It turns out, after all, that they're really unstoppable in more of a metaphorical way, Bellamy reflects. Because they are, in fact, briefly stopped by the fact that the kitchen lightbulb blows as they are washing up the remains of their breakfast. And he finds his mind jumping to the question of what might happen in darkness, and remembering Clarke curled up against him during movie night, and begins to think that really lightbulbs might be a bit of a waste of time after all. But then she asks him to replace it and because he's a gentleman and cares about her too much to make her completely uncomfortable, he goes in hunt of a lightbulb. It's old Earth technology he's not particularly familiar with – archaic electronics were not included in his guard training on the Ark – but he's a bright young man with at least a little common sense, he likes to think, so before long the kitchen is illuminated and they crack back on with being unstoppable.

There is something rather lovely about working on the maps and modeling with Clarke by his side. They complement each other best of all when they have a mission to accomplish, and they divide the tasks between them as they work through their shortlist, interrupting one another's thoughts frequently with trivial observations or lighthearted comments.

"This valley has a sea view, Bellamy." She's pointing to one of the shortlisted areas of the map. "How about that? Or, at least, it does if the sea still exists after all this."

"I think probably we should choose our future home based on functionality rather than aesthetics, Princess." He teases.

"Spoilsport. How could you prioritise food over the picturesque?"

"The picturesque? And you call me a nerd?" He says in tones of mock horror.

"Austen was the only old Earth literature I liked at school."

"Why does that not surprise me?" He can't resist continuing this conversation. "Something tells me you probably identified strongly with Elizabeth Bennet."

"I mean, we have already established that I like my love interests dark-haired and unconventional." She meets his gaze this time, unabashed, and he thinks that maybe he can see her heart in her eyes.

"What do Lexa kum Trikru and Fitzwilliam Darcy have in common?" He holds his breath, regretting the words the moment he says them, because he knows he's treading on dangerous ground here, but he's pleasantly surprised when she cracks a smile at his poor humour rather than melting into a storm of tears.

"I miss her, still, you know? But it's different now. It's like she said - the dead are gone, but the living are hungry."

"She'd be so proud of you, Clarke. Everything you've done and been both with her and without her." He wishes he'd known Lexa better, really. She must have been a pretty phenomenal woman, if Clarke loved her. He's surprised, given the content of their conversation, to find that she has reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

"Thank you."

He lets the silence settle for a moment, basking in the knowledge that they've taken another step forward together, before he draws her attention to the valley he is currently investigating.

"This one looks like a serious contender. Look, it's forecast to miss the brunt of the death wave because of this mountain range. It supported thick forest before Praimfaiya, so if it escapes the worst I see no reason why it shouldn't still be forested. So there would be game. And this map shows a few villages here, so it must have been suitable for crops and so on. There's a lake here, so fresh water. And the prevailing wind blows this way, so that sand storms from that big patch of dessert shouldn't encroach too far on it." As he points out the features on the map, he can feel the excitement rising in his voice, because he can tell that this really is it. This is their lucky break, the place where they can make a home. He turns to meet her eyes, and she's grinning back at him.

"It's perfect, Bellamy."

"Home sweet home." He has barely finished the cliché before he feels Clarke's arms wrap around him, and he hugs her back, and they are there for quite some time, holding one another, looking forward to their future.

…...

Clarke is beyond delighted that they have found a home, where they can live together and grow beans and hunt rabbits and live a beautifully mundane existence for the next five years – provided she can solve the problem of making Bellamy radiation-proof. She suggests that, as the afternoon is drawing on, they call it a day on their work and save planning the logistics of the journey for tomorrow. Bellamy is only too happy to agree, but has a suggestion she's not entirely sure she approves of.

"I think you should join me for a bit of a gym session now, in that case." He doesn't appear to be joking. She's no delicate flower and she knows that she is not unfit, but there's something very intimidating about the idea of attempting to do physical exercise in front of Bellamy. Because it's very much his territory, being good at things that require physical strength, and she doesn't want to embarrass herself.

"Only if we can play chess afterwards." She figures that she may as well get something out of this, however much she agrees that she also needs to be fit and well to survive above the ground.

"That was not the deal, Princess. The deal was a chess match for a movie night, not a chess match for a workout."

"How about a chess match for a movie night and a gym session."

"Deal."

"I'll see you in ten minutes? In the room you seemed to be using yesterday?"

"Sure. Do you have something to wear?"

"I'm sure I can find something. There seems to be everything in this ridiculous place."

…...

Clarke has demonstrably found something to wear, but Bellamy isn't exactly sure it's the most sensible outfit she could have chosen. The leggings are practical, yes, but they are also clingy, as leggings usually are, and he can see her legs in more detail than he thinks is good for his sanity. And that drapey oversized gym top, of the kind he's seen in media from the first part of the twenty-first century, is just silly – how are you supposed to achieve anything with that thing flapping about every time you so much as move? It's almost like outfits of this genre were designed to make women look sexually appealing while exercising, he reflects, rather than to actually empower them to, you know, exercise. Reminding himself to breathe, he gives her a little wave, then realises he looks rather stupid doing so and walks towards her instead. The way she's biting her bottom lip ever so slightly, and shifting her weight from foot to foot, makes her look almost nervous – but this is Clarke Griffin, and surely she couldn't be nervous about something as trivial as a gym session.

