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Bellamy's skinning rabbits near the campfire when the gate clangs open.
He hardly glances up; he knew Clarke was taking a few others out to wash off in the lake and to collect herbs she needed for remedies. The day had been remotely uneventful so far, and Bellamy's been waiting for her to get back so he could pick a stupid fight with her.
"Bellamy!"
He drops his knife so fast he's already running towards the gate by the time it hits the dust. It's Octavia who's called out to him and he pushes past people to get to her, his heart pounding painfully hard against his ribs, worst case scenarios flashing through his mind even though Clarke had once told him that was bad for him.
Clarke.
She hangs limp between Octavia and Jasper, a spear sagging out of her abdomen, and Bellamy thinks he's going to be sick. Not because he's squeamish about blood, because obviously he's not, but it's Clarke and she's not supposed to be one of the injured.
Octavia's shaking so hard her teeth are chattering, and she looks at her brother with terrified eyes. "Get her to the medical tent. She's out, so I..." she breathes in deeply, her breath rattling in her throat. "I'll have to take care of her."
Bellamy numbly replaces Octavia at Clarke's side, watching as his sister screams for Raven to help her. Jasper kicks him in the calf. "Come on! We have to get her lying down."
Every step makes the spear in Clarke's torso swing one way or another and he finds himself muttering a string of apologies and expletives to her, even when they get her lying down. He wants to tell Octavia how stupid it was to move her with a goddamn spear in her stomach, but that wouldn't help any, and it's not like he would have known any better either. Jasper begins to pace and it makes Bellamy's old anxiety rear its head, stirring around in his stomach.
Clarke is out cold. Her pulse is there, but faint. There's a trickle of blood leaking from her mouth and a lot of blood surrounding the spear, and Bellamy does not want to think about the possibility that it might already be too late.
Finally, finally, Octavia flies in, Raven hot on her heels. She instructs Raven to call the Ark- specifically Abby, if possible- and starts dousing her hands in the moonshine. She's still shaking but she's spent a lot of time in this tent with Clarke, observing and helping and mending. Bellamy is still worried for her.
"Okay," she finally says, twisting her hair up behind her head. "Bellamy, I don't have any painkiller or sedatives. It's likely she'll wake up. If she does, hold her still and make her stay calm."
"How do I just-"
"Bellamy," Octavia soothes, voice surprisingly calm, gazing at him with clear eyes. "You can keep her calm."
Bellamy just nods stiffly, curling his fingers around Clarke's upper arms. The skin there is very soft, like it is on most people, and he tries not to think how pale she is with so little blood.
Octavia takes one of the cheap scissors that was in the medical kit and snips Clarke's shirt away, not touching the spear. Raven can be heard speaking to Abby over the radio, but Octavia keeps going. She dabs the moonshine on and around the wound, and Bellamy winces, glad Clarke isn't awake for that.
"Is the spear still in the wound?" Abby asks, presumably directed at Octavia.
Octavia nods. "Yes, m'am."
"Okay. Good, that was good thinking. Okay, now, do you have tape or gauze of any kind?" Abby's voice sounds like it's drifting off, and with a pang, Bellamy realizes she must have instinctively gone looking for tape or gauze near her. "You're going to need to secure the spear to minimize its movement."
Octavia glances at Jasper and he wordlessly begins digging through bins until finally he emerges with a plastic baggie. "I have bandages made from seaweed," Octavia replies, taking the bag from Jasper. "Will that work?"
"It will have to," Abby replies, and Bellamy does not hold the shakiness in her voice against her. "Once you've stabilized it, use a towel, gauze, or another type of cloth to wrap around the base and apply pressure to the wound." Octavia does so, and Raven nods to Abby, who continues. "If the first piece gets soaked with blood, simply put another one on top of it, and don't remove the original."
Octavia uses four pieces of cloth. Jasper and Raven have both gone disturbingly pale.
"Can you see if any organs are pierced?"
"I don't-" Octavia leans and cranes her head this way and that, squinting. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I've only seen her do this once, and I don't know what the organs look like."
"The best thing to do, then, is remove the spear and sew up anything appearing torn or ripped on the inside. If nothing does, stitch the wound."
Octavia's quiet for a moment. "That's not really the best thing to do, is it?"
Abby sighs. "Not really, no. But it will have to do."
