Her headaches are less frequently now. Two weeks of being relegated to injured reserve has given her time to recuperate. She is finally allowed to see patients again, giving her something to do besides organize and re-organize their medical supplies. While the break from her duties was a nice change of pace at first, it got old quickly.
She's walking through camp, feeling lighter than she has in a while, when she sees him walk out of the smokehouse. He's been gone seven days, out with one of the scavenging teams, not that she's been counting, and she's relieved to see him back safely. His gait is slow, weary. She knows he needs rest, something more to eat than the berries and small game they found in the woods.
She's too busy cataloging his dark, puffy eyes to realize they are walking towards each other. Before she knows it, they are standing in front of one another, the air thick with tension.
"Hey," he manages. His eyes do a onceover of her and she knows he's checking to make sure she's healthy, whole.
"Hey," she chokes back. She sees his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows hard.
"You okay?" he asks. She hears the pain in his voice. She practically feels it.
"I'm okay," she replies. Bellamy nods his head once.
"Good," he says. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looks anxious. "I should go. Sleep."
"You should," Clarke agrees. He looks at her for a long moment. She gazes right back. She can see so many things in his eyes, blank as they are. She is sure similar things are being reflected back to him through her own. She finally breaks eye contact. "Bye, Bellamy," she says. He doesn't respond in kind.
Deep down, she knows he can't.
He can't tell her goodbye.
Once again, he's not in camp when it happens.
This time, it's Jasper that seeks him out, three miles from camp where he's hunting. Again. He has realized he doesn't have panic attacks if he can get away from camp. He stays gone as much as possible.
"Bellamy!" Jasper is gasping for air. It's the first sign something is wrong. Jasper is fit. He can run for miles with ease – they all can after their time on earth. Jasper can't breathe because he's panicking.
"What?" Bellamy demands. "What happened?" An image of Clarke immediately pops into his head. Jasper bends over, trying to catch his breath.
"Octavia. She's… Something's wrong."
Bellamy feels his heart stop.
"What's wrong?" he demands, already moving in the direction of camp. "What happened to her?" Despite being winded, Jasper is keeping up with his leader's quick pace.
"She hasn't been feeling good," he starts.
"I know that," Bellamy snaps. His pace quickens. Octavia has felt ill for a few days now, complaining about stomach pains and nausea. She swears it's just something she ate, something that didn't settle well on her stomach, and he believes her. Or at least he had. They have all eaten things on earth that didn't go down well. "What happened, Jasper?"
"Her stomach pains got worse," he answers. "And then, she doubled over in severe pain. She was already in the medical bay. Clarke was examining her. I don't know anything else. I knew you would want to know, so I came to get you." Bellay felt a fleeting wave of gratitude for Jasper's residual crush on his little sister.
"You did good," Bellamy tells Jasper.
And then he's running. Octavia is all he has left in the world. If anything happens to her… He doesn't realize not only Jasper, but Miller and Murphy, are with him as he swoops through the gates. A path clears before him as he makes his way to the medical bay. He bursts in, and is greeted by a distraught Lincoln pacing the floor outside of the room he knows must hold Octavia. With no decorum, he pushes his way into the room. He see Abby working furiously on his little sister before Clarke is pushing him out of the room. Right now, in this moment, his feelings for her don't matter.
"Get out of the way, Clarke," he growls.
"You can't go in there, Bellamy." Her words are strong, clear. He doesn't hear them. He tries to duck around her. She's fast, and moves to block him. "Bellamy." He looks at her then. She looks worried, frightened. And determined.
"I have to see her." Clarke shakes her head.
"Not right now," she tells him. Lincoln has come to stand behind Bellamy, desperate for any word at all. "My mom is…" she hesitates, "working on her." Bellamy's brow furrows. He knows those words.
He knows Clarke.
It's bad.
"Tell me," he demands.
"Bellamy…"
"Dammit, Clarke!" he roars. She flinches at his raised voice, but stands her ground. "Either tell me what's going on or get the hell out my way!"
