Bellamy watched as his sister, the baby sister he'd practically raised, ran down the hallway. Then he turned his head to where Pike, his former leader, maybe even his former mentor lay, already dead from the stab wound Octavia had inflicted.

Bellamy closed his eyes for a moment, trying to figure out if he should be angry, sad, or happy that his little sister had done the job he should have done long ago.

He opened his eyes when he felt Clarke's hand on his arm.

"Bellamy…"

He turned to look at her, although she didn't seem to have anything else to say, other than his name.

An understanding passed between them without words, as it always did. She was telling him she was there for him. She understood he was hurting, and she wanted him to know he wasn't alone.

"Should I…" He gestured after his sister, his voice sounding strangled.

She slowly shook her head. "I don't think she wants to talk right now."

He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the turmoil he was feeling.

When he focused again, he felt sharper, more clear-headed. His emotions were pushed to the back, like always. They were there, lapping at the edges of his consciousness, but they were far enough away that he could get back to the task at hand. Because he'd learned, a long time ago, that was what was necessary to survive.

This time, when he looked at Clarke, his face was grim. "Talk to me, Clarke."

He was referring to her cryptic announcement from a moment earlier, when she'd said they hadn't saved the world.

She glanced around, making sure everyone else was preoccupied or far enough away that her voice wouldn't carry to them. Leaning in closer, she spoke softly, "ALIE showed me something."

His eyes searched hers warily. "What?"

"The nuclear power plants around the world…they're all failing. We don't have much time before radiation makes the Earth uninhabitable…for real, this time."

"Son of a bitch."

She looked away, her gaze passing over those around them: her mother, who was sobbing and hugging Kane so tightly, Clarke felt like she was witnessing something private; Murphy, who was holding some girl that vaguely resembled a pirate and murmuring things in her hair, looking totally unlike himself; Miller, who was trying to stop the bleeding from a wound on Bryan's leg. They were all hurt-bruised, battered, bleeding, not to mention emotionally scared, and they thought they'd just won a great victory.

She returned her gaze to Bellamy. "They deserve a night. Just one night." Her voice was almost questioning.

His gaze made the same trip around that room that hers had made a minute earlier, taking in the chaos around them. "We'll tell them in the morning. Start…working on a plan, I guess."

"Saving the world, part 332?"

He gave her his trademark grin. "Yeah, something like that."

She smiled back for a moment, before her face fell. "Bellamy…I don't know if we can fix it this time."

"Sure we will, Princess. We always do."

She fixed her eyes on his, seeming to gain some kind of strength from whatever she found there. With a brief nod, she finally looked away. "I should help my Mom…start patching people up."

She'd only taken a few steps away from him when her legs buckled underneath her.

He caught her just before her head hit the floor. "Clarke?"

She didn't respond.

"Clarke?!" His voice was louder, his hands shaking her.

She blinked slowly, finally opening her eyes.

He turned, searching for her mother. "Abby!"

Abby was in front of him in seconds, kneeling down to run a hand over Clarke's face. "Honey, what's wrong?" She was searching her body, as if she expected to find a gaping wound.

"I…I don't know." Clarke's voice came out barely above a whisper.

"What hurts? Are you injured?"

Bellamy spoke, still cradling her shoulders with one arm. "Did you get hurt in the City of Light? Something that may have followed you here?"

"I…I don't think so. I just got so tired all of a sudden…"

Bellamy's eyes narrowed. "Clarke…when's the last time you slept?"

She frowned. "Last night."

"Bull."

Abby and Clarke both looked at him.

"I was on watch. You didn't close your eyes for more than 15 minutes."

"Don't be silly. I'm fine. I need to go look at Bryan's wound." She started to get up, only to immediately crumple back into Bellamy's arms as another wave of exhaustion hit her.

Abby went back into doctor mode, feeling her forehead for a fever, checking her pupils, and then checking her pulse. When she was done, she spoke more to Bellamy than to her daughter. "I think she's just extremely fatigued."