Octavia's hands are shaking too hard, her fingers still bloody and spread over Clarke's pale stomach, so it's Jasper who sterilizes the needle and loops the thread through it. He passes it to her, curling his fingers through her own, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Bellamy hardly feels angry.
Everyone is quiet while Octavia pulls the spear out: she does it painstakingly slowly, and Bellamy is again thankful that Clarke can't feel it, and she sets it aside and does not look at it again. Quickly, she peers inside the wound. "I- I don't think anything inside is torn."
"You'd know if something was," Abby replies, sounding relieved.
Octavia nods, mumbling to herself, and quickly begins to sew Clarke's wound up. The yarn is stark against Clarke's white skin, and Bellamy prays that they're not too late. "She's lost a lot of blood, Dr. Griffin."
If Abby's surprised to hear his voice in the room, she doesn't say anything. "I know. But the spear would have stopped most of it, and applying pressure should have helped. If, after a few days, she hasn't regained consciousness, we might have to find a blood donor."
Bellamy's heart jumps into his throat at that. Blood transfusion was so foreign to them, all of them, and none of them would know how to perform it.
"She loves you, Abby," Raven says suddenly, and Bellamy is surprised to see twin tear tracks on her cheeks. "She'll totally pull through, because she's a kickass, but I feel like she'd tell you now if she could."
Abby laughs. It turns into a soft, crying sound, and she ends the call.
Octavia slumps against the wall, sliding down to the floor and groaning. Jasper shuffles over to her and she curls against his side, blood still stretching up to her wrists. Raven leaves quickly, her head bowed.
Clarke is still on the table, her skin shockingly white against her black bra. There is still blood smeared all across her abdomen and down her chin.
But her chest is still moving up and down.
When Bellamy moves his hands away from her arms, he sees his fingers left imprints.
Finn almost punches him in the face the following morning, except for he's got shit aim and Bellamy knows how to dodge.
"You're not even doing anything!" Finn snaps, getting up in Bellamy's face. His breath smells disgusting. "Clarke's been stabbed and you're not doing anything about it!"
"I was in the medical tent last night, helping with the operation," Bellamy replies smoothly, like he's commenting on the weather (which has been gloomy since Jasper and Octavia dragged Clarke back). "I haven't seen you doing anything."
Finn pulls back his lips like he's snarling, but it really doesn't work on his face. "I mean about the asshole who stabbed her!"
Bellamy frowns, letting his act slip a little. "What are you talking about? Wasn't it just a Grounder trap?"
"No, you idiot! It was Murphy!"
Bellamy feels that like a slap to his face and he spins around, running towards the medical tent. Everything is red around him, a ringing in his ears becoming deafening when he pushes into the tent. Octavia looks like she's going to shush him but thinks better of it when she sees his face.
"Was it Murphy who stabbed Clarke?"
Octavia falters at the tone of his voice, eyes going wide and to the floor. Bellamy grabs her shoulders and shakes her, bringing his face close to hers. "Tell me! Was it Murphy?"
"Yes."
Both of the Blakes snap their gazes to the examination table. Clarke is propping herself up on her elbows, and shit, this is not the time for Bellamy to be admiring the way her chest moves like that. She's gazing at them with lidded eyes, obviously exhausted, like the one syllable cost her all her strength.
Octavia reaches her first, easing her onto her back and cooing that she needs to rest. Clarke's forehead is covered in a light sheen of sweat and Octavia leaves to go dampen a rag to clean her off.
Bellamy hovers by Clarke, looking at the way her hair spills off the edges of the table like sunlight. "Hey, Princess."
"Hi," she says, voice hoarse, and smiles at him. "Could you bring me a blanket, please?"
He finds a stack near the tent's flap, but most of them are scratchy. He digs around until he finds a softer green one and brings it over to her. She tries lifting her arms, but they fall back to the table with a slapping sound. She frowns in bewilderment, eyeing her arms like she's never seen them before, and Bellamy tries not to laugh. "Guess I lost more blood than I thought."
That dries the laugh up in Bellamy's throat. He spreads the blanket over her, jerking his hand away when it brushes against the side of her bra, and tucks it around her arms. "There," he says, somewhat awkwardly; she's looking at him with a soft expression that makes him uncomfortable.
"You learn that from taking care of Octavia?"
"No," he replies, settling into a chair as his sister returns and Clarke's exhaustion wins out, her eyelids drifting shut. "Just now."
