"There you two are!"

It had been seven days post-kiss, as Clarke was now counting it. Post 'kisses' would have been far more accurate, as they'd swapped more than just one, hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

And then they'd broken apart, finished washing, clicked their handcuffs back together, and went back to camp.

Paul was waiting, as they reminded themselves, to go and clean off.

And since then, Clarke couldn't find the courage to ask. Then again, neither had Bellamy.

Luckily, teens were far too into themselves to notice anything amiss between their two fearless leaders.

"Yes, we're here. Doing medicine things. As expected," Bellamy said. Clarke kicked his shin. He was terrible at hiding things, great stars!

"This has gone on far too long!"

"How'd you know?" Clarke groaned. She and Bellamy exchanged looks. Of course, Raven would pick up on their sexual tension.

"Oh! Has it reversed?"

It took both a second to realize Raven had no idea about their kiss or maybe Clarke's now constant invading thoughts about Bellamy shirtless and dripping wet. She was talking about the curse.

"No, it hasn't. Not to our knowledge, at least."

It had been weeks without one of them messing up and accidentally going past the barrier, so to their knowledge, it could be gone. But they weren't lucky, so neither was counting on it. They'd had long discussions on their lack of luck as they were falling asleep.

"Exactly. Which is so...weird! Your bloodwork revealed nothing," Raven huffed, "And I want to do more tests."

Both of them groaned.

"Oh, suck it up! You're telling me you like being handcuffed together?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Of course not," Bellamy was quick to say and Clarke tried not to feel hurt, "Would I like to not nearly pass out whenever Clarke has a case, and would Clarke like to do something more than hear Murphy fight with me about camp shit? No shit!"

"And I'm sure Bellamy would love to get back to his regular sexual explorations," Clarke added dryly. Bellamy looked at her weirdly, but he didn't get a chance to say anything more.

"Exactly, so follow me."

Bellamy and Clarke shrugged. What was the worst that could happen?

Monty was waiting in the woods with Raven. He was wearing a sling on his half-missing arm but looked more healthy than a few days ago. Clarke took a few seconds to check in with him before she noticed Raven impatiently tapping her foot.

"Unlock yourselves," She said, motioning to an area of meticulously cleared-away brush.

Clarke slowly unlocked her and Bellamy.

"Both of you stand right here. Monty and I are going to mark in six-inch intervals going back. When I say go, you both move back to the first line. And the second. And then the third. I want to figure out exactly what your limit is."

"And what will that tell you?" Bellamy looked unsure.

"Heck if I know yet! Maybe it will be the breakthrough!" Raven threw up her hands, "Now, do you have something better to do?"

If Clarke could have her way, she'd be kissing Bellamy again. But she didn't. So no, she supposed this was as good as anything.

They stood toe-to-toe, facing each other. It was reminiscent of a week ago at the lake. She could see how Bellamy's ears turned red. He must be thinking similarly.

Clarke focused hard on a tree behind him as Monty and Raven marked little lines in the dirt.

"Okay, we're going to go until you start to feel weird. Then we're going to keep going to see how far you can go without-,"

"Passing out? Because I'm pretty sure that's what happens."

"If so, for the cause, you should," Raven narrowed her eyes, "C'mon, we might need you two to be separated and need to know exactly how much length we got."

There hadn't been anything yet that required them separated, but Clarke knew Raven was right.

"On my marks, go!"

They both took six steps back.

And they kept doing that until Clarke felt the familiar tingling of her nose. She clamped the top of it to keep it from bleeding and raised a hand. Across the way, Bellamy was raising his hand too, sniffling back blood.

"Just nosebleeds?" Raven questioned. Clarke wasn't feeling a headache yet, so she shrugged. Bellamy nodded in agreement, cursing as a few droplets of blood landed on his shirt.

"Five feet." Monty measured.

"Okay. Step back again."

There was a pause, as neither wanted to purposely put themselves through this, but alas...it was just one more time. Just for Raven, to hopefully make her happy for a few days.

They got six and a half feet before the headaches stabbed their brains. Clarke nearly crumpled under the pain and Bellamy hardly looked better.

At seven feet, her tongue started to tingle.

At seven and a half feet, she almost couldn't breathe.

At eight feet, she started to feel woozy. Raven pushed her upright and forward before she fainted.

"I think we can assume eight feet is as far as they can go," Monty said, his good arm helping Bellamy stand.

