"Are you almost finished?" Bellamy asked her, his tone half bored and half on edge.

Clarke looked up from where she was crouched in front of the plant she needed. "Yeah, this should be enough for now."

He shifted the gun on his back. "Good. Let's go. It's getting dark and we need to get back."

She stuffed the leaves in her pack and followed him in the direction of camp. They had only been walking for a few minutes when Bellamy stopped suddenly.

Clarke almost bumped into him. "What–"

He held up a hand to quiet her and pointed at a tree in front of them. At the base of the trunk was a figure – a human figure – lying on its side.

Clarke ducked under Bellamy's arm and walked forward.

"Clarke, wait—"

"They're dead, Bellamy. Look."

His eyes followed her outstretched hand to the pool of blood in front of the figure's stomach.

Clarke knelt and pushed the person's hair off their face. "It's a woman," she said, before using her fingers to close the stranger's lifeless eyes.

Bellamy approached her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Clarke, we need to go."

"I know." She exhaled and started to get up. Just as she was about to stand, a movement behind the woman caught her eye and she dropped back to her knees. She gasped as she tipped the woman's body slightly forward. Strapped to her back was a baby.

Alarmed, Clarke quickly undid the fastenings holding the baby's carrier to her mother and lifted the bundle into her arms. She let out a relieved breath upon seeing the infant's eyes blinking up at her.

Bellamy crouched down next to her, his eyes wide. "What are we going to do with it?"

"Well, we can't just leave it here," Clarke said indignantly.

"But—" His next words were cut off by a rustling behind them. He grabbed her arm. "Let's move. Now."

Clarke gripped the baby tightly in her arms and the three of them fled toward camp.

When the gates were opened for them, Clarke immediately headed toward the dropship, Bellamy hot on her heels. She placed the baby down on a table, protecting its head with her palm, and started to unwrap the fabric that formed its carrier. Then she lifted the infant into her arms.

"What are you doing?" Bellamy asked, hands on his hips.

"Checking for injuries," Clarke said matter-of-factly. Satisfied that the baby hadn't been harmed by its mother's death, she laid it back on the table and untied its cloth diaper.

"It's a girl. Poor thing." Clarke sighed and ran a finger along the baby's cheek. "I wonder where your family is." She had dark brown eyes and a tuft of dark hair.

"We can't keep her," Bellamy said impatiently. "We don't need any Grounders showing up at our doorstep looking for her."

"Bellamy." Clarke's tone was patronizing. "She's an infant. Probably no more than four months old. We can't leave her to die."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, we need to figure out where she came from, and then return her."

The baby picked that moment to let out a wail. Clarke looked down at her.

"What do we have to use as a diaper?"

With the baby cleaned up and outfitted in a new diaper, Clarke scooped her up and headed for her tent. Again, Bellamy followed.

Once inside, Clarke kept the baby balanced in the crook of one arm while rummaging around in her pack with the other. "Aha!" She extracted a pouch of berries.

Bellamy sat next to them on Clarke's makeshift bed. "I don't understand how you're so blasé about this whole thing."

Clarke looked up. "I'm not. Obviously we have to figure out what to do with her. But I'm thinking like a doctor now – she needs to eat."

She crushed a berry between her thumb and forefinger. "C'mon, baby girl. Open up for me." She brought her finger toward the infant's mouth until she let her slip it inside, making a suckling sound as she ate the berry. Clarke repeated the action until the baby stopped eating and dozed off, satisfied.

"Look at her perfect little mouth." Clarke traced the red bow of the baby's lips with her finger as she cleaned off traces of the berries.

Bellamy swallowed and scooted closer. "I remember when Octavia was that small."

Clarke smiled at him. "Here, hold her while I go wash my hands." She passed the infant into Bellamy's waiting arms. "Look at that. You're a natural."

He smirked. "I've done this before, Princess."

When Clarke returned to her tent, she brought food for Bellamy. He passed the baby back to her so he could eat.

"How old did you say she was? Four months?" he asked as he tore into a piece of jerky.

