"Where is he?" Clarke muttered to herself anxiously, "Come on, come on!" she urged, pacing now as the cloud of smoke began to clear away.

"Clarke, look, just calm down," Finn sighed. If Bellamy was dead...and if he was honest with himself, he hadn't quite made up his mind whether or not it would be such a bad thing for the group if he was...that would mean that Clarke was the sole leader. And he...they needed her to stay calm and rational. He wanted to comfort her, and began reaching for her arm.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, pulling away before he was close enough. She had a fierceness in her voice that surprised both her companions into reflexively stepping back.

"I'm sorry," she amended, her voice more modulated, but still emphatic, "I touched Glen, and we saw him die right in front of us. Dixon started exhibiting symptoms just before the smoke. The only thing I can think of that may connect the two cases is their exposure to the smoke from Murphy's vial," ...Bellamy was exposed too, she thought, he was there too, and now I can't find him and... "I don't know how it's spread," she said with a soft tremor in her voice, that she quickly masked. "I think it's airborne. It seems reasonable to assume so, but...I don't..." she trailed off until she concluded with the hard truth. "I could be infected."

"You think it's an infection?" Raven clarified, "That someone could catch it?"

"I don't know," Clarke looked down, clenching her hands in frustration, "I don't know..."

The sickening sizzle of blood on Glen's face became forefront in her mind's eye. His own blood was burning him from the inside out until it consumed his body as fuel for smoke and death. Another life she couldn't save. She paled at the thought, then abruptly pushed it away. There was no use in ruminating on matters that were out of her hands, "Until we can come up with some sort of conclusion I think you should both keep your distance."

"Clarke, that's ridiculous!" Clarke looked up to see Finn's eyes fixed in mild panic.

"No, it's not." Raven countered.

Clarke gave her a half smile, thanking her soundlessly for supporting her.

"You should both head back to camp to see what's happened with the other boys...Connor, Mark and Ace. You need to isolate them and anyone who's had contact with them...you need to go warn them. The smoke's almost cleared. I should be able to find Bellamy and Dixon soon and we'll head back as soon as we can."

"What if they're dead?" Raven asked bluntly.

"We're not," came a deep, gruff, but strong voice from a few metres away, "Dixon?"

There was a wet cough followed by a, "...not yet, anyway," from Dixon.

They stood in full view of Finn, Raven and Clarke, Bellamy looking none worse for the wear supporting Dixon who was leaning heavily against him, traces of smudged blood from his eyes and near his mouth.

"He's not well enough to travel," Clarke decided after taking a quick glance at him. "It won't be safe enough for us to take him through Grounder territory, and I'm not leaving him here," she added before anyone suggested otherwise.

"What are you proposing we do?" Bellamy asked.

"We'll wait here until he's well enough...until you and I are sure that we're not symptomatic,"

"Then what?" Finn pressed.

"Then we head back," Clarke replied.

"You can't stay out here in the open. You're too exposed," Finn countered.

"And there's explosive material all around," Raven added, "the fuels aren't stable. It's not safe to stay here."

For a moment, Raven wondered why she felt so strongly about leaving Clarke and Bellamy behind. She had Finn. Finn would be safe with her...and yet...she feared the prospect of returning back to a camp that would likely be overrun by chaos. She, like everyone else, it seemed, had fallen under the spell that was the leadership of Bellamy and Clarke...that under their guidance, as faulty as it was at times, their little band of humanity had a fair shot at making it. To potentially lose them both in one fell sweep was...it was something she refused to imagine until she absolutely had to.

The tense atmosphere was made even more urgent when Dixon let out a choking cough growing so weak, Bellamy found himself shuffling to stabilize them both.

"You can't stay here," Finn said again in desperation.

"We don't have a choice," Clarke said in a quiet, but harsh tone. Her expression was fierce, leaving no room for question. "We'll move to the outskirts of the crash site. There's more tall grass coverage there."

Finn shook his head, clearly unhappy with the turn of events but realizing he was powerless to stop them from unfolding, "Be careful," he said instead with deep feeling.

Unable to help herself, she gazed deeply into his eyes and nodded slowly. Her emotions were mixed, but that last look conveyed them more strongly than words could have done...This is the way it has to be...I'm sorry...