"She's had a stomachache for several days," Clarke begins. She glances at the small crowd gathered in the entrance of the medical bay. Bellamy, Lincoln, they aren't the only ones worried about Octavia.
"I know that," Bellamy snaps.
"She's had a stomachache," Clarke says again. "It kept getting worse, despite the treatments we tried. She came to me today in a lot of pain. She had a fever, chills. While I was examining her, she doubled over in pain. She eventually lost consciousness."
"What's wrong with her?" Bellamy presses. He feels fear growing in his chest.
"My mom thinks she has an appendicitis," Clarke tells him. "She preparing to operate."
Bellamy blanches. Behind him, Lincoln lets out a strangled sort of cry. The others murmur, whisper amongst themselves. Clarke and Bellamy – and Lincoln – ignore them.
"Operate?" he asks, as though he didn't hear Clarke. She nods.
"Her appendix has to come out," she says. "Otherwise, if it were to burst, the infection would fill her bloodstream." If it hasn't burst already, Clarke adds to herself. Something Clarke said moments earlier clicks in Bellamy's mind. He looks sharply at her.
"What do you mean, your mom thinks Octavia has an appendicitis?" he asks. Clarke sighs.
"We don't have proper diagnostic tools, Bellamy," she answers carefully. She's trying to be strong, detached. It's never been this hard to do before. She loves Octavia like a little sister. And Bellamy... "An appendicitis is Mom's best guess. The symptoms are there. They make sense. It's a risk, but without taking it, Octavia will die."
Bellamy feels the earth shift under his feet as the room spins. He fights it off, determined to stay in the present. His little sister needs him.
"We don't have proper diagnostic tools," he repeats. "And we certainly don't have proper equipment for operating. How in the hell does Chancellor Griffin think she's going to do this?" He already knows the answer though. He's sick on his stomach just thinking about it. They are going to cut into his little sister without anesthesia.
"Octavia is unconscious," Clarke answers. "Mom is sterilizing everything as best she can. It's a relatively simple surgery, all things considered."
"Simple when there was anesthesia and ventilators," Bellamy snaps. Clarke doesn't bother responding. He's right. The risks are infinitely higher without anesthesia or equipment to monitor Octavia's vitals.
"Your mom knows what she's doing?" Lincoln asks. Clarke moves her gaze to him and nods.
"She knows what she's doing," she confirms. Lincoln nods. He knows Abby Griffin is a talented healer. He is the product of her lifesaving abilities. He trusts Octavia in her hands.
"I'm going to stay with her," Bellamy informs Clarke. Again, he goes to step around her. Again, Clarke blocks him.
"No, Bell," she says. He starts to argue, but she cuts him off. "No. You're going to sit out here and wait. We can't operate with you in there. You don't need to see this." She doesn't want Bellamy in the room for a number of reasons. She doesn't want him to see them cut into his little sister above all else. She also doesn't want him to distract her from the task at hand.
"You're going to help your mom?" he asks. She nods.
"I'm going to assist," she confirms. Without hesitation, she leans closer to Bellamy. "I promised you I would look after Octavia," she reminds him. "I don't intend to break that promise. I love her, too."
His throat is tight with emotion. He remembers the day he asked Clarke to promise she would look after Octavia if anything happened to him. It was a few days after they were reunited at Camp Jaha. Sitting by a low campfire, the only two seemingly still awake in the camp aside from the guards on duty, he asked her to watch over his Octavia. She agreed. Even if she hated him now, she still loved his little sister. That means everything.
"You'll keep me updated?" he asks. He seems much younger to Clarke in that moment. He's closer to his own age right then as he stands before her, afraid for his little sister and unable to do anything for her. Despite the circumstances, it's nice to be reminded that they are both so young, not at all the age they usually feel.