Clarke wrapped the swaddling fabric a little tighter. "Not even. She's really too young for solid food. But what choice do we have?"

Bellamy cleared his throat. "Can you feed her? You know…" He trailed off and gestured at Clarke's chest.

She looked slightly stunned. "Do you mean, can I nurse her?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I…" She was about to say no – obviously there was no possibility of that – but then she reconsidered. "I don't know. Maybe I can."

Both of them gazed at the sleeping bundle in Clarke's arms. The baby's eyelashes fanned out in perfect half-moons as she slumbered.

"I can try."

Bellamy had gone off in search of extra blankets while Clarke probed her memory for the best way to stimulate milk production. When he returned to her tent, she looked up at him nervously.

"Thanks for those." She motioned toward the bedding. "I'm going to, um, take off my shirt now. You don't have to be here for this."

"Please, Princess." He took the baby out of her arms and lay back on her bed, placing the infant on his chest. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Now who's blasé," Clarke muttered, eyeing the surprising sight of Bellamy with the sleeping baby. Normally he radiated energy, but at that moment he seemed relaxed and peaceful.

Clarke wriggled out of her shirt and shifted away from Bellamy. She put her hands on her breasts and started to massage them. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she didn't catch him watching; rather, he was stroking his fingertips lightly over the baby's back. Letting out a breath, Clarke unclasped her bra and removed it to allow her better access. She knew that it was a long shot that she would be able to nurse, but she continued the compressions. The only noise in the tent was the sound of their breathing.

When the baby started to stir, making little sounds, Clarke looked over her shoulder again. This time Bellamy was staring straight at her, his eyes intense as he gazed at her naked skin. She gathered her courage and turned all the way around.

"Give her to me."

Bellamy sat up and transferred the baby into the crook of Clarke's arm. The back of his hand brushed her breast, making Clarke's nipple tingle. She fidgeted under the guise of getting the baby settled.

"Hello, sweetheart," Clarke cooed. "Did you have a good nap?" She traced the soft shell of the baby's tiny ear.

"Is she ready to eat again?" Bellamy asked, sitting opposite them, his attention rapt.

"Probably not, but I'm not producing milk anyway. I need her to get comfortable with me. Figure out what I smell like."

She undid the bundle of fabric so she could see the baby's hands. The infant reached her arms up, earning a big smile from Clarke, who put her pinky in one palm so the baby could grasp it, wrapping her little fingers around Clarke's much larger one. Encouraged by this interaction, Clarke lifted her toward her breast. The baby rooted around and eventually opened her mouth, allowing Clarke to slip her nipple inside.

Clarke giggled a little bit at the unexpected sensation of the baby starting to suckle. She glanced up to see a look of shock on Bellamy's face and laughed for real.

"Bellamy, she's not getting anything. It's just for comfort."

"I just—I don't—" Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face and Clarke laughed some more.

Thinking he just needed a task, she asked, "Will you get me some water?"

He was up and out of the tent in a flash. She looked back down at the suckling infant, her tiny lips dark against the pale skin of Clarke's breast. Clarke began to hum an old melody she learned from her grandmother until the baby unlatched and drifted off to sleep.

When Bellamy returned, Clarke had redressed and was rocking the sleeping baby. She accepted the water gratefully.

"I think she's down for the night," Clarke said, moving to lie down. "Let's try and get some sleep, okay? We'll figure out what to do in the morning."

"Alright," Bellamy acquiesced, kicking off his boots.

She looked at him quizzically. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready for bed," he said nonchalantly, sliding his jacket down his arms and tossing it next to his boots. His belt followed.

Speaking slowly, as if to a child, Clarke reminded him, "You don't sleep here."

"I'm not leaving this baby unprotected. Move over." He slipped under the blanket next to her, the baby between them.

"Fine," Clarke huffed. "But if she needs a diaper change in the middle of the night, you're doing it."

Author's Note: One thing I always do in my stories is make the title the last word or few words of the entire piece. So this one isn't over yet.