When Clarke scoffed, Abby looked down at her, placing a hand on her arm. "Honey, it's not just because you didn't sleep, or even because of all the stress you've been under, and that alone would be enough to bring anyone else down. You just had that…thing…in your head. Not to mention an unnecessary blood transfusion with black blood. We don't even know if she was the same blood type. Your body is probably trying to flush out her blood and make more of your own, trying to purify itself. You need to rest."

Clarke shook her head and started to protest again.

Abby silenced her. "Clarke, I'm not talking an hour nap. I mean you need to sleep. Your body needs to heal. Without it, your immune system could shut down…your whole body could shut down." She looked up at Bellamy. "Can you take her somewhere quiet? I'll finish up as soon as I can and then I'll come take care of her."

He shook his head. "You do what you need to do. I've got her."

Abby watched him uncertainly as he picked her daughter up, standing with her cradled in his arms. "Bellamy…"

He looked at her sternly. "I've got her."

Abby nodded, almost reluctantly.

Turning towards the door, he started carrying Clarke out of the room.

"Wait!" Abby called to him as she got something out of her medical bag. She placed a small bottle of Monty's moonshine and a clean cloth in Clarke's hand. Her eyes met Bellamy's. "I…she has cuts…on her chest." She looked away guiltily. "They shouldn't need stitches, but make sure they're clean."

Bellamy nodded, again heading for the door. He stopped just in front of his second in command. "Miller, you got this?"

Miller took one look at Clarke, glanced around the room, then locked his gaze back on Bellamy's, nodding.

Bellamy carried Clarke down the long hallway, turned down a shorter hallway, and headed for a small bedroom he'd seen when he was trying to secure the floor just a few hours earlier. Carrying her inside, he laid her down on the bed before going back to shut the door and lock it.

She raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged. "You're getting a decent night's sleep." Walking back over to her, he gently pulled her into a sitting position, but when he took his hands off her shoulders, she started to sway again.

"Dammit, Clarke." Running his fingers through his hair, he eyed their situation, trying to come up with a solution. Finally, he kneeled on the bed beside her, helping her scoot back so her back was against the wall, helping to hold her up. He eyed her warily. "You good?"

She nodded.

He carefully released her, making sure she stayed upright when he let go of her this time.

He searched the room, finding a bowl and a pitcher of clean water. "We're going to take care of those cuts, get you cleaned up a little, and then you're going to sleep for at least 10 hours. Okay?"

"Okay." Her voice barely carried across the tiny room to him.

He returned, kneeling beside her on the bed again. "Okay, we need to take your Grounder shit off."

She smiled, eyes still closed. "Grounder shit?"

"Have you seen this thing, Princess? Not exactly ark issue." He tapped on the corset she wore.

"You scared of my clothes, tough guy?"

"This? Nah." One side of his mouth lifted in a smirk. "That coat you had on before though…"

She reached up, barely managing to smack his arm.

He chuckled, unhooking her corset. There seemed to be a million tiny little hooks, and if he noticed his hands shaking, he blamed it on the adrenaline let down from the battle a few minutes ago.

Finally unhooking it, he pulled it off. He immediately noticed her breathe a little easier.

"God, that feels better."

He shook his head, trying not to grin as he removed his jacket. "Okay. Let me see those cuts."

Clarke's eyes were closed again and she didn't seem in a hurry to move, so he carefully brushed her hair over her shoulders, giving him access to the two puncture wounds on her chest.

He sucked in a breath when he saw them. "What happened, Clarke?"

She didn't open her eyes. "My mom."

His hand stilled on the bottle of moonshine he'd been opening. "What?"

"When she was…chipped." Clarke seemed to be fading in and out, and even getting out those few words took her a few breaths. "It's fine. Just…alcohol." She gestured in the general vicinity of her chest.

Of course, even half asleep, she was giving orders and trying to doctor everyone…even herself.

"Working on it, Princess." Bellamy poured some on the cloth, then gently wiped the wounds. He winced when he heard her gasp, but the pain only seemed to last a moment, because she started breathing evenly again after a few seconds.

"Okay?" He asked.

She nodded.

"Keep your eyes closed."

Pulling the bowl of water towards him, he dipped the cloth in, wrung it out, and then gently started wiping the dirt off her forehead. He repeated the process a few times, until he'd gotten her face as clean as possible, given the circumstances.

