No no no no no no no no... that's all I got after that last episode.

I don't normally write Bellarke... but I have to ... after that...

Inspired partially by a couple of tumblr posts by bell-xrke and albinowatermelon.

Bellamy was unconscious when they found him. Broken and bruised and half dead for lack of blood. He'd been inside for less time than the others, but somehow he looked the worst of them all.

They'd only managed to free a dozen or so of their people, and as many grounders. It was a tactical failure and they'd had to retreat. But Clarke couldn't help consider the operation a success when they laid Bellamy in her sickbay. Broken but breathing. Her mother was moving from bed to bed, but Clarke stayed with Bellamy. It was her fault this had happened. The least she could do was repair the damage as best she could and be there when he woke.

When he finally began to stir she'd already washed and bandaged the worst of the lacerations and splinted several broken fingers. She was doing another when suddenly his hand was ripped from hers. She looked up in both surprise and relief, but his eyes were wide and terrified.

"Not you," he murmured.

Clarke pulled back, momentarily stunned out of her relief by this response.

"God, Bellamy-" she muttered. The apology was on the tip of her tongue but she'd no time for it now. Not when he was looking at her like she had done this to him. (she had done this to him...)

He pulled as far away from her as he could.

"Abigail... Not you... Abby."

"Bellamy, I'm sorry... I ... just let me help you."

"GET HER AWAY," he roared, pulling so far back he crashed to the floor on the other side of the bed, crying out as the fall jolted his cracked ribs. Clarke dove forward to help but he just drew back further. Her mother hurried over, dropping to her knees next to him.

"It's alright Bellamy. You're back at sickbay, no one will hurt you here."

"Get her away," he repeated.

Abby nodded at Clarke, "I'll take care of him Clarke, why don't you help out with some of the other patients for now." Clarke backed away from Bellamy's bed. She moved on to the other patients but all the while she could feel the heat of Bellamy's glare shooting daggers into her back.

When the worst of the injuries had been tended to Clarke slipped outside the bay for a moments relief from the horrified stare she was getting from Bellamy. (He was right. She was poison. Wells was dead, then Finn and now nearly Bellamy. He was right to fear her.)

"Clarke? Honey?"

Clarke shook her head. "How is he," she asked her mother.

"Not good. He'll live but... I'm not sure he really knows where he is. There may be some kind of drug in his system inducing this paranoia. We'll have to wait and see if it clears his system. He's got a high fever on top of everything else. I've got him on a course of antibiotics, some of the lacerations were infected."

"I saw."

"Give him time, Clarke. People react to pain in many different ways-"

"I know."

Her mother finally left to get some food. Clarke refused to join her but she tried her best to smile when Abby kissed her on the forehead.

She avoided him for days. In the same sickbay but unable to speak to him. Unable to get closer than a few meters away from him without his entire body tensing as for a fight. He wasn't like this with anyone else. He hugged Octavia desperately when she came to visit him, holding her as tightly as he could with several cracked ribs. He traced his fingers over the healing bruises on her face with concern and she smiled and laughed and told him he was one to talk.

Once when Octavia was visiting Clarke had to change a bandage for the grounder on the bed next to Bellamy. Bellamy sat up, moving himself between Clarke and his sister. Physically blocking her off as she had seen him do so many times before to protect someone he cared about from a threat. Octavia chided him lightly that Clarke wasn't the enemy, but Bellamy ignored her and didn't back down until Clarke had moved a safe distance away.

Octavia made a point of giving Clarke a hug before leaving sick bay and Bellamy went pale.

The next time her mother left sickbay she finally moved and sat in the bed across from him. His eyes followed her suspiciously but he didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry Bellamy," she whispered. He didn't want to hear it, but she had to say it. He closed his eyes as if her words caused him physical pain. "I know this is my fault... I just want you to know I'm sorry."

His eyes remained closed and he clenched his unbroken hand. Finally he forced his eyes open to look at her. "It's not...that."

"Then what, Bellamy? Please, how can I help you?"

"Stay away from me."

"Please ... Please, just tell me why?"

He was silent again, eyes closed and jaw clenched tight. "I... Clarke, I'm sorry."

This was the one thing she was not expecting and she leaned forward slightly. "Talk to me, Bellamy. I didn't want you to get hurt. Surely you know that?"

He nodded.

"Then what? Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm not... not exactly." He looked up at her but then looked away as though he couldn't stand to see her while he spoke. "I thought of you. In there."

"What do you mean?"

"When they came for me. When they hurt me...I thought of you. I shouldn't have thought of you but I did. Of what it would be like when you found me. How you would look, your hair spilling over your shoulders, how your hands would feel on my skin as you put me back together."

She wanted to ask him why he then refused to even look at her now, but she was afraid that if she spoke he would drive her away again.

"It was the only thing that kept me sane when everything else was falling apart. You were there with me. Holding me together." He opened his eyes, looking past her rather than at her. "Now when I see you... It takes me back there. And I wonder if I ever really got out."

"Oh, Bellamy," was all she could manage to say at first.

"I don't want your pity Clarke. I just... I need some time."

"Do you still want me to leave?"

"Yes ... and No."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Clarke reached into her pocket. She pulled out a piece of string that she had used once or twice to pull her hair out of her face. Pulling her hair back she tied the string around a tight pony tail.

Bellamy was watching her carefully now, eyes wide in surprise. "I never saw you like that."

"Does it help?"

He nodded. "Yes... somehow, it does. Could you...come closer?"

She nodded, moving slowly to sit on the bed next to him which had been vacated a few hours earlier. He stiffened slightly but didn't retreat. The beds had been pushed close to make room for everyone so there was just enough space for someone to squeeze between the beds. Finally, she laid down on her side facing him.

"Can I try something?" he asked after a few minutes.

Clarke nodded and Bellamy reached across the short space between the beds. She extended her hand too and Bellamy clasped it tightly.

She squeezed back and he smiled, "we're going to be ok, Clarke, aren't we?"

Clarke nodded, "We're survivors. It's what we do."

Bellamy hadn't slept in days, but now the sleep deprivation, relief and pain medication turned out to be the perfect combination. When Abby got back from dinner they were both fast asleep, hands holding fast to each other.

Yup... it's all going to be all right guys. Right? Tell me it's going to be all right?