"I'll keep you both updated," Clarke amends, tilting her head towards Lincoln who has taken a seat on a makeshift bench. Bellamy sighs and gives her a single nod of his head. It's the best he can do. With a heavy heart, Clarke returns to her mother's side.
"We have to work quickly," Abby tells her. She's already got a scalpel in her hand. "We have to reduce the loss of blood as best we can."
Clarke nods. She reaches for the moonshine at her mother's elbow. Without much thought, she takes a drag from the bottle, douses her hands in the potent liquid, and takes a deep breath. Abby turns away to give Jackson last minute instructions. Clarke leans down, her lips close to Octavia's ears. "I'm going to do my part," she whispers. "You damn well better do yours. Bellamy can't lose you."
He has walked miles around the medical bay, waiting for word on Octavia. Despite her promises, Clarke hasn't updated him once. Jackson stuck his head out briefly, an hour ago, to say they were still operating. That's all he offered. No more, no less.
Lincoln hasn't left his bench. He's gripping the seat with both hands, literally holding himself in place. Monty, Jasper, Miller, Harper, and a few others have gathered just outside the bay, giving Bellamy and Lincoln space while also showing their support. Even Raven and Murphy are holding visual, Wick too. Kane has checked in as well. Deep down, past his worry and anxiety, Bellamy is grateful. His little sister is loved.
"Bellamy? Lincoln?"
Bellamy spins on his heels at the sound of Clarke's voice. Lincoln rises from his bench. They both approach Clarke, looking expectant. Clarke herself looks exhausted, worn down to her very bones. Bellamy tries to ignore the blood stains on her t-shirt.
"How is she?" Lincoln and Bellamy voice the same question at almost the same time. Clarke lets out a long sigh.
"She's stable," she answers. "Her appendix was definitely the culprit. It was inflamed and dangerously close to rupturing. Mom was able to remove it and close her back up."
"Is she going to be okay?" Lincoln asks. Bellamy looks at Clarke expectantly.
"She's still unconscious," Clarke tells them. "She lost a lot of blood. We've done everything we can. It's up to her to wake up now."
Bellamy felt both relief and apprehension wash over him at the exact same time. She had survived surgery, but there was still so much that could go wrong. He tries not to think about infections or the fact that Octavia may never wake up. She hasto wake up.
"Can we see her?" he asks. It's not lost on Lincoln that Bellay says "we" instead of "I." Clarke nods.
"You can sit with her," she answers. "I think it would do her good, to have you both there." Without another word, they follow her into Octavia's room. Jackson gives them a small, hesitant smile before he leaves the room. Abby is nowhere to be found. Clarke stands off to the side as Bellamy and Lincoln take up chairs on either side of Octavia.
"Hey, O," Bellamy whispers, taking her hand. "I'm here, okay?" Clarke feels her chest tighten. This is the side of Bellamy she loves the most. The soft, vulnerable side he doesn't let people see.
"I'm here too," Lincoln adds gruffly. He picks up Octavia's other hand. "You rest. Get your strength back." Clarke quietly exits the room to clean up, content to leave Octavia with the two people who love her most.
"Bellamy and Lincoln are with her?" Abby asks as she dries her hand in a small wash room. The water barely trickles from the spigot, but it's better than nothing. Wick and Raven have rigged it somehow, although whether it works depends on having water in a barrel located behind the medical bay.
"Yeah," Clarke confirms. "They won't leave her side. I'm sure of it."
"How is Bellamy?" Abby continues.
"Shook up," Clarke answers. She's suspicious. She knows how her mother feels about Bellamy. He's a fine leader, but not such a fine man, at least in Abby Griffin's opinion. Yet here she is, showing concern. "Octavia is all he has, you know?" Very slowly, Abby nods.
"I guess so," she agrees. She moves so Clarke can get to the spigot. "We'll have to take shifts watching over Octavia. If something happens, I want someone to be there to administer care right away. You, Jackson, and I can trade off." Clarke understands what her mother is actually saying. The camp can't lose another. They can't lose Octavia, their very own ray of sunshine.