When he got off the bed, she opened her eyes.

"Your turn." She mumbled.

He shook his head.

"Bellamy…don't make me come do it myself." She smiled, laughing at herself, because she knew there was no way she could sit up straight on her own, let alone actually carry through with her threat. She moved her hand toward him, pointing to his face. "Blood…bruises…you know I'll never be able to sleep if you don't clean them."

He sighed, walking over to the piece of broken glass on the wall that apparently served as a mirror. Using the water, he removed as much of the dried blood and dirt as he could, then dabbed the alcohol on the cuts.

When he turned back around, her eyes were closed again.

Sitting on the bed beside her outstretched legs, he pulled her boots off. "Come on, Clarke. You need to get some sleep."

She made a vague noise in her throat.

He took stock of her, taking note of the filthy state of her pants, not to mention how uncomfortable they looked.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the muscle in his cheek twitch when he did.

There was no reason to be uncomfortable about this. She was his friend and she was sick. It's the same thing he'd do for any one of his friends or his sister.

At least that's what he kept telling himself.

He grabbed her hands, pulling her to the edge of the bed, so her legs were hanging off.

She blinked up at him drowsily.

He looked away briefly before squatting down in front of her, his hands going to the waistband of her pants, his fingers resting on the button.

His gaze met hers. "Trust me?"

Her eyes looked a little wider than normal, but all she did was nod.

His fingers quickly undid the button, then slid down the zipper.

Something about the sound made him tense. He swallowed, hard, just as he heard her make a tiny noise above him, something that sounded almost like a sigh.

He stepped back, putting a few feet between them and running his hand through his hair. "I…I should go get your mother…or Octavia…"

"No."

Placing his hands on his hips, he looked at her.

She was swaying slightly on the edge of the bed, and while she still looked half out of it, she was gazing at him with something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"You sure?" He asked, his voice coming out a little strangled.

She nodded.

Walking back over to her, he put his hands around her waist, carefully lifting her up and pulling her against his body. "Can you put your arms around my neck?"

She complied, which put their bodies flush against each other.

Bellamy took ahold of the waistband of her pants, and pulled them down carefully until he got them just past her hips.

He was leaning over, which left her face buried somewhere in-between his shoulder and his neck. Feeling, more than hearing, her make some kind of noise, he abruptly stopped and put his hands back on her waist.

Was she…crying? "Clarke?"

The noise increased, and his eyebrows raised when he realized what it was. "Are you…laughing?"

He felt her nod into his shoulder.

"Why?!"

She moved back just a few centimeters; far enough so that she could talk, but not far enough that he couldn't feel her lips move against his shirt as her mouth moved. "I just…I never imagined this was how this would happen for the first time."

Wait. Did she just say…

His hands tightened on her waist as her words sunk in.

"Clarke?" He tried to pull her back to look at her face, but she practically slid down him when he took away the support of his body.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, he watched as she immediately sank down, eyes closed again.

Of course, she chose now to fall back asleep.

Shaking his head, but also slightly glad for the reprieve, he knelt down, pulling her pants the rest of the way off.

Standing up, he took ahold of her around the waist, again pulling her up and leaning her against his body. With his free hand, he pulled back the covers on the bed.

"Okay, sleeping beauty. Time for bed."

She just stood there, leaning against him.

Muttering softly, he bent, sweeping his arm under her knees and cradling her against his chest the same way he had before, except it was even more intimate, seeing as how she didn't have any pants on.

Willing himself not to look anywhere other than her face, he gently laid her down and then pulled the covers over her.

As he leaned there, some part of him instinctually wanted to lean down and kiss her on the forehead. Before he even knew what was happening, his head started moving in that direction.

That's when she opened her eyes.

He froze, expecting her to jump or look surprised or angry or…something.

Instead, she just looked at him, her face mere inches from his.

Clearing his throat, he stood up, going to sit in the chair against the wall.

He sat hunched over, his head in his hands, until he felt very clear pinpricks on the back of his neck, almost like she was watching him.

He looked up to find her gaze on his.

"Go to sleep, Clarke."

She slowly shook her head.

