Fifteen days have passed since Derell died in front of the camp. Following that, people started dropping left and right. Friends, family, foes; the disease spared no one. I have been trying to help as many as I can but there are only so many places I can be at once. I haven’t seen Clarke in days now, but I know she is still here, in the camp, because that’s just who she is. Regardless of how much time passed and how mad she was at all of us, she would never leave her people, her mother and friends, to suffer through this alone. Maybe, that’s why I was so mad in the first place that she left. Not because she left by herself, but because she left us alone. She ripped herself away from us, without letting any of us have a say in it. Thinking back to what happened in front of the gates, I also should have tried harder. Should have talked to her longer, maybe even begged her, got on my knees. It feels now as if I let her go so easily, almost not conveying just how loved and needed she was in this camp. It that selfish of me to think? Definitely. But I’m getting a feeling I might not make it past this illness so when is the better time for selfishness than now.
Octavia and Abby are working away in the patient rooms, both of them looking strong and healthy, which was good, very good. Bellamy still felt alright so he continued on checking on everyone, most of whom were just paralyzed with fear that they were next. They weren’t wrong to be scared. Bell was scared too.
He finally makes a round and comes back to the same spot he’s returned to countless times, in front of Clarke’s hut. Debating with himself, he decides to check on her. He realizes now that the reason he waited so long to see her was that a) he didn’t want to contaminate her, in case he has the disease, which is a silly thought now, since it seems the very air is contaminated and no one is safe; and b) he was afraid of what he might find in the hut. Calling out to Clarke, Bellamy slowly parts the drapes to reveal a sleeping figure. Her face flushed, her breathing shallow. She is sweating profusely, not due to the heat, since they were in the middle of October, but because she is sick. Bellamy knows it. He leans closer to her to check her temperature, which is when Clarke opens her eyes.
“Bellamy? What are you doing here? You need to leave; I don’t feel too good. I think I got it, Bell. The disease,” admits Clarke with tears in her eyes. “so you need to leave before I pass it on to you. Please!”
Clarke’s eyes are desperate, turning off all the functions in Bellamy’s brain, which is how he finds himself in the bed, wrapping his arms around her body. He knew for a long time that she brought out the best in him, and now he knows that living without her and leaving her in pain is not something Bellamy will ever do.
“It’s okay if you give it to me. But I am not leaving you, Clarke. It’s not up for debate. You and I will go through this together and we’ll either die or survive together. I will not leave you, I won’t fail you again, I promise,” says Bellamy with tears in his eyes. He wanted to say those words for so long now and, once they are out, he understands that he means all of it.
“Bellamy,” pleads Clarke. “Please!’
“Shh, it’ll be alright. Together, right?” Bellamy reminds Clarke, kissing her forehead.
“…Together” replies Clarke.