"I'll take the first shift," Clarke says. "You and Jackson need some rest. You have both put in longer shifts than me today."
"Clarke, honey, you're still recovering yourself…" Clarke shakes her head.
"I'm fine," she says. "I haven't had a headache in a couple of days. Let me take the first shift. Please." Abby studies Clarke for a long moment. Then, she nods. She knows it's not just Octavia Clarke wants to watch over.
"Come get me in a few hours, okay? I don't want you staying up all night." Clarke nods in agreement, even though she knows she won't.
Abby gives Clarke a few instructions before leaving. Clarke hears her stop in and check on Octavia once more, then leave the medical bay. Judging by the murmur of voices, Abby gives those gathered outside an update on Octavia. Clarke finishes cleaning up before she too exits the medical bay, intending to run to her quarters – the small, newly constructed cabin she shares with her mother – to change her shirt. She too is greeted by those gathered outside.
"Your mom said Octavia is doing okay?" Monty asks. The entire group – at least 10 of the remaining 100 – look at her expectantly. They don't quite trust Abby, not in the way they trust Clarke.
"She's stable," Clarke answers. "It's up to her now." They all nod in agreement.
"Can we see her?" Jasper asks. "Obviously not all of us at once, but like, a couple of us at a time?" He's so hopeful that Clarke hates to deny him.
"Not tonight," she says with a shake of her head. "She needs to rest. Maybe tomorrow afternoon she'll be up for visitors."
She's saying that to placate the group. She doubts Octavia will be up for visitors for at least the next several days. The pain the surgical wound alone will cause her will be enough to keep Octavia occupied. After answering a few more of their questions, Clarke hurries to change into a clean shirt. She's back in the medical bay in under 10 minutes, slipping back inside Octavia's room. Lincoln and Bellamy are holding court over her, neither speaking, both watching her breathe.
"Her hands are cold," Lincoln says when he sees Clarke.
"Blood loss," Clarke answers. "I'll get her another blanket. We need to keep her warm."
"She can have mine from my tent," Bellamy answers. "I won't need it." He's staying by her side until she is awake.
"We have some extra blankets," Clarke tells him. "But, if she needs it, I'll let you know." She's placating Bellamy now. He nods gruffly. She moves so she's on Bellamy's side of Octavia and begins a quick exam. Bellamy feels his heart rate pick up and his nerves calm at her proximity.
"Any change?" he manages.
"Her pulse seems stronger," Clark answers. "That's a good sign." It was barely stronger, but it was stronger nonetheless. She checks the surgical site, is pleased to see it doesn't appear to be bleeding.
"She's doing okay, then?" Bellamy continues.
"As well as can be expected for someone who just underwent surgery without anesthesia."
"She didn't feel it?" Bellamy presses.
"I don't think so," Clarke responds patiently. "We gave her something to sedate her before we operated. It kept us from having to resort to other measures to keep her still." A chill travels down Clarke's spine as she considers having to hold Octavia down as they cut into her. She knows from the way Bellamy tenses beside her that he's thinking the same thing. "I'm going to get that extra blanket. I'll be right back."
She leaves the room and finds a spare blanket almost right away. She's on her way back to Octavia's room when she hears Lincoln and Bellamy's low voices.
"You still love Clarke," Lincoln says to him. "Very much."
"I do," Bellamy replies. His words sound like they're being formed over sandpaper. Clarke feels her breath as it leaves her.
"You should tell her," Lincoln says.
"She doesn't want to hear it." The way Bellamy says it chips away at Clarke's heart.
"Clarke loves you too," Lincoln tells him. "But, she does not trust you."
"What makes you an expert?" Bellamy challenges. He's not one to discuss feelings. He's especially not one to discuss them with Lincoln.
"I see things," Lincoln responds. "I look. I listen." Bellamy doesn't reply, so Lincoln continues. "You aren't doing so well. Octavia is worried about you."