"You're exhausted. You can't even hold yourself up right now. And you heard your mom…you have to sleep to heal."

"I think…I'm too tired to sleep now."

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze still connected to hers. He could tell when she was lying. "Clarke."

She sighed. "I'm afraid of what I'll see when I close my eyes, Bellamy." It was the most lucid she'd sounded since she'd first fainted in the other room.

His jaw clenched. "The City of Light?"

She nodded. "Everyone was coming after me. It was like…a mob. People pressing in all around me…everyone trying to kill me…and no matter where I went…" Her voice trailed off as a quiet sob shook her body.

Bellamy watched her for another moment before reaching down to pull off his boots.

He stood, taking the few steps necessary to reach the bed. Once beside it, he stood there, staring down at her, still unsure.

She nodded at his pants, which were close to her eye level. "You too."

He sucked in a breath. "Still trust me?"

"Bellamy…" She just blinked up at him, face soft in the gentle moonlight shining in the window. "…always."

Her words did funny things to his insides.

"Besides, fair is fair." Her last word was almost lost in a yawn.

Before he could think about it anymore, he quickly stepped out of his pants. "No, Princess. Fair would be you taking them off me."

He could swear he saw a faint blush come over her cheeks.

She scooted over towards the wall a little, making room for him.

He lifted the covers, crawling into the bed with her.

They both lay there in silence for a minute, him on his back, her curled in the fetal position a few inches away, facing him but not touching him.

He turned his head toward her, meeting her gaze.

Seeing that she was still trying to keep her eyes open, he muttered a curse under his breath.

Turning on his side, he reached for her. "Come here."

He pulled her into his body.

Instead of stopping him or trying to keep some distance between them, she scooted closer, seeming to melt into him.

He let the hand that was on her waist fall to her back, his arm around her, holding her close.

He lay there for a moment, just getting used to the feeling of her pressed against him and wondering if she could hear how loudly his heart was beating.

All he could think about was what she'd said earlier… 'I never imagined this was how this would happen for the first time.'

Someday, when she wasn't nearly catatonic, maybe he'd work up the courage to ask her just what she meant by that comment.

Her hand curled into his shirt, just above his stomach, and he felt her let out a long sigh. Within just a few seconds, he felt her breathing even out and he knew she'd fallen asleep.

So he did what he'd wanted to do earlier, before he'd chickened out.

He pressed his lips gently against the top of her head before his own eyes closed.

Clarke woke slowly.

That in itself was an odd feeling, because she couldn't remember the last time she hadn't been rudely jostled awake or when her internal alarm hadn't been telling her she needed to get up immediately to take her turn on watch.

The odder feeling though, was how completely warm she felt. It wasn't an 'I'm on the cold ground, but I have a hide on top of me, so it's not that bad' warm, or a 'the sun came out, so the breeze isn't as chilly now' warm. It was like a cocoon of warmth.

She felt warm from head to toe, and she was starting to realize that only part of that had to do with the actual temperature. For the first time in months, she felt safe. It was such an alien feeling, it had taken her a while to process it, but that was definitely what it was.

Every other morning, her first instinct was to open her eyes and look around, making sure there weren't any signs of danger. This morning, her instinct was to leave her eyes closed and burrow deeper into the warmth.

She gave in to the urge, just a little, and her eyes flew open immediately. She suddenly realized the final reason she was so warm. Her hips were pressed tightly against a set of obviously male hips, and upon opening her eyes, all she could see was part of a t-shirt-covered chest and the strong bicep of the arm that was wrapped tightly around her back.

The previous night came flooding back to her as heat unfurled low in her stomach.

Bellamy.

She closed her eyes as she took stock of their situation, terrified she'd wake him if she moved again.

She was on top of him. Literally-on top of him.

One of her bare legs was in-between his, her hips and torso were above his, and her head was turned to the side, burrowed into his chest. One of her hands was on his side and the other was laying on his chest beside her head.

His arms were around her; one hand resting on her upper back, tangled in her hair, the other wrapped all the way around her waist, gripping her hip on the other side. His head must have been just above hers, because she could feel his breath on her hair.

There was no way she could get up without waking him, so she tried to be as nonchalant as possible. "Bellamy?"