"Oh, gosh darn you," Bellamy groaned, coming to stand next to Clarke again. Instinctively, Clarke reached out and touched his arm. Immediately, she felt better. Raven watched with interest.

"That...helps? Contact?"

"It is a proximity curse. This is as close as we could be," Bellamy replied snarkily, half without thinking.

"Hmm." Raven looked deeply piqued.

"Well, here," Monty had something for them. It was re-used monitor bracelets, without the poky bits, with a length of rope tied to each end, "So you don't have to be like three inches from each other. You seem to be totally fine until you hit that five-foot mark. So this rope is four and a half feet." He said.

"Oh, that's going to be really helpful," Clarke sighed, glad to have more use of her hand back. She would say that an unexpected perk of this is that she was now ambidextrous, something equally helpful for doctors and artists.

"Genius!" Bellamy agreed. She saw he stashed the handcuffs, maybe just for safety, in his back pocket. She still had the key around her neck. Or maybe neither wanted to let these items go just yet.

"I have to do some more theorizing," Raven just muttered when she was sure the pair were safely locked by a rope, "I will, I swear, figure this out! There is not a riddle in the world that Raven Reyes cannot crack!"

"We have every faith in you, Rae," Bellamy said, grinning, sharing a look with Clarke. And maybe she was imagining it, but it seemed to be saying, 'if this never goes away…what's the harm?'

Or perhaps that was just her own foolish hope.

XXX

There isn't a lot of paper around, but then again, the paper that is…no one is really interested in it anyway. Most everything was switched over to hold pads about 50 years ago, so the paper that is left feels ancient.

Clarke's mother did her a solid and slipped one thing on the Dropship, just for Clarke, just to remind her that she was loved; a pen and paper journal.

When someone found it three days ago and wanted to set it on fire (a kid that got busted for arson) Clarke nearly bit his head off to save it, dragging Bellamy out of the med tent to scold him. Bellamy said he didn't know Clarke had such strength since she managed to up-end him and forcibly pull him into the center of camp with such haste. Clarke is mildly embarrassed about the event, but less so knowing that she has saved her drawing sketchbook.

She doesn't leaf through it until later that night, outside their tent. There are drawings from when she was young, all the way up until a little before she was put into the Skybox.

She starts drawing again, soothed by the way the pencil rubs across the slightly textured paper.

She draws the Dropbox and the stars above them, just as brilliant as when she was on the Ark.

"Woah, you have some mad skills," Bellamy says, peeking over her shoulder, handing her a cup of water from their jug inside.

Clarke snaps it closed out of instinct. She never liked people looking at her drawings. It's as intimate to her as a diary. However, when Bellamy motions for it, her fingers hand it over with such little resistance, she wonders if this is a dream.

Bellamy takes care looking at each drawing, even the terrible ones from when she was nine and was first given this journal. His face is unreadable, but the care he spends as he tilts his head, tracing the lines with his eyes, makes something in her heart thud fast.

"I would maul my best friend to get to this too," He says after a long while, reaching the end of her drawings, "These are really good."

"Best friend?" She asks, laughing uneasily, "And maul?"

"What's the equivalent of rug-burn without any rugs?" Bellay says, lifting his shirt to show a rash, "Because I have that." He seems to have glossed over her prior question, and Clarke is too timid at this moment to ask it again, "Do you ever draw…live models?"

"Only once," She finds a picture of Wells, and her heart just aches to look at it, but not as bad as when she sobbed over him, "But we were pretty young and he didn't sit still very well."

"Well, why don't you draw me like one of your french girls?" Bellamy asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Clarke's cheeks flush because she is sure that Bellamy has figured out that sometimes, she stares just a bit longer at some of the girls in the camp. Not that being bi is anything bad, but if Bellamy has picked up on that, fuck, has he picked up on how Clarke also stares at him?

But then, a thought hits her. None of the girls are 'French'. Nationalities sort of were done away with when all the Space-Stations joined together. Secondly, none would be 'Clarke's French Girls'. And third, she just got this, she hasn't the chance to draw anyone from here.

"I don't understand," Clarke finally says, feeling dumb.

"Titanic?" Bellamy furrows his brow, "Oh, you're joking. You were from the Alpha station and you never saw Titanic!"

Clarke knows what he's talking about, insomuch that there are only so many pre-Ark movies aboard the ship. And she knows this to be the title of one.

