A/N: Prompt by heartlesslywhumping: Talk to me, please, just-just tell me you're alive.
"Talk to me. Please... just—just tell me you're alive."
Bellamy didn't respond. Tears streaked through the dirt on Clarke's cheeks, the blood. She shook the body of one of her best friends, the boy she had wanted to be with till the end. And it looked like the end had come, just not for the both of them.
Jackson pulled Clarke back, even as she fought and cried out Bellamy's name. Her mom started CPR.
CPR. Clarke was an idiot!
I should've thought of... I should've...
I should be the one saving him.
But she wasn't. This was out of her control, and the tight arms around her were proof of that. Her mom tilted Bellamy's head back, pinched his nose, and breathed two breaths into him.
"Bellamy!" Clarke cried. "Bellamy, you come back to me! Come back, or you—or you can go float yourself!"
The chest compressions were started again, and Clarke collapsed, getting free of Jackson. She dragged herself across the floor. Her eyes focused on Bellamy's chest, waiting for it to rise and fall on its own accord. She held his hand, squeezing hard.
"Bellamy, you told me you were going to be okay," she sobbed at the possibly-dead body in front of her, her tone accusatory. "Just talk to me. Talk!" Clarke hung her head and tears fell on Bellamy. "Bellamy!"
Clarke knew his chances of survival were dimming. Her mom was out of breath and sweating from giving him CPR, and Clarke felt completely useless, hating that she wasn't able to help the boy she loved.
"Say something, Bell," Clarke urged.
Bellamy started breathing. After a few moments he came to, and Clarke couldn't stop smiling, even as tears rolled down her cheeks. Clarke and her mom helped him sit up.
"Oh my god. Bellamy!"
"Hey, Princess."
She wanted to pretend to be mad, to accuse him of nearly dying and then only having that to say, but any word out of him was beautiful.
"How are you feeling?" Clarke asked, as her mom and Jackson went off to a corner in the room to give Clark and Bellamy some privacy. Besides, with the crisis was over, Clarke trusted that she would be able to take care of Bellamy, her vast well of medical knowledge and skills coming back to her from underneath the fear and panic and guilt. "You were... You were gone."
Bellamy just fell into her and moaned out, "Ow."
Clarke held him, running a hand through his oily, sweaty hair.
He was alive.