After that, Clarke doesn't wake up again for days.
Raven is angry and on edge, kicking logs and backpacks and swearing whenever someone so much as looks at her funny. Bellamy knows she's kind of close with Abby, and he knows she's just avoiding calling her to tell her Clarke hasn't woken up more than once. Finn keeps her at arm's length, and Bellamy aches, not for the first time, to punch him in the face.
Octavia is swamped because she's trying to keep Clarke alive and mend everyone else. She doesn't want to waste medicine and bandages on smaller injuries, but she thinks it would be selfish to save them all for Clarke. Bellamy tells her it's not selfish; they need Clarke to survive, don't they?
"But it's more than that, Bellamy," Octavia scowls, eyebrows pulling together. "God, will you stop pretending she's just a useful tool? She's a person, and there are people who care about her."
She stomps off after that, leaving Bellamy with a twin scowl to match her own. He hadn't meant anything by it. Clarke was useful. He blames it on the fact that most of his life, his only friend was Octavia.
When he gets back to his tent, there's a girl lingering there. She pulls her face into an overly dramatic pout and twines her arms around his neck. "Bellamy, I came to your tent the other night and you weren't here."
"What?" He's distracted; Octavia is motioning for Jasper and Monty to follow her into the medical tent. "Oh, I was with Clarke."
The girl- Caylie, he thinks- snatches her arms back. "The Princess? I thought she was on her deathbed."
A flash of anger sears through Bellamy's body and he glares at her, watching her wither under his gaze. "She's probably saved your life more than once, so watch it. And she's alright- or she will be. Don't be so insensitive."
Caylie's gaping at him like a fish and it takes every ounce of self-restraint Bellamy has to not reach out and snap her jaw closed. "I thought you hated her."
Bellamy turns his gaze back to the medical tent, deciding Caylie's not worth any more of his time. "Well, you thought wrong. If I were you, I wouldn't come by here anymore."
He leaves her sputtering angrily in front of his tent, taking long strides to reach the medical tent. Jasper sees him come in and hurries over. "She's talking to Abby," he says, keeping his voice quiet; Bellamy wonders if Clarke is unconscious or simply sleeping. "She said it was private."
Bellamy nods. Taking a scan of the room, he sees Raven sitting in a chair, her feet tapping anxiously. Monty's bent over some techno-whatever, probably trying to strengthen Octavia's call to Abby. "What do you think they're talking about?"
Jasper takes a deep breath. "Nothing good."
Now Bellamy's anxious. Clarke's eyes are still closed, and when he steps closer, he sees the skin underneath them is dark purple. She still looks beautiful, Bellamy notes with a hint of wonder, but she doesn't look like she'll be going for a hike anytime soon.
"I'm going to kill that bastard," he says quietly, bent close to Clarke's ear. "He's not going to touch you again, and I'm going to kill him."
Her pinkie finger extends, brushing the waistband of his jeans, and he carefully pushes their palms together, lacing their fingers. He thinks she smiles in her sleep.
Bellamy begins staying in the med tent at night. Octavia allows it, but only on the condition that he call for her if anything goes wrong. She's beginning to look like Clarke, and that scares him- worn thin, eyes sunken into her cheeks.
But then he remembers Clarke is probably the strongest of them all, and he doesn't worry.
There's been extra people on night watch since Jasper and Octavia dragged Clarke back, and Bellamy's told them to knock Murphy out if he comes by. He doesn't want them to kill him; he wants to save that pleasure for himself.
He nearly jumps out of his skin when Clarke says his name. She's tangled herself up in the blanket Bellamy gave her, curled up tight in a ball. He squints his eyes, unsure if he heard right, but she says it again. Bellamy, barely above a breath.
He slowly stands, the muscles in his sore body protesting, and makes his way over to the makeshift bed. Her eyes are closed, he realizes, and it takes him a moment to sort out his confusion. She's dreaming about him.
His cheeks warm and he turns away for a moment, unsure if he should listen to anything else she might say. He's always thought dreams were very private things, even if you talk in your sleep. Plus, he's pretty sure Clarke would punch him if she woke up and caught him listening.
Her face is scrunched up, like she's worried, and Bellamy watches anxiously as she sighs. "Bellamy Blake," she mumbles, lips hardly moving. "I need to see Bellamy Blake..."
She trails off and unwinds from her curled-up position, stretching like a cat, and Bellamy's worried for a moment that she's pull her stitches. But then she presses her face into her arm and mumbles nonsense sounds, and he can breathe a sigh of relief.
"Sweet dreams, Princess," he says, smiling at the way her eyes move behind her eyelids. He smoothes her hair off her face and returns to his mattress of blankets on the floor.
Raven wakes him up early the next morning. Clarke is still out, her hand dangling over the edge of her makeshift bed. "Hey," Raven whispers, eyes puffy from sleep. "Abby's asking for you."
"What?" Bellamy's voice is low and rough from sleep and he rubs the heel of his hand over his eyes, squinting. "Why would she want-"
"I don't know, but I wouldn't keep her waiting." Raven cocks an eyebrow. "Hell hath no fury like a Griffin woman scorned."
Bellamy chuckles at that and stands up. Raven goes outside the tent, probably to give him and Abby privacy. The monitor's set up behind some stuff, creating a sort of privacy nook, and Bellamy hesitantly eases himself into the chair. "Hi, Dr. Griffin."
"Hello." Clarke's mom smiles warmly at him, her hair in a long braid over one shoulder. She doesn't look anything like her daughter. "You must be Bellamy."
"Yes," he says. "Octavia's brother."
Abby's smile grows wider at this. "She's done an excellent job taking care of Clarke. And others, I'd expect. You must be proud."
Bellamy lifts a shoulder in a shrug, semi-uncomfortable. He's not used to adults being kind to him. "You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yes," Abby says, and it's like she flips a switch that puts her in doctor mode. She clasps her hands, analyzing him over her fingers. "Bellamy, I'm going to be honest. It's not looking good for Clarke."
Bellamy's stomach drops.
"That's not to say she won't survive," Abby continues. "It's Clarke, after all. But she's been asleep for so long, and Octavia said that when she was last awake, she couldn't utilize her arms correctly." She exhales. "So when- if- she does wake up, she might not be..." Abby grasps for the right word, pursing her lips. "She might not be able to use her entire body. Her mind might also be damaged. There's really no telling, and there's not much I can do from here."
"I understand," Bellamy says.
"But Bellamy," Abby says, and she leans closer to the monitor. "Bellamy, she used to tell me about you. Before she got hurt, I mean. She never wanted to talk about anything to do with the Ark, so she would talk about you. She admires you. She goes back and forth between hating and respecting you. She trusts you, and that really says something, coming from Clarke. She says you make her feel safe without making her feel weak. She told me how you saved her life from that Grounder woman with only a single shot, and the awe in her eyes-" Clarke's mom sighs, her chin in her hands. "She says you're always there when she needs you. And I cannot thank you enough for that."
Bellamy remains still, his heart in his throat. He can't imagine Clarke saying anything like that about him, but somehow he knows it's true. "I don't- I don't know what to say."
Abby smiles softly, sadly, and says, "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that in case she never gets to."
There's a pain in his heart and he's about to ask her to stop acting like Clarke will die, but there's the sound of blankets rustling and his head cranes around. "Dr. Griffin, I'm sorry, I have to go."
He switches off the monitor and nearly trips over himself getting to Clarke. She's sitting up on her elbows again, squinting in confusion at the med tent and the bright morning light. "What's going on?"
Bellamy's behind her, and when she hears him coming she nearly jumps out of her skin. "Bellamy!" She surges forward, wobbling on two feet, holding her arms out for balance. "Oh, God, Bellamy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you okay? How did you get here?"
"I- what?" Not for the first time, he's completely at a loss for words with her. He shakes his head. "I'm fine, Princess. Sit back down before you hurt yourself."
Clarke does, but only when he gently pushes on her shoulder. She gazes up at him with wide eyes. "You were- the Grounders had you," she says, voice hushed. "I was focused on Anya, and they took you. It was my fault because I asked you to come."
For a horrible moment, Bellamy's afraid she'll cry. He sits down on the bed next to her, watching the way her lips tremble. "That never happened. We all came back from the Grounder meeting fine." His eyebrows furrow. "I think you were dreaming, Clarke."
She's quiet for a long time, looking down at her hands. "It didn't feel like I was," she says finally, her face all screwed up, vulnerable in a way Bellamy's never seen her. "I saw them hurt you. I saw them do it, Bellamy."