"It's a long one!" Clarke's cheeks flush, "I preferred renting out The Parent Trap." She laughs, "Actually, I think Wells and I planned on renting Titanic and finally just watching it, but then of course I got thrown in the Skybox, and well…" She sucked in through her teeth, "So no."

"You're missing out! Look, I know it's a romance, but it's a good one. Whenever it was playing in the Teen Rec Room, I always went."

"Right, you may have to explain the reference," Clarke said, blinking. Now Bellamy's cheeks are red.

"I, uh, well, I was hoping you'd just get it," He admits, laughing nervously, and then he coughs, "So, erm, in the movie, Jack, the artist, draws Rose." He gulps a bit, his bravado from the question vanishing, but she can see him trying to regain it as he adds, "Nude."

Clarke snaps the sketchbook back, "You're serious?"

"It would be a great life-study practice!" Bellamy says.

"Only that?" Clarke asks with a raised eyebrow. Bellamy licks his lips, shrugging.

"You need another reason?"

Although there are many other reasons she is inclined to say yes, she isn't sure she can voice those. So his reason given, clearly also a cover, is enough to get them both here; Bellamy laying on Clarke's mattress with nothing on at all, just the edge of one of the blankets covering his thighs. Clarke is a bit disappointed it's not fully nude, but the hint, the tiny piece of cloth covering him, leaves little for imagination and it is enough.

Clarke is glad that the process of drawing Bellamy allows for her face to be nearly nuzzling the paper to hide her scarlet cheeks, and that she can sit cross-legged to try to alleviate the burning she's feeling for him.

All she knows is that when she falls asleep tonight, his chest and naked skin will be all she dreams about.

XXX

Clarke keeps her sketchbook under her pillow, but specifically, she keeps the drawing of Bellamy torn out in her pocket at all times. Jasper's already wandered into the tent and perused, claiming he was looking for left socks. It would have raised a lot of questions to have a drawing of naked Bellamy amongst her collection, questions she's sure neither of them wants to answer right now.

Would it be worse for someone to find Clarke carrying this drawing on her person? Absolutely, but Clarke will cross that bridge if it ever comes to it.

A few days later, after a few days of Clarke and Bellamy shooting each other bedroom eyes, but neither ready to act on it, Raven poses a question a breakfast.

"Have you ever thought of fucking each other?" She asks, chewing on a crumbly granola bar.

"What?" Bellamy spits up his water, sending Clarke a wild look, and then Raven, as if to ask, 'am I obvious?'.

"Raven!" Octavia's eyes are horrified, "Children!"

"Well, they'd have to be protected, of course," Raven says, frowning, "It's no time to be getting pregnant. But their implants should still be up to date, aren't they?"

Clarke manages a burning nod, wanting this table to swallow her up.

"No, there are children present," Octavia waves her hand to a group of thirteen-year-olds. They're not exactly children, and Clarke is sure they know all about what Raven is talking about, but Octavia's right. It doesn't mean they should be actively present for such conversations.

"Oh, sorry," Raven's 'scientist face' slips off, and she glances at the newly-minted teenagers, "Forget I said that, alright?"

"Look, why don't you…go grab a brownie piece. Tell Monty I said it was okay," Bellamy sighed and the three thirteen-year-olds can't resist that offer. Once they're gone, Bellamy turns back to Raven.

"I don't know what you think is going on-," He starts, his shoulders squared and his spine straightened.

"I'm thinking you two are still cursed," Raven said, "And you told me that being close to each other, physical touch, alleviates the symptoms. So, have you tried having sex with each other?"

"I'm not sure they want to tell you that, if they have," Jasper furrows his brow, "Neither of them seem like 'kiss and tell' types."

"It's nothing personal," Raven balks, "It's in the name of figuring this out! Logically, sex is as close as these two could get to each other!"

Clarke tries to relax a bit. It's not about their not-so-covert looks at each other. It's not about the budding crush a few others may have picked up on. Raven is 100% clinical right now. Does that make it worse? Maybe.

"I'm taking it from your reactions that's a no," Raven says after a moment, "Well, what do you say?"

Bellamy gives a deep cough, "About us…" He trails off.

"Yeah, because maybe that's the key. Maybe you guys just gotta get it over with and it'll be done." Raven theorizes, "I've had sex with plenty of people just for shit and giggles," She says, "It was necessary, after Finn. Couldn't you guys do the same?"