"Excited?" He asks.

"That's one way of putting it. Do you think I'm going to survive this? That routine you were doing yesterday seemed nasty."

"I was going to suggest that we didn't start with that. Not because you're not capable, and all that, but because you've been ill and I want you to be sensible. Also because, frankly, I don't think I want to do that two days running."

"Thank goodness for that. So what do you suggest?"

"Just a bit of a circuits session? We each pick our favourite moves and string them together?"

"Because who doesn't have favourite exercises, of course."

"OK." He compromises as his smile threatens to split his face. "I pick my favourite moves and you just have a miserable time?"

"That sounds more like it."

That said, she proceeds to get stuck into the challenge with more enthusiasm than he was expecting. She's pretty brisk on the shuttle runs, and perseveres with her crunches with such steely determination that by the end of the hour she's managed more sets than he has. He wins the longest-held-plank contest, which is no surprise as he used to win it on the Ark as well, but she gets so genuinely competitive about it that for a moment he thinks she might push him over out of sheer spite. She has, without doubt, more steel and determination than should rightly fit in her small frame and, frankly, he's a little in awe of her.

…...

Clarke enjoyed their workout quite a lot, actually – Bellamy is a rather cool gym buddy, always challenging her to be her best self, and always generous with his praise when she succeeds. Obviously, the fact that he's easy on the eye make the experience more pleasant too. But she decides against admitting that she had a pretty great time, because she wants to extort as many chess matches from him as possible. With that goal in mind, she reminds him of their deal as he stands over the stove, watching supper simmer away.

"So... ready to lose at chess after dinner?" He turns at the sound of her voice, and her heart hiccups a little at the way his hair, still damp from his shower, falls in soft curls over his forehead, at the way his cheeks crinkle as he smiles at her, at the way his eyes are dancing with something that looks suspiciously like love.

"How do you know I'm going to lose?"

"Please, everyone loses at chess when they're playing me." She can't help the way that just a smidge of arrogance enters her voice, because it is, in fact, true.

"Thankfully, it seems you lose at cooking, so I guess we're even." She walks towards him and has to admit that whatever he's making smells pretty good for ration pack stodge.

"What are you making?" Her curiosity gets the better of her.

"Soy protein and spiced rice." She feels her jaw hit the floor at that.

"No way."

"Yes way. Observe: this is what it's supposed to look like. And smell like, and taste like." He takes a spoon and feeds her a mouthful of the rice, and she melts slightly at the careless intimacy of the act.

"That's it. You're cooking for the next five years."

"Yes. Yes I definitely am." She can't resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him like a toddler at that, and he seems only too happy to rise to it and return the gesture. She figures she can at least provide bowls and cutlery, even if she can't actually provide food, and makes herself useful serving up and carrying it to the table where they dig in. It's by far the tastiest meal she's had since they got stuck here, and she's not particularly successful in resisting the temptation to gobble it down with more speed than dignity.

"It's funny how much quicker it is to eat this when it's edible." He teases, indicating their mostly empty plates.

"Thank you for cooking. Pretty convenient that I got stuck in a bunker with someone so useful."

"Yeah, I don't think that was exactly what I was thinking when I stayed. I think there were other things on my mind than whether you'd get to eat decent food if I wasn't here."

"What... what was on your mind?" She lowers her eyes to her plate as she asks the question that's been swimming round in her head for days. He is silent for a moment, and she wonders if maybe he doesn't want to answer the question, or perhaps doesn't know how to answer the question, before he continues.

"Lots of things, I suppose. How I didn't want you to go through this alone, and I wasn't sure I could go through that alone. I mean, I know I wouldn't be alone, because the rest of them would be there, but without you. And I didn't want to live at your expense, because of your sacrifice, again. But most of all, after everything we've been through together – after all of those times when I've tried to say 'If I don't see you again' and you wouldn't let me finish the sentence," he smiles at that, a slightly watering, quivering smile, like a young chick that's not quite sure it's going to survive the world, and she reaches out to wrap her hands around his, just as he did for her only that morning, and squeezes hard, "after all that, I needed, at the very least, even if we both died here, to be able to say a proper goodbye."

"Thank you for staying, Bellamy." She says at length, voice shaking. "I would do the same for you, too, you know that, right? Never doubt it." Her right thumb rubs slow circles on the back of his hand, their supper slowly cooling, forgotten.

"How could I doubt it when you did do the same? You're the one who stayed here and climbed that tower and missed the rocket." She wells up at that, and isn't entirely capable of producing words, because she's so moved to be supported in the midst of this disaster by someone so utterly understanding. She doesn't know how me manages it, to be so strong in so many ways, and so big-hearted in so many situations, and, frankly, she's a little in awe of him.

a/n Thanks for reading! I like reviews, especially if they involve song/movie suggestions...