall asleep again. She didn't want anymore nightmares, but she couldn't fight the fever or the exhaustion.

Skin peeled hands, rotting digits dragging along her legs. Clarke stood in the middle of Mount Weather as her victims swarmed around her. Their dead corpses animated, jerking with unholy life. Maya, sweet Maya, grabbed at her shirt and ripped away Clarke's clothing and bra. The corpse dragged her decomposing nails through Clarke's skin. Putrid liquid squirted from beneath nails. Dragging the foul smelling fluid into Clarke's bleeding wounds. Her victims irradiated skin sloughed off as they crawled towards her. Clarke screamed wordlessly as they began to tear her apart. She looked down and a bleeding pale Finn began to reach for her knee. When she tried to run, Lexa, dead, with her head blown out the back wrapped her arms around Clarke from behind.

"You belong with us. Bringer of Death, death is what you are good at. You are no healer, you are a murderer. A killer, so good at it, so talented in bringing it to others."

"Clarke! Clarke can you hear me!?" Clarke felt like her blood was on fire. She opened her eyes to Bellamy holding her face in his head.

"Clarke?" He asked.

"Sorry, so sorry." She whispered.

Kane kept holding Clarke's face in his hands. Trying to revive her.

"Did she say something?" Ajay asked as Kane tried to revive Clarke. Kane shook his head. Clarke hadn't regained consciousness.

Clarke shot awake and instantly regretted the sharp movement. Her muscles were still atrophied and weak. She had barely any muscle mass left and felt like a living skeleton. Her bones jutted out from her skin, making a mockery of what little strength she could form. She glanced at the clock. It jeered at her by blinking 02:43 am back at her. Running a hand down her face she tried to massage feeling back into her face. Swinging her legs over he side of the bed she planted her feet on the cold steel floor of her quarters.

She pulled up her shirt to reveal her abdomen. The jagged scar the only reminder she had been so close to death. Her fingers trembled as she traced the rough skin.

"Well, I'm not going back to sleep. Fuck off, all of you." She growled at her demons. She had always had nightmares since the becoming a grounder. They had started when she put Atom down. The nightmares of Wells' death and Charlotte's suicide. She had thought those were bad. Then she had been introduced to the big leagues. She was barely staying afloat then. She was lucky she wasn't insane. Or maybe it would be better if she was mad, mad people don't seem to mind being crazy and they certainly don't sweat the big stuff, like the apocalyptic wave of burning radiation heading their way.

Clarke popped her neck and stood up stretching her weakened muscles and flexing her stiff fingers. Her muscles were slowly redeveloping, but she couldn't shake this really weird permanent stiffness and temperature drop in her fingers. There was probably serious circulation damage, but she couldn't dwell on that. Pulling her hair up into a high ponytail she pulled on a pair of cargo pants and black t-shirt. She pulled on her jacket last. She had worried they wouldn't be able to salvage it after the had cut it off her, but Monty had found a way to put it back together.

Heading to the makeshift Arkadia mess hall she grabbed a strong cup of coffee and stepped outside into the sad version of a courtyard they had. Not a soul was awake at this hour, while she appreciated the quiet, it was also the darkest part of the night. Something eerie always floated on the air at this time. Flexing her fingers again, she figured maybe she would start painting again. She hadn't been able to indulge in that particular vice since she'd been sent to the ground. She had already done the math and with the amount of supplies they had the number of people they had in Arkadia the bunker wasn't big enough for even half their people. Might as well enjoy the time we have left.

She wasn't going to take up space in that salvation raft. Weak as she was, she wasn't sure that she wouldn't end up comatose again if she ended up malnourished. No, her coma had perfect timing. Making her comatose for the last seven weeks of living she could do, and just weak enough to be a liability if enclosed in the bunker.

"Shit." She breathed and her breath puffed through the open air in a cloud of white.

"Something on your mind?" A voice said from behind her.

Clarke didn't turn, she knew the voice all to well, "What are you doing up at this time?"

"Same thing as you." Bellamy replied.

"Contemplating fate?" Clarke supplied sardonically.

"Nah, too deep for me. Couldn't sleep." He said quietly and took a seat on a makeshift bench.

Clarke nodded and took the seat next to him and sipped her coffee.

They were both silent. Strangely, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. They were comfortable just breathing in the night air together, not talking was fine.

Clarke eventually broke the silence, "Aren't you going to ask me if I'm okay?" She joked.

"Why? I already know the answer. We are both too fucked up to ever be fine again." He said sipping his own coffee.

"Gee, don't sugar coat it." Clarke said.

Bellamy shrugged, "It's always been the truth between us. I don't see any reason to change that now." He said staring off into the distant forest, not really looking at anything.

"The truth, huh? Some truth." Clarke grumbled and sat her cup on the bench standing up.

"What's the matter?" Bellamy said reclining in his same position, crossing his ankles casually in front of him.

"We both nearly died, you from exertion, me from sepsis and we are all going to have to make some horrible decisions in the next few days and you're just good the way it is? Truth? We don't know the meaning of the word." Clarke spat pouring out her coffee.

"What are you talking about?" Bellamy asked setting his coffee to the side.

"Let's see. We are only a few days away from certain death, no supplies and barely enough room for half our people to survive in an ancient bunker. Or let's look at the pst three years. We killed hundreds in Mount Weather! Hundreds, we made that decision. Maybe Primafaya is justice. The price we have to pay for our sins."

Bellamy didn't speak for a second, "You are sleep deprived." He judged, shaking off her declaration.