"I'm fine," Bellamy replies automatically.
"You're not."
Bellamy doesn't disagree. Lincoln doesn't continue. They return to their silent vigil over the one thing they have in common – Octavia. Clarke decides to wait a few minutes before she goes back into the room, not wanting them to know she has overheard. She also wants to compose herself. Bellamy had never said those words to her – 'I love you.' She thought he loved her. His actions said he did. But then, his actions said he didn't. She loved him, she had for a while, even before they were together. But, as Lincoln had already pointed out, she doesn't trust him. With her life, absolutely. But not with her heart.
"Clarke?" She turns at the sound of Lincoln's voice, surprised to see him outside of Octavia's room.
"Is Octavia…?" He shakes his head.
"No change. But, I was thinking, there is an herb that will help replenish the blood she's lost. It grows along the river bank a few miles from here. If you think giving it to her is a good idea, I will go get some. I don't want to leave her, but Bellamy is with her. And, if this could help…." He trails off. Clarke considers for a moment. Lincoln is a valuable resource when it comes to plants and their uses. He would never jeopardize Octavia. She nods.
"If you think it will help," she agrees. "Take someone with you though. Monty and Jasper, maybe." Lincoln nods his agreement and is gone before Clarke can say anything else. She knows he will be back soon. She blows out a tired breath and heads back to Octavia's room. She starts to move the canvas back, but stops, still hidden by the fabric. She takes a good, hard look at Bellamy.
She's never seen him like this.
He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He feels each and every death of their fellow camp members deeply. He blames himself each time, no matter the circumstances. Clarke knows that in his darkest moments, he feels their loses in his very soul. He's brave, fearless even when he is afraid. He is strong, determined. He is meant to lead.
Right now though, he is broken. He has let the walls around him crumble, giving up on the pretense of pretending to be fine. Bone weariness seeps from him. Heartache. Disappointment. Worry.
Fear.
Bellamy Blake isn't broken, she realizes.
He is absolutely shattered.
She clears her throat as she enters the room, watches as Bellamy tries and fails to cover up just how tired, fearful, and wounded he is. Without a word, she spreads the extra blanket over Octavia, checks her vitals once again.
"Lincoln already leave?" Bellamy asks, breaking the silence. Clarke nods.
"I expect he'll be back fairly soon. He took Jasper and Monty with him."
Bellamy shifts around in his seat, watching Clarke, just as much as he's watching over Octavia. He would give anything in that moment to pull her into his arms and hold her. He needs her.
"You should try to get some sleep," she says. "I know you aren't going to leave Octavia, but at least let me make you a cot or get you a blanket." Bellamy shakes his head.
"I'm fine."
"Bellamy."
"I'm fine, Clarke."
His voice leaves no room for argument. Silence falls between them, not necessarily comfortable, but not uncomfortable either. A form plans in Clarke's mind. Bellamy won't like it, but she has to do something for him. Wordlessly, she leaves the room. She's back a quarter hour later, a steaming cup in her hands.
"If you won't sleep, at least drink this," she tells him. He looks at her with a raised eyebrow.
"What is it?" She hears the skepticism in his voice.
"Just some guarana tea," she answers. It's not, but she's brought Bellamy guarana tea in the guard tower many times when he needed an extra boost of energy. He doesn't question her, just nods and starts to drink the tea.
"Thanks," he says after a few sips. Clarke nods.
"She's going to be okay," she says softly, needing to offer him any kind of assurance she can. Bellamy just looks at her, his eyes full of sadness.
"Things don't tend to work out in my favor these days, Princess."
Hearing her nickname for the first time in weeks is like a knife to the heart. She hated that stupid nickname when Finn gave it to her, came to tolerate as time went on. Somewhere along the way, whenever Bellamy called her by the name, it became a sort of affection, a pet name. She misses him tremendously in that moment.
Bellamy stifles a yawn as he downs the last of his tea. He's smart – too smart – and his eyes turn sharply to Clarke.