He didn't respond, although she did hear his breathing change.

She turned her head, looking up at him for the first time.

She'd been correct, his head was just above hers, and she found herself staring at a sleeping Bellamy from just a few inches away.

Taking a moment, she just watched him. At the moment, he wasn't soldier Bellamy or badass Bellamy…he was just…Bellamy.

His face was peaceful, gentle, and the only time she'd ever seen anything even close to that look on his face was occasionally when he looked at his sister…and sometimes when he looked at her.

Before she could think about it, before she could stop herself, she did what she'd been wanting to do since she woke up.

She pressed a soft kiss to his chest.

His arms tightened around her as he started stirring.

Praying that he wasn't awake enough to know what she'd just done, she tried saying his name again, hoping he would assume that was what woke him. "Bellamy."

His eyes opened quickly, staring up at her in shock. "Clarke?"

His voice was raspy and Clarke had to force herself not to close her eyes at how good it sounded, especially since she could feel the rumble of his chest under her head as he said it.

"…morning?" She said, uncertainly.

She watched as the fog cleared from his eyes, reality coming back to him.

"Morning." He said gruffly.

They laid there, watching each other for who knows how long. At one point it felt like a few seconds, at another point, it felt like they'd been lying there for hours, but all Clarke knew was, when Bellamy finally averted his eyes, it felt like it was over too soon.

She tried to hold in a sigh.

His gaze flicked back to hers, suddenly concerned. "You okay? Last night…the blood transfusion…"

"I think so. I won't be sure until I start moving around…"

"Right." His arms released her slowly, almost reluctantly.

She tried to put some of her weight on her knee so she could pick herself up off of him, but she stopped when she felt him tense beneath her. "Easy, princess. Don't hurt the family jewels."

Oh. "Sorry!" She winced.

He nodded.

"I'm not sure how to…"

Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her again, rolling onto his side and taking her with him.

Their momentum carried them a little too far, and he ended up partially on top of her.

Clarke just looked up at him, her hands still on his waist, and his now pressed into the mattress on each side of her head.

Her breathing seemed to slow, while his seemed to get louder.

Abruptly, he pushed himself off her and rolled to his feet on the floor. "Sorry."

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get her bearings. "It's fine."

She stood up, quickly becoming acutely aware of the fact that neither of them had pants on.

Spotting hers beside the bed, she quickly grabbed them, stepping into them just as she heard him doing the same.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, tugging on her boots at the same time he was tugging his on while sitting on the chair.

Finishing at the same time, they looked up at each other.

An awkward silence ensued for a few seconds.

She wasn't sure which one of them started it, but suddenly they were both grinning.

"Are you really okay? You were in a bad way last night." His face turned serious with his question.

"Yeah. I'm still a little tired, but I feel like myself again." She glanced out the window at the sun. "God, we must have slept for ages."

His gaze followed hers out the window. "I guess so."

"Thank you."

His eyes flicked back to hers.

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"You never have to thank me for that, Clarke."

She looked away at the intensity in his eyes.

"You were pretty out of it. Do you…remember everything?"

Her eyes widened. The first thought that popped into her mind was that they'd had sex, because that was the implication that sort of question carried, but she distinctly remembered falling asleep in his arms with at least the important parts of their clothing still on. Plus, she was 100% sure Bellamy wouldn't have taken advantage of her exhausted state.

"…I think so. Some of it seemed to fade in and out, almost like a dream. Why?"

His face remained impassive. "Nothing. Just curious."

"Okay…" She stood up, trying to put her 'Clarke the leader' face back on. "We need to go tell them."

He stood, assuming a nearly identical expression and nodding as he grabbed his jacket.

She bent to pick up her last piece of clothing…the corset that she remembered him taking off her the night before.

Looking back at him, she tossed it back on the bed, leaving it behind. "Wouldn't want to freak you out or anything," she said, tongue-in-cheek.

That spark of fire she'd tossed at him, that reminder of last night, it seemed to ignite something in him.

She was almost to the door, but she froze when she heard him utter his next words.

"So…tell me, Clarke. How, exactly, did you imagine me taking your pants off for the first time?"