Raven produced a small pouch of nuts and berries. "Don't be too long," she muttered before dropping the pouch into Clarke's hands. She turned to collect her supplies and go.

"Wait!" Bellamy called.

Raven turned, her dark pony tailed hair swinging to her face at the speed.

"Tell Octavia that..." he was momentarily at a loss for words, unsure what to say. He swallowed and looked down at the ground, masking whatever expression was on his face. He couldn't promise her anything. Not now. "Tell Octavia I love her," he said gruffly. He turned away and began walking himself and Dixon in the opposite direction, towards the edge of the clearing where the shrubs and foliage grew.

Clarke stood alone, watching them go. Finn turned back five times before they completely disappeared from view.

...

"Can you describe to me what you're feeling? Exactly what you're feeling and where?"

"Like crap," Dixon grunted, "Everywhere."

Clarke held back the urge to growl in frustration. Though the tall grasses around the site gave them enough cover, it was getting dark. Who knew what happened in the area after dark. With her luck, they'd be eaten by wild animals at best and tortured by Grounders at worst. Neither sounded like a particularly pleasant way to go.

In hindsight, her "plan" had been more of a desperate attempt to ensure that Finn and Raven were safe, that they would try to somehow salvage the rest of the hundred back at the camp...because she was uncertain of the state she and Bellamy would be in if...when they got back.

...because Bellamy had started to exhibit some symptoms. He was hiding them. Clarke was pretending she didn't notice. He was pretending he didn't know she was pretending not to notice.

"I'm gonna die," Dixon declared shakily, "I'm going to die here."

"You might not," Clarke replied softy, acutely aware of the lack of assurance and comfort in her words.

Dixon gave her an uncharacteristically warm smile, "I will," he insisted, "But it'll be on the ground. I'll die on the ground. I can feel it against my hands, and it's solid...I like that. I can be okay with that."

"Dixon..." Clarke trailed off as Dixon let out a loud, gurgling cough. He had closed his eyes and she could see a trail of bloody tears fan out onto his cheeks. Leaning, she began to stroke the bangs away from his forehead. As she did this, she hummed softly.

Bellamy was taken back...how long had it been? Days? Weeks? He found himself unable to determine the length of time that had passed since he'd last heard that song...a lullaby about pretty little horses...an illusion, like everything else they had been taught about the earth.

He morbidly wondered if Clarke would give him the same courtesy when it was his time. His nose had started to bleed and he felt the slight tremors in his hands. He wondered how much time he had left...how much they all had. How much she had...

And if things had been different...if they had stayed the same...he would be on the Ark, stuck on latrine duty, while Clarke would have been locked away waiting for her death sentence. All in all, not much different from where they stood now...except here on earth princesses and slaves could die together.

"Clarke," he murmured.

"Hmm?" she answered.

"Is he?"

"Yes,"

"Then we need to get moving. It's getting dark. It'll be harder to tell how far the smoke reaches and whether we've cleared it or not."

Clarke didn't look up. Her face remained focused on Dixon's frozen, peaceful expression. She kept humming.

"Clarke," Bellamy started again, with more force in his tone, "Did you hear me? We need to get moving."

She let out a shaky, determined breath. "I heard you," she replied, "Whether we move or stay, you and I both know it hardly matters now."

"You need to move," Bellamy insisted. "Get up," he ordered, jolting upward himself, his aim to pull her up and push her away from Dixon's body ready to self destruct, away from the infection...away from him. He grabbed her arm, forcefully hauling her up.

"Bellamy, wait!" she protested as he began shoving her away from Dixon's body. She tried to push back.

"Clarke, so help me god, I will pick you up and hurl you away from here if that's what it takes to get your stubborn ass moving."

"Just...just wait," she continued to struggle against him until he was all but hugging her against his body to move her arms down and out of the way. Bellamy suddenly realized their close proximity but kept his hands firmly grasped against her upper arms.

"What?" he demanded.

She stopped her movements and looked up, staring straight into his dark brown eyes as though trying to read his thought lurking behind them...and then he saw it...the red tears forming out of the corner of her eyes.

"No," he said as though winded by the sight. "It's not possible. No..."

"Let's stay here and rest for a while," Clarke murmured softly, "It looks like a clear night. If we look up, we can see the stars."