"Raven!" Octavia throws her hands up.

"What?" Raven turns, slightly irked, "They can't stay like this forever! It's worked out okay now, but what if it doesn't? They should be trying everything to break the curse!"

Bellamy and Clarke share a look at each other. Maybe Raven is right, Clarke things. Maybe they've become too complacent with this situation?

"If we ever do," Bellamy says with a sense of finality, "You'll be the first to know the results."

Raven grins, "That's all I ask, Bell."

XXX

It's about a week before the dam breaks.

Now that Raven has put the thought in their head, it's impossible to get out. And Clarke finds herself pulling out the picture of Bellamy in his birthday suit during private moments as much as she can.

And god, she wants him.

But she is also curious. Raven's theory has lit a question in her mind too. Has this been the answer the whole time? Is this simply what needs to be done? Was it always that easy?

Finally, it seems she comes to the conclusion that it must be done.

Apparently, fate decrees that Bellamy decides the same night.

"For science," He mumbles as he presses his lips against hers in their tent, one hand reaching over to bat the light off, not wanting to give the kids in the camp a shadow-puppet show.

"It's as close as we could be," Clarke agrees, "And Raven will just keep hounding us if we don't."

Clarke yanks his shirt off as Bellamy presses his palms against her chest, rising them up until he is shedding her shirt and untangling her bra.

Neither talks much, as Clarke isn't sure what to say. Does he like dirty talk? Does he think it's cheesy? Should she be talking?

There is some moaning, though it's muffled by Bellamy's large hands as he goes down on her first, her hands tangled in his hair. One of his palms is cradling her and the other is snaked up to keep her quiet, and he lets her bite down on his skin to keep in the sounds.

By the time he's done, he's pushed his pants down and Clarke rolls them onto the nice mattress.

When he pushes inside of her, Clarke does feel as close as they possibly could be.

All the whispers about Bellamy being a good lover are true. She's not sure where he learned his, as he sure as hell wasn't having sex on the Ark with often, but well, she's glad that someone has done Clarke in the present a solid by teaching him right. The reason Clarke often prefers girls is that times like this are just more enjoyable when you're on the same page about what pleasure is, but Bellamy might give her opinions a run for their money.

He is wholly present, and Clarke is so glad that Raven butted in and suggested this.

They probably would have gotten there, eventually, but speeding up the process is something Clarke is not upset about in the slightest.

As they fall asleep, it's on Clarke's mattress.

Maybe they also need to be close the moments after, she tells herself, an excuse to snuggle up on his chest and drift off to sleep.

They'll test the theory in the morning.

XXX

It didn't work.

"Maybe we need to do it a few more times," Bellamy suggested, and the disappointment is now replaced with a sexy sort of game, "To be scientific."

"Yes, of course," Clarke agrees with a grin, "No test is properly concluded after just one round."

So they keep testing…for the science, why, what other reason would you assume?

And every morning they're still cursed is just another day to try again the next night.

XXX

Raven comes to collect a month later, and they have to admit they've been having semi-regular sex for the last few weeks with no results.

"Just great!" Raven throws her hands up, "Back to square one." She sighs, "I really thought that was it. I appreciate the commitment to it, but you don't have to continue. I think you've proved that's not it."

As she walks away, Bellamy licks his lips, looking at Clarke.

"Should we…" He starts to ask, but it's clear what he wants the answer to be. Clarke snorts.

"Hell no. Now I've gotten used to regular orgasms and I don't think you want me finding someone else while you sit outside the tent, right?" Clarke says. Bellamy makes a face immediately.

"No, no you're right," He shrugs, "Hey, orgasms reduce stress. I think all of our delinquents would want their leaders as stress-free as possible, right?"

"Yes!" Clarke isn't sure if she's pleased that another excuse has been made, or if she was just starting to get a bit courageous, but right now she'll take it, "For the good of the camp, of course."

She's getting the sense thought that even Bellamy knows that's not why they continue.

XXX

Clarke heard the entire argument.

There wasn't anything special about Clarke hearing the argument, to be fair, the whole camp heard the argument.

Clarke just heard it very loudly, due to the fact she was tied to Bellamy's side.

"You want a list? You want a fucking list, Bellamy?" Octavia was screaming, flailing her arms and motioning to the camp.

"Jesus Chris, O, there's a list?" Bellamy shot back.

