Hi! I finally sat down and wrote out the alternate ending that a lot of people requested for "Ashes". It was a lot of fun and I ended up writing a lot more than I planned to!

If you don't really remember what happened, it's all good - I have a recap!

"Ashes" recap: Clarke and Bellamy go to realign the radio tower. Along the way, they're convinced they will die at each other's sides. Bellamy doesn't want to die without telling Clarke that he is in love with her, but Clarke is too stunned to respond. They manage to manually realign the tower and save their friends, but not before being left behind on a radiation soaked Earth. They race back to Becca's lab and pass out from their injuries. In the original version of "Ashes", Bellamy ends up dying due to not having Nightblood, leaving Clarke alone.

Now, