Chapter 17:

Bellamy Blake was not, is not, and will never be a patient man.

The tell-tale signs of twilight casted an uneasy shadow over the uplifted dirt that Bellamy continuously kicked while he waited for her to exit the triage. His shoulders were tense, solid in a way that would cause back pain in the near future but he couldn't help himself—his body was a tight coil, so wound up after countless speeches and emergency relocations and simply worrying about Clarke Griffin and her insufferable ability to keep working even if she needed a break.

Bellamy Blake is not a patient man, but he'd wait all night for Clarke to stand by his side.

-x-

Clarke was greeted by accumulated dampness when she slid the back of her hand across her forehead. It was dark outside—she only knew this because Jasper brought their available flashlights into the drop ship so she could complete the last of her patients. Octavia was making sure Raven was hydrated after severe smoke inhalation. If they weren't living in the wilderness, she would suggest an oxygen mask for a lot of the people she'd seen but they didn't have that luxury. The abuse on their bodies would be unreal by the time they were forty—if we make it to forty.

Her forehead crinkled as a rough gasp jumped from her pursed lips—the adrenaline wore off hours ago, replaced by the throbbing pain of her untreated cut. She had all intentions of working through it, though because she had to make sure the drop ship was sanitary after the mess they'd created in their frantic state. Clarke reached above her head to tighten the knot on the hammock, locking her jaw when her leg started to burn. The dried blood was uncomfortable and she wanted nothing more than to soak in water. She heard Octavia's soft voice from the corner of the room, "Clarke, c'mon, take it easy." Raven was propped up on her elbows, watching Clarke with a level of concern Clarke couldn't comprehend. Did she look that ragged? "Let me clean up after I take care of your leg."

Clarke wanted to argue with the younger Blake but she knew she'd be doing until she was blue in the face. There were a thousand things for Clarke to do outside of the drop ship before she could even think about worrying about herself. She needed to review sleeping arrangements since they lost a few precious tents and they definitely needed to regroup for the hunting trip or they weren't going to have any protein in their diets. Plus, with the amount of injuries she treated, she knew she would have to make periodic rounds in the middle of the night to keep bandages clean and check possible head wounds.

"Don't make me get Bellamy." Octavia threatened her with raised eyebrows. Her lip twitched as if she was fighting back a playful smile. Unfortunately, Clarke didn't think the threat of a possibly manic Bellamy was something to joke about. She knew him well enough that he was probably going out of his mind not being able to set foot into the drop ship under Octavia's strict orders. "You know he won't be as nice as me."

Raven's voice was weak but it was also light due to the amount of herbs they'd pumped into her system. It was safe to say that she was floating on a fair high. Once or twice when she was going out, she'd whispered something about it 'not being the boys fault', Clarke assumed she was referring to the only two boys that had a habit of blowing things up. Clarke wanted to lecture them or yell but Raven was adamant once she was conscious. It wasn't their fault. The gun powder was activated in some freak accident. Of course, Clarke knew she would have to protect the two from Bellamy once he found out the details of events. "Or Jasper…he seems exceptionally clingy lately."

Clarke decided not to launch into the reason Jasper was "exceptionally clingy" because it would open the doors to personal conversations she wasn't ready to have after the stressful day she'd experienced. She would have to tell Raven she was pregnant, and that wasn't that big of a deal—Jasper, Monty, Octavia, Wells and Murphy knew already. She just didn't want to hear Raven get offended over being one of the last people in their group to know.

"Would you, uh, mind getting Bellamy?" Clarke asked in a soft breath—mostly because she wanted to see his face, wanted to touch his unharmed skin and see that he wasn't damaged like the other bodies she'd examined during the day. "I'm sure he's losing his mind outside…" Clarke turned to Raven, "Uh, and when he's done I'll let Finn come in so he can stay with you."

Octavia released a little laugh as she headed towards the exit, leaving Raven and Clarke alone. "Thanks, Clarke." She heard her whisper in the corner, "For stitching me up and everything." There were many things Clarke could say to Raven but she thought a simple head nod covered them all. Raven laid back on the bed, a hiss breaking through her mouth. She focused on Raven's labored breaths, watched her facial features and tried to make a plan in her mind to lessen her pain.

"How uncomfor—" Clarke was interrupted by Bellamy wrapping his long fingers around her wrist, spinning her around until she was flush against his body. He brought his hand to her cheek, dipping his head to make contact with her ready mouth. I need you.

His sister made a gagging noise, "Oh, get a damn room." A hot blush spread across her cheeks as she backed away from Bellamy. Her tongue darted from her mouth, tasting him on her lips. "That is, after I fix your leg."

Bellamy made a sound in the back of his throat before he whispered, "I can't believe you waited this long to stitch your leg, Princess. It could get infected and I don't know how well your immune system is right now…"

She snorted before her face broke out into an obvious pained expression as she lifted herself onto the table. Clarke laid on her back, unbuttoning her pants so she could move them down her legs. "Bellamy, you're like a parent trying to lecture me for misbehaving. Stop." He made a different strangled noise as he watched her struggle with her jeans.

"Let me help you." Bellamy moved forward, fingers dipping below the waist of her jeans in order to pull them over her knees. The dried blood and sweat didn't help his efforts but eventually, he had her pant-less before him. Some of Clarke's best sexual fantasies went this way, and from the blush on her face it seemed pretty obvious where her head was. In her defense, being pregnant did heighten her libido. "Sorry." He said in a husky voice as he pointed out the hole in her jeans.

"Not like I'm going to fit in them much longer." She said, forgetting that Raven was in the room with them—forgetting that Octavia was even in the area.

"What?" Raven asked groggily as she looked between the two. "What's Clarke talking about?" The blush increased on her cheeks but Bellamy only smiled in the direction of Raven. He'd come a long way from his initial reaction.

"Uh…" Her eyes were wide as she tried to come up with a way to explain what was going on to Raven. "Um, okay…so..."

"Clarke's pregnant." Octavia intervened with another laugh, "Bellamy's the baby daddy. Which means I'm an aunt, now Reyes. Ha, I win." Raven narrowed her eyes momentarily at Octavia. Clarke could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she thought over what Octavia had said.

After a few moments, she asked, "You knocked up Clarke?"

"Seriously?" Clarke groaned. Octavia pushed her brother out of the way so she could take a good look at Clarke's leg. In the process, Clarke continued to speak. "Why does everyone have to ask that? I mean, I guess if you want to be technical we weren't exactly looking to get pregnant….but still, knocked up is such a demeaning term in comparison to me having a baby with Bellamy. I don't want people telling our child that the reason he or she exists is because daddy knocked up mommy by accident."

Raven sighed, "You're going to be one of those parents."

"What?"

She snorted, "The one that tries to shelter their child away from anything negative. Why does it matter if Bellamy knocked you up or not? You two are together. You clearly like each other. You were probably going to get together anyway…"

"Yeah." Clarke rolled her eyes.

Bellamy frowned, "You don't think we would have ended up together?"

Octavia jabbed a needle through her skin causing her voice to hitch. "It's not that…It's nothing, really." Murphy's words were suddenly on replay in her head again. "I just think we're very lucky with the way things have turned out…that's all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, his voice harder than before.

"Guys, come on…I'm trying to stitch Clarke up, here. Can't you save the fight for when you get home? I'm sure you're overreacting anyway." Clarke turned her head away from Bellamy, eyes gluing to the wall so he wouldn't see the emotions running through her veins. She wanted to cry—not because Murphy made her doubt everything, but because the day had been absolutely horrible. She didn't want to fight with Bellamy and she wished she'd never opened her mouth. How was she always saying the wrong thing, lately?

Clarke counted out the stitches—thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five—but somehow, she always ended up hearing Murphy's words in her head. She won the luck of the draw. Then, she would hear Wells' words in her head, telling her that Bellamy cared about her beyond the fact that he'd gotten her pregnant and was now stuck with her for the rest of his life.

"Done." Octavia's voice reflected the tension building in the room. "Take your own advice and go easy. I know you inhaled a lot of smoke today and I know you're tired. You need to rest and you need to stay off your feet." Octavia handed her back her jeans. "As your healer, I recommend bedrest before you start throwing up and looking like a ghost again. Not that you weren't looking that way this morning before the whole boom thing."

"You said you were fine this morning." Bellamy sent her a glare, "Before I left, you said you were feeling fine. I wouldn't hav—"

"Exactly, Bellamy. You're our best shot and you wouldn't have gone if you thought for a second I wasn't feeling well. I managed. I'm fine. Now, I really should start my rounds. People need clean bandages on their burns now and I don't need them getting infected." Clarke nearly jumped off the table, hurting her leg in the process. She bit down the groan as she put on her jeans.

As soon as she had the button slipping through the hole, she was being lifted in the air and flung over his shoulder. She tried to punch him in the back but he refused to release her. He carried her all the way back to his tent, only letting go long enough to throw her on the mattress—gently despite his obvious anger. He looked down at her, her hair fanning around her head in a messy manner. "We need to talk, Clarke."

"Do we?"

"You lied to me this morning. Don't you think I should know how you're doing?" He seemed more hurt than angry, now. "It's my baby. You're the mother of my child. I should know how you're feeling, when you're feeling it. If there's something wrong, I should know about it."

Her teeth dug into her lip, "I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to apologize! I want you to tell me things. I want to know what you're thinking about the baby…about me."

Clarke closed her eyes, "I'm thinking that if I was someone else—like Harper or Monroe…you would be doing the same thing. You would be taking care of them the way you take care of me. You would be in a relationship with them the way you're in a relationship with me because you're that guy."

"Clarke…"

"You know it's true…and dammit, I care about you Bellamy so yeah—maybe I feel lucky that I happened to be the one you got pregnant instead of the girls that floated in and out of your tent…no matter how long this lasts."

"Wait, are you saying we have an expiration date or something?"

"I don't know."

"How do you not know?"

"Because you don't love me!"

Two updates, one day. (I'm trying to make up. Please accept my apology for temporarily abandoning this story).

Tell me what you think. How do you think Bellamy should respond? Where should they go from here? Any plot ideas?

Don't worry—I'm about to speed up this whole thing.

-Brooke.