"Oh, grow up, Bellamy," Octavia put her hands on her hips, "It's not like you're a squeaky clean virgin-,"

"Octavia," Bellamy said, face growing hot at her language, which was ridiculous because she was old enough to know what that word meant.

"So you're majorly uncool to demand to know the names of all the people I've slept with! Besides, what are you going to do, punch them? Your hand would get tired for all the effort," She said, smirking. If Clarke was a part of this fight (she wasn't, she was just unfortunately close to it, and would slink away if she could) she would tell Octavia that she should stop firing up her brother.

"You…you…" Bellamy stuttered his words, "Fine, fine. I don't need a list of all the people you've slept with."

"Good."

"I clearly just need a list of the people in camp you haven't, because that apparently will be shorter."

If Clarke was part of this fight, she would also tell Bellamy that this was way over the line.

Octavia's face dropped.

"You just can't help be an asshole, can you?" Octavia said, her eyes glimmering with tears.

"I'm just trying to help you," Bellamy said, scoffing, affronted at the thought that his sister could not see how him being a total jerkwad was actually him being kind, "Who knows if these guys are sleeping with others…and what diseases they may be carrying…or you could get pregnant!"

"I'm a big girl, Bell. I can handle my own sexual health." Octavia said.

"Like hell! I'm tied to Clarke 24/7, so I know that you haven't come asking about anything to protect yourself." Bellamy said, waving his arm tied to Clarke. Shit, did this mean she was in the fight now? Urg; she wasn't sure she wanted to be.

"There are other medics not tied to my nosy older brother," Octavia said dryly and turned to leave. Clarke, who was now waffling if she was included in this, thought about telling Bellamy to leave it, and let her walk away.

But she didn't…and Bellamy had to have the last word.

"O, I'm just looking out for you. Like I've always done! If you can't see that-,"

Octavia spun, her eyes wild with fire, "Looking out for me? Like the way you got me arrested? Or how about the way you got mom killed?" Octavia gave a dry, furious laugh, "Yeah, you're really in my corner, Bell."

As she turned and Bellamy moved forward again, Clarke did take action and dragged him back, shaking her head.

She decided it wasn't her place to get more involved than this, but Bellamy would thank her later before he ruined every goodwill he had with Octavia.

"I have rounds," Clarke said, looking for any excuse to pull them away from the middle of the camp where everyone was watching, "And you can't stand here all day giving all the boys in the camp murder eyes."

Bellamy turned, frowning, "Do you think it's as many as she claims?" He asked, and Clarke was surprised he cared for her opinion on this. Clarke also snorted.

"Blakes are notoriously dramatic," She said pointedly, "But even if it is true, who cares? But no…I would take a guess somewhere between three and seven."

Bellamy's eyes widened, "Three and seven! That's a lot, Clarke! That's-," He sputtered, kicking the dirt.

"None of your business," Clarke added pointedly, and tugged hard, "No come. Work."

Bellamy was silent the remainder of her workday. If anything, the little fight had acted as a PSA that hey, there was sexual health to think about, and suddenly the entirety of the camp was worried they had an STD or were pregnant. Bellamy looked pale at how many young teens were swarming in, but as Clarke kept reminding the delinquents, the most important thing was to be responsible.

As they packed up for the night, Bellamy finally sighed.

"Clarke, I think she really hates me."

Clarke paused her re-stocking of bandages, turning. She was surprised he was talking to her about this. Then again, who else was he going to? The answer was before he'd just hole away his feelings, but in a moment of vulnerability, here he was, offering his thoughts to her.

"Do you think she'll come around?" He added. Clarke could have fallen over. Bellamy, asking her advice? God, seeing Octavia half-naked with Jasper today really messed him up, apparently.

"She's your sister," Clarke said quietly.

"And she thinks I killed our mom," Bellamy sat in the exam chair as Clarke continued to sort.

"She's just upset."

"She's also right," Bellamy whispered hoarsely, "I did kill her. If it wasn't for me, we'd still be alive."

"And you'd be dead on the Ark, or nearly. How would you have gotten Octavia down, huh?" Clarke pointed out, "I don't know about dead parents and shit. I think I don't really have a say about that, but I think if you both thought through it, this was the best way."

Bellamy gave a soft twitch of his lips, almost a smile, "I want to hear your say about that."

Clarke frowned, "Why? Why does my opinion matter so much?"