"This isn't guarana," he states. Clarke bites her lip in guilt.
"You need to rest," she tells him. "Octavia isn't going to wake up overnight. She's going to need you when she does. You won't do her any good if you're exhausted."
"I need to be awake," Bellamy argued. "I can't be here for her if I'm sleeping." Even as he argues, his words slur around the edges. Clarke ignores him. He can protest all he wants, but the herbal tea is working. She slips out of the room in search of another blanket. When she returns, Bellamy is asleep, his head resting on his arms on Octavia's bed. Clarke drapes the blanket around him. She can't resist running a soothing hand through Bellamy's thick curls.
God, she misses him.
Its early evening of the next day when Octavia stirs.
Clarke, Abby, Bellamy, and Lincoln are all in the room when her eyelids flutter open.
"O?" Bellamy asks, leaning forward. He's not thrilled with Clarke for her sleeping tea concoction, but he can admit he needed the sleep it brought him.
"Bell?" Octavia responds in a raspy, voice. She winces. "Ow!"
"It's okay," Lincoln soothes. She turns her head towards him.
"Lincoln?"
"I'm here," he confirms.
That's the only time Abby gives the two men before she's swooping in, checking Octavia over, getting Clarke to bring her water and medicine for the pain. It seems like a lifetime passes before Abby announces that Octavia is going to make a full recovery, although it may take some time to heal and the pain might be great, at least at first. Octavia is settling against her pillow, the pain already easing from whatever Clarke gave her, when Bellamy stands abruptly and excuses himself. Octavia catches Clarke's eye, but she can tell Clarke is already planning to go after him. She gives Lincoln the cup of water she's been dispersing to Octavia and leaves in search of Bellamy.
Several minutes pass before she finds him. He's in the dirt behind the medical bay again, on his knees, struggling to breathe.
"Bellamy!" She falls to the ground in front of him, reaches out to cup his face in her hands and bring him upright. He struggles against her, muttering "no, no," over and over and shaking his head furiously. "Bellamy, stop. Stop fighting me."
"Go… Away…" he chokes out. Clarke shakes her head.
"You're having a panic attack," she tells him. "You're going to be fine. Take a deep breath, okay? Come on, Bell, breathe." He's still struggling for air. "Bellamy, breathe with me," Clarke said urgently. "Come on. In through the nose, out through the mouth, like this." She pulls in a breath and pushes it out. Bellamy doesn't. "Dammit, Bellamy! Breathe!" She shakes him a little and his eyes meet hers.
Things start to right in that moment. He struggles to take a breath.
"That's it," Clarke coaches. "You can do this. Come on, Bell." Again, she pulls in a breath. This time, Bellamy does the same thing. Together, they breathe out.
They continue the rhythm for several minutes, Clarke's eyes never leaving Bellamy's, her hands never leaving his face. He reaches up at some point and grasps her wrists with his hands.
When his breathing is under control, he breaks.
He falls forward resting his forehead on Clarke's shoulder as the sobs come, racking through his body. Clarke doesn't hesitate to pull him to her, comfort him. Somehow, she ends up in his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he lets out every emotion he has felt since they landed on earth.
A long time passes, the two sitting in the dirt, wrapped around each other, Clarke issuing soothing words to Bellamy as he begins to settle down. It's still too soon when he pulls away. He rubs his arm over his face and doesn't make eye contact with Clarke. She waits.
"I'm sorry," he finally chokes out. "I… A lot…" He can't find words to explain what he's feeling.
"How long?" she asks. He purses his lips.
"A while," he answers, this conversation oddly familiar to him.
"How long, Bellamy?" she pushes. He sighs.
"Since we…" He trails off, but Clarke nods. She had a feeling the two things went hand in hand. "I didn't want you to find out."
"Why not?"
Bellamy just shrugs. Clarke sighs.
"Bellamy, this is serious. You're having panic attacks. Severe ones. What if something like this happened in the middle of the woods, when no one is around to help you?"