Clarke squatted, her knees jutting out as she sat on her haunches as if the world was weighing her down, "Bellamy, haven't you ever wondered why we can't find peace. We haven't had any semblance of peace since we sentenced to crash to this earth," on the word earth she sank her fingers into the dirt, "We haven't had one moment of peace. Grounders, lack of food, Mount Weather, Ally, now this wave of radiation. No wonder I can't sleep. This is punishment."

Bellamy sat forward, "Punishment? For what?"

"For taking a life, taking so many lives." Clarke whispered, the past haunting her. Not just her past on the ground, but before that. She had lost her father, because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. She had lost her freedom because of this so called truth.

Bellamy went to his own knees in front of Clarke, "Clarke you didn't take anyone's life. You can't bear that burden alone. We both pulled that switch at Mount Weather. It wasn't our fault, we had to do it." Bellamy tried to touch her hand, built she jerked away.

"I'm not talking about just Mount Weather. Don't you see! Everyone I love dies! My dad, Finn, Lexa. I bring death to everyone I love! I really am Wanheda." She whispered, fear dilating her pupils.

Bellamy couldn't stand to see that look of such abject terror on her face, "No! No! You are Clarke Griffin, not Wanheda. Don't let that into your head." Bellamy commanded. He tried to pull her into a hug, but she pushed him away.

He watched helplessly as she stumbled away, "Fuck." He cursed as he couldn't do anything but stand there.


Clarke laid in her bed that afternoon staring at the ceiling. She had run herself into exhaustion and then sponge bathed in order to conserve what water they had. Her mother had checked in on her earlier, but she was so consumed with checking inventory for the trip that she had to get back to the medbay as soon as possible. Jackson was assisting her, but they were swamped.

Someone knocked lightly on her door, "It's open." She said hoarsely. She hadn't drank much water today, but she didn't really care about it either way. If she was going to die by primafaya anyways, why waste resources.

"Hey." Bellamy said entering and closing the door behind him as he walked towards her. He held two cups of water.

He didn't ask for permission, he just sat down in front of her bed. Setting both cups of water in the floor he met her eyes.

"Bellamy, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be doing a perimeter check?" Clarke asks turning towards him slightly.

"Eh, not much of a perimeter left. Most people are heading towards the bunker. If they're not on their way, they're packing to go that way." He explained.

"Why aren't you with them?" Clarke asked.

"I pulled my name from the list." He said without explanation.

"You can't do that. You have to go with Octavia. Be the balance, help her lead with Indra." Clarke exclaimed.

Bellamy shook his head, "I already discussed it with O. I saw that you pulled your name from the list. You don't go, I don't go." He said gently.

Clarke shook her head and reached to cup his cheek. Love for this stupid man overfilling every protective instinct for her heart she had.

She stopped reaching for him, once she realized what she was doing. She started to pull her hand back when he captured it and tugged it to his face. Her fingers caressed the toughness of cheek. Even with a light stopping of stubble his cheek still felt wonderful under her grip. Hard as granite, he was chiseled from stone, but so welcoming that she forgot for a second why they never found each other before this.

Bellamy sighed, then placed his hand over her own. Ignoring her outburst he asked, "Why the hell are your hands so cold?" He took her other hand and the one from his face and cupped then between his own. Then he blew warm arm into the small space lightly rubbing her frigid digits.

Clarke shrugged, "Weird left over symptom. Bellamy—" She began.

He stopped her by leaning over suddenly and kissing her. He didn't want to hear her argument, could care less about her logic. Clarke was so stunned she didn't move. But when he deepend the kiss by running his tongue lightly against her lips, asking for entrance, she obliged. He didn't hesitate and tasted her fully. Taking his time in kissing her fully. He had kissed so many women, but Clarke was what he had dreamed about. Gently he cupped her face, and kept kissing her, taking the time to feel every curve of her face. Tasting each lip by kissing both her top and bottom.

He didn't stop until she gently placed her hand on his jacket. He met her eyes once he stopped touching her, "Why did you do that?" Confusion, and lust clouding her gaze. Bellamy loved the look of innocent confusion and desire swirling in her eyes.

He shrugged, "I promised myself if you ever woke up , I'd do that. I gave it a week. I should be nominated for sainthood, don't you think?" He jeered.

Clarke smiled, "More devil than saint." She mused.

Bellamy chuckled, "Devils has more fun anyways." He said mischievously and kissed her once more chastely on the lips.

They didn't speak for a minute, just staying at each other. His gaze turned serious, "Your my life, Clarke. Octavia is my family, but so are you. I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you became someone I don't want to live without." He blurted.

Clarke sat dumbfounded for a minute. His confession making her head spin as much as his kisses had.

"What are you saying?" She asked.

Bellamy didn't think about sorting through his words, he just said what he felt, "Even if we've only got a few days. I want to be the one you come to with the nightmares. I want to hold you, in the dark, so you aren't afraid. I want you to hold me, love me. I l-love you, Clarke." He whispered the last with a slight stammer.

"Bellamy, you don't have to do this. You don't have to say this just because we are going to die." She said.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. Even when he poured his soul out for her, she still didn't believe him. He couldn't really blame her. He hadn't set the best examples, sleeping with half the camp, always doing the wrong thing, always doing the rash thing, but he knew this was right. She was meant for him.

"You are it for me, Clarke." She started to argue but he shook his head and covered her lips with his hand. "No. Don't argue. You don't have the feel the same way, and I understand if you don't. You've been hurt a lot, so I get it. But if we only have a couple of days I needed to say that. More importantly I needed you to hear that. I've got to go talk with Monty before he leaves for the bunker. I'll be back before lights out and we can talk more then, okay?"

Clarke nodded silently and watched him leave in stunned silence. Leaning down she took a swig of the water he had left for her. She wished it had been something a little stronger than water.