"Hey." His voice is quiet now too, the same tone he used to use when he had to comfort Octavia. "It was just a bad dream. I'm just fine. Okay?" He waits, keeping his eyes on her until she nods. "How are you feeling?"
She hastily wipes her hand across her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I feel fine. I'm just dizzy. Did something..." she trails off, finally looking at him, and frowns. "Did something happen?"
Bellamy feels his eyes widen, and for a moment he debates getting Octavia to explain, but he doesn't want to freak Clarke out anymore. "Yeah. Murphy attacked you. It seems like you're alright now, though."
Clarke's eyes widen before flashing with anger. "Why didn't you wake me up before? I should have helped go get him! I should-"
"Clarke," Bellamy says, struggling to keep his voice even. "We didn't wake you up because you wouldn't wake up."
She stares at him blankly. "I don't understand."
"You lost a lot of blood," he says, and damn it, now his voice is shaking. "You had a spear lodged between your ribs, Clarke. We didn't know if you were going to wake up. Hell, even your mom didn't know if you'd wake up."
She covers her mouth with her hands but doesn't say anything. Bellamy stays quiet, swings his feet back and forth, letting her process everything. He can't believe she doesn't remember, but then again, Abby had just warned him about this.
"I need..." she trails off, eyes going someplace distant. "I need you."
Bellamy's heart does a little stuttering motion, the same way it did the first time she said it. She had meant it then and she means it now, eyes unfocused and hands twisting nervously, unaware of the effect she has. He reaches out hesitantly, pulling her hand into his own. "I'm right here."
"No, I know, but-" she stops and huffs out in frustration, trying to grasp for the right words. "While I was asleep, I thought I was awake, and I thought the Grounders had you. I watched them hurt you. And they said if you fought back, they'd kill me." Her voice is shaking again. "So you just took it. You just let them do it."
"Clarke," Bellamy says, voice a little distressed, because he needs her to understand. He gently curls his hand along her jaw, waiting until her wide eyes meet his. "I would follow you to hell and back."
She doesn't say anything for a moment, just flicks her eyes back and forth between his, breathing shakily. "If you died I don't know what I'd do," she says, voice hardly more than a whisper. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare die and leave me here alone."
It's like he can hardly breathe; he's paralyzed beneath her gaze but not in fear. Somehow her toeing the line between life and death had expanded the space in his chest with her name on it, and he wants to tell her this, but he doesn't know how. They were never like this before. They were just becoming friends before, understanding each other's body language and respecting each other and secretly willing to take spears through the heart for each other. Now that Clarke's voiced it, let it all spill out between them, he feels like it's all going to erupt from inside of him and it's too much for a moment so fragile-
The tent's flap flutters gently and Octavia appears, long hair blowing in the slight breeze. Her eyes widen when she sees Clarke upright and she rushes over, throwing her arms around the other girl. "Clarke! You're awake! I'm so glad you're okay. You are okay, aren't you?"
Bellamy listens to Clarke answer Octavia in a smoothed over tone, all traces of sadness or frustration gone. He had scooted away to make room for Octavia and his hands burn from touching her.
He stands up and walks towards the tent's opening, ignoring Octavia's questions. He seeks out Finn, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against a tree. "What the hell, man?"
"Shut up," Bellamy snaps, crossing his arms. "Clarke's awake. Now that she is, I think it's time we kill Murphy."
"And... you're asking me?"
Bellamy sneers. "You obviously still like her more than you should. That's good motivation for bloodlust."
Finn just eyes him for a moment before his mouth slowly curls into a smirk. "And you do, too, don't you? Like Clarke. More than you should."
Bellamy doesn't hesitate and slams the other boy into the tree again, this time pinning him there. He speaks through gritted teeth: "You don't get to talk about Clarke anymore, not after what you did. Don't talk about things you don't understand, and if I ever catch wind of you talking about me again, I'll string you up to this tree like a goddamn puppet. Got it?"
Finn nods, wincing as the bark of the tree pokes his skin through his shirt, and Bellamy releases him. He stalks back towards the medical tent, content to sit outside with a knife and make sure Clarke stays safe.
Octavia emerges early the next morning, her hands stained with old blood, but a satisfied smile on her face nonetheless. It softens when she sees him still sitting there, taking on a mischievous glint he's wary of. "You should sleep, Bell."
He rolls his eyes, tossing a rock back and forth from one hand to the other. "It's like you don't even know me."