"I don't have them in the woods," he responds. "Just here, at camp. Being in the woods helps." The real reason for Bellamy's frequent hunting trips and his tendency to be among the first to volunteer for scavenging and scouting trips makes sense now. It also triggers a thought.
"You can't sleep," she guesses. "That's why you take the night shifts." Bellamy just nods. Clarke sighs again. There's so much to discuss, so much to say. Neither of them have the energy for it tonight. Bellamy is covered in dirt and grime. She has to set aside hurt feelings and distrust. "Come on, Bell." She stands and offers him her hand. He looks up at her.
"Where are we going?"
"Back to your tent," she informs him. "Or the medical bay. You pick where you want to sleep tonight." He takes her hand, grateful for the contact, and lets her think she's being effective in pulling him to his feet.
"I'm fine." Clarke scoffs.
"Stop saying that, Bellamy," she chides. "You're not fine. You haven't been fine for a long time. Now, medical bay or your tent?" Bellamy sighs. He's not going to shake Clarke tonight. He doesn't want to, even if he knows she views him as a patient and nothing more.
"My tent," he finally answers. "Lincoln will stay with Octavia tonight." Clarke nods and leads the way, not paying attention to the looks they are attracting. Seeing them together, and not on official camp business, is a subject of interest.
"Change into something clean," Clarke directs. "And get into bed. I'll be right back." She's gone before Bellamy can reply. He does as she says. She's back just as he's sitting down on the bed, wearing a clean pair of boxers and, because he feels like he needs to be modest around Clarke now, a t-shirt.
"More sleeping potion?" he asks, noticing the steaming cup in Clarke's hand.
"You need to rest," Clarke answers. She sits it on his makeshift nightstand. "Drink it." She picks up his water basin and leaves the tent again. She returns quickly, puts the basin down, wets a cloth and comes to him. Without a word, she begins to wipe the dirt away from his face. He feels immensely guilty in that moment. He broke her heart and here she is, taking care of him.
"You don't have to do this," he says softly.
"I'm doing it."
"You don't have to."
"Bell."
That ends their argument. Bellamy sits quietly as Clarke continues to wipe away a few days' worth of grit and grime. He continues to sip his tea, already feeling sleepy. Clarke finishes her task and he misses her touch instantly.
"Thank you," he says softly. Her back is to him, but she turns to him now.
"You need to take care of yourself," she replies. "You can't keep this up." He smiles at her sadly, but doesn't reply. She knows there are a hundred things he isn't saying. She finishes rinsing the rag and dries her hands before she turns back to him. He has finished his tea and is sitting expectantly, as though waiting for her next instructions. "Lay down," she instructs.
"You'll keep an eye on Octavia?" he asks as he does what she asks without hesitation.
"I will," she promises. She fusses with his blankets. He doesn't want her to leave, and is completely unaware that she doesn't want to leave either.
"Tell her I'll see her in the morning, first thing."
"I will," she promises again. She can't stop herself from reaching up and pushing Bellamy's hair back from his forehead. "Get some rest, Bell."
A few moments go by.
"I didn't want you to know. About the panic attacks."
"I know."
"It's… There's a lot…" His eyes are growing heavy, his words slurring.
"I know," Clarke says again. Because she does. She has vivid memories of Bellamy begging her to talk to him, trying repeatedly to apologize, to ask for her forgiveness. She also knows Bellamy carries a lot of baggage around with him. The sobs earlier, completely out of character for him, were a long time coming. "Sleep, Bellamy."
He doesn't have the energy to keep going, to say all the things on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he lets his eyelids fall shut.
The last thing he remembers before he's asleep is the feel of Clarke's hand running through his hair.
When she's sure he's asleep, Clarke leans down and gently kisses his forehead. "Lincoln's right," she whispers. "I still love you."
I liked writing this chapter. Clarke knows about the panic attacks. On to the next chapter - 2 more to go!