"Because you…you…" Bellamy whispered, then shook his head, "You're just wise." He ended after an awkward stumbling of his words.

Clarke laughed, "Oh, don't give me an ego, Blake."

"You just always know the right things to say," Bellamy said, still far away in his answers, "And you keep me grounded. I can get emotional sometimes."

Clarke sat down next to him, reaching for his hand. It was warm in hers.

"I like that about you."

He looked up, his face bright, "Really?"

"Yeah," Clarke whispered, sure she was saying far too much, but perhaps not enough at all, "Really."

XXX

There was a question that Raven once posed. A morbid, horrible question, one that had Bellamy and Clarke send her a rude glare when she asked it. But honestly, neither of them gave it much real thought.

What happens if one of you dies?

You don't really have to wonder until it's right in your face.

Stupid, honestly. With their track record, that should have been the first question that they were both asking. But things had been so peaceful. The Ark was working on coming down. The Grounders had reached peace with the Dropship. Things were starting to feel normal. It was foolish of them to assume this wouldn't come to pass.

Clarke had trained as a medic. She was smart; she prided herself on this. She could ruthlessly assess a situation and, even as people were sobbing in the background, do her work. It's what made her so good at her job.

But when Bellamy went down, all of a sudden, Clarke was one of those wailing loved ones on the sidelines, fear gripping her heart and making it pound fast until that was the only thing she heard in the back of her head.

"Paul!" Clarke screamed, "Paul!"

If not Paul, someone would hear her, and someone would grab him.

Bellamy and Clarke were outside the fence lines, looking for some more herbs for medicinal purposes. And it had seemed like nothing had happened; they were just laughing with each other, Bellamy finding ways to keep himself occupied as Clarke shaved off leaves and put them into tins.

And then, Bellamy was silent.

When Clarke turned, he'd been falling, eyes wide.

"Oh god, oh god," Clarke muttered over and over, racing her hands all over him. Was it an arrow? Was it a gun? Was it the Grounders?

"Holy shit!" Paul skid out of the camp, Murphy on his heels, "What happened?"

"I…don't…know!" Clarke blubbered, "He's hardly breathing."

Bellamy was choking on air, gasping for breath, his face steadily turning blue and his fingers spasming and twitching.

"Grab him," Paul commanded, "Clarke, what's going on?"

Clarke looked up, eyes wide, and she could feel the blood draining out of her face, "I just…I don't…"

A look, something she didn't understand, fell over Paul's face, like someone dragging a heavy curtain down. He looked at Bellamy, and then Clarke, and licked his lips. "Right," He said, though Clarke was not sure at all what her answer had illuminated. He grabbed Bellamy's legs. Murphy was at Bellamy's shoulders, "On three. To the medic floor."

Clarke trailed uselessly behind.

What if Bellamy died?

Would she die too? Or would she be free? Perhaps this curse truly was a curse, as in it was just waiting for one to kill the other. Maybe the point wasn't to understand each other, but it was done to cement one true leader for the camp. Maybe Raven, in all of her theories, had gotten it wrong, and Clarke had too.

What if she would have to find out today?

She tried to put on her Doctor face as she entered behind Paul, hating how the rope between her and Bellamy had gone slack. She went to wash her hands with the bar of soap, but Paul skid in between her.

"Nuh-uh, go sit down."

"But…I'm the doctor," Clarke said, frowning. Her words were faint though, and she kept looking at Bellamy, terrified he'd stop breathing.

"You're too close to him," Paul said, straightening his back. He'd gone from such a mousy, quiet fellow to someone that was now commanding the room, Clarke realized. So much so that Murphy and Mbege both were looking at him for instructions, not Clarke. Murphy was digging through a bin, but Clarke only could see Bellamy behind him, dying.

In a startling moment of realization, Clarke came to the conclusion that she wasn't ready to have Bellamy die. He couldn't. And not just because she was afraid of what would happen if they were separated by some uncontrollable force like death, but for other reasons that she couldn't yet articulate, but it felt like she was being dunked in an icy bath as she came to this verdict.

"You know I can't control that!" Clarke said, waving the arm with the rope, "And since when is it a bad thing for me to be close to my work? Usually, god forbid, my hand is in someone's chest!"

"No, that's not-," Paul squinted, and gave a laugh, "Clarke, you're too close emotionally. You're being a Jessica!"