His sister sighs. "She's fine, Bell, so you can sleep." When he doesn't say anything, she adds, "Clarke would want you to rest."
He frowns. "That's a low blow, Octavia."
"I know," she says, her eyebrows furrowing. "But if it keeps you safe, I'll say it."
Clarke calls out for her and she stands, wiping her hands off on her jeans, briefly touching his shoulder before she goes inside. For a moment, he considers following her in, but he's a little afraid of finishing his and Clarke's previous conversation. He's been analyzing it in his head, although he's not even sure if she was delirious or still caught somewhere in her terrifying dream-land, so it's possible that none of it even meant anything-
"Bellamy."
Octavia's poking her head out, smiling that funny smile again. "She's asking for you."
She excuses herself to go speak with Jasper, leaving him alone with Clarke. She's dabbing a wet cloth over her stab wound, having to crane her neck a little awkwardly to do so, and Bellamy reaches out his hand. "Here, let me."
She hands over the rag without protest, hiking her shirt up to just below her bra so he can clean it properly. She's sitting, so he kneels on the floor, pressing feather-light touches of the rag to her wound.
"Bellamy," she says after a moment, and he looks up, his hand stilling. Her voice sounds healthy and content, and she lifts one side of her mouth in a smile when he looks up at her. "I'm glad you're here."
He allows himself to smirk at this, his fingers tapping lighting on her sides. "Of course, Princess. I have to clean up after my fearless leader, after all."
She shoves him lightly in the shoulder, smiling in a way that makes her eyes crinkle at the sides. Her hand trails from his shoulder to the back of his neck, playing with his hair, and he forgets to clean her wound when she's close like this. He forgets to do anything, really, with her gazing down at him like that, her fingers lightly stroking his hair. "No, I mean here on Earth."
"Oh." He's lightheaded, his hands stilling at her waist, the rag hanging uselessly. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Her face shifts, her eyes softening. "Bellamy?"
"Hm?"
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and Bellamy knows her well enough to know that she's having some sort of war with herself in her mind. Finally, though, she says "Kiss me."
He gazes up at her, unsure for a moment if he really heard her, but she's looking back at him with that wide, open look. He stands, gently leaning over her until she lies on her back and he's hovering above her, his body bracketing hers. Her pulse jumps in her neck, the muscles there moving, and Bellamy has to close his eyes. He's not sure what to do now because he can't just screw around with her; she's Clarke, and she means more than that. He cares more than that.
"Bellamy," she says impatiently, almost a whine, and Bellamy stops thinking.
He pushes their mouths together, gentle and soft, letting his eyes close as she kisses him back, her fingers making their way down his arms. He catches her hands in his, twining their fingers, and gently presses her hands down into the mattress. Even like this, they can wordlessly understand each other, and Bellamy's never had that before.
She tastes like freshwater and nighttime, her lips parting beneath his, and he is completely submerged and lost in her. He tries to keep his weight off her in consideration for her wound, but she huffs impatiently, nudging at his legs with her feet until he gently lowers himself against her. They touch everywhere. He feels like she's setting him on fire, and like he could do this for hours- just kiss her, not wanting or expecting anything more.
When he allows himself to kiss down her neck, he's pleasantly surprised at the soft sounds that come from her throat and the way she surges forward, arching her body against him. He finds her lips again, kissing her slowly but in a way that sets his entire being abuzz, feeling her eyelashes brush his cheek, and he shivers. He can't remember the last time he was this close to somebody- close as in close, lining up on every edge, their heartbeat against his own. With a jolt, he realizes this is the first time he has been connected like this with somebody before.
She has to pull away to breathe, and she's beautiful: her eyes still closed, her lips swollen and stretched into a shy smile. Bellamy shifts so he can tuck her head beneath his chin, her small frame engulfed by his larger one as he presses close to her. He presses light kisses to her shoulder, the back of her neck, anywhere he can reach without having to move too far. They're quiet for a while, Clarke's chest still rising and falling rapidly against his, shifting so he fits around her like a shadow.
"Don't leave," she says, voice heavy with contentment and sleep, and pulls his arms around her so she can hold his hands close to her heartbeat, which is still erratic.
Bellamy smiles against her hair, shutting his eyes and feeling the way her breathing slows, surrounded by her and the feel of her heartbeat. "I'm not going anywhere."