Clarke stumbled back as though she'd been slapped. Being a 'Jessica' was an inside joke between her and Paul that meant a significant other that got in the way far too much. Jessica Beck was a girl who, when her boyfriend of only three days had gotten his hand attacked by a porcupine, had sobbed so loudly in the medic wing that someone thought her boyfriend had died. She got in everyone's way and knocked over four different trays of instruments and ended up needing stitches on herself due to the clumsy way she was, though Clarke was still convinced she'd gotten an injury to stay close to her boyfriend who broke up with her two days later anyway.

"That's not what…" Clarke began to slowly argue, rolling the insult around in her head. Behind her, Murphy was injecting Bellamy with something, "John Murphy I'll string you up by your toes! What are you doing!" She lunged but Paul pushed her off balance quickly. He caught her before she fell completely, and took Bellamy off the table too.

"You're not?" Paul asked, quirking an eyebrow, "Clarke," He gave a pitying shake of his head, "You are one of the smartest, most logical people I know. And this…this was easy. Child's play." He motioned, "Look, he's getting better."

Clarke forced herself to take two deep breaths and examine Bellamy. She thought about how quickly he went down. She thought of how his hands got puffy and he couldn't breathe. She thought of how whatever Murphy had given him had kicked him back alive. And she felt very, very foolish.

"Anaphylactic shock," Clarke whispered, "We were collecting juniper. Common to affect those who had no previous allergy," She looked at Murphy guiltily, "Andrenaline."

"As much as I want to stab Bellamy," Murphy said with a snort, "I'll get my jollies out by lourding the fact that I saved his life over him."

Paul coughed, "Let's give them some room. He'll be okay now. Stay away from juniper."

"Yeah," Bellamy said, wheezing, though it didn't seem to be from danger anymore, "Planning on it."

Paul all but shoved the pair of boys out, leaving them utterly alone, with each other, and the situation that had happened.

"Never thought I'd see the day Clarke Griffin was hysterical over me," Bellamy said, trying to stand. Clarke shoved his shoulder back down. She reached to grab a water bottle, just within their reach, and offered it to him.

"Well, what if you had died?" Clarke whispered.

Bellamy raised his head to take a long drink of water, "Is that really it?" He asked, too tired to be suave or clever right now, "Is the stupid curse all you care about?"

Clarke grasped a bucket of water and the soap to wash his fingers from where he'd grabbed the berries, making jokes about Monty distilling it into gin, whereas Clarke was lecturing him on the medicinal remedies of juniper.

"Are you really going to make me say it out loud?" She asked, unable to meet his expression.

"I nearly died, so yeah, I'd sort of like to hear it."

Clarke dropped the rag in the bucket, rubbing her eyes, "Life would really, really suck if you died. And I don't really know what I'd do without you, Bell."

Bellamy reached up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. He kissed her gently, his rough hands tracing the tears on her cheeks.

"Clarke, I love you too."

XXX

If you ask anyone in the camp how the end of the curse played out - how it broke or who figured out why it was happening - most would shrug. They're teenagers…Clarke and Bellamy being handcuffed was hot news but had long lost interest. The fact that they were a couple was whispered about for only slightly longer. But then Stirling decided it was a good idea to publicly propose to Fox after a month of dating, and well, their interests shifted with different gossip. Honestly, some might have gone, 'oh, yeah, the curse' had you reminded them of it.

If you asked Raven, she would tell you she single-handily figured it out and fixed it. She might give slightly different answers whenever you ask, but her story is mostly airtight. And totally false.

If you want the real story, ask Bellamy or Clarke. And they'll tell the truth. The whole, boring, totally average truth.

One day, the curse simply…vanished.

It was hard to say if it was tied to anything specific. It wasn't when they shared 'I Love You' for the first time. It wasn't when they announced that they were moving in together not because of the curse but because they wanted to. It wasn't when Octavia caught them 100% naked and that basically fixed the fight between the Blake Siblings, for they were now 'even'.

Honestly, Clarke and Bellamy just stopped caring about the damn curse. They both agreed they didn't want to be that far away from each other anyway, so who really cared? Certainly not them. Only Raven, forever frustrated by a mystery she was never meant to untangle, had any issues with just dropping the inquiry altogether.

One day it was there and the next day it simply was not.

But, if you ask anyone in camp, Clarke and Bellamy rarely spend any time apart, so really, who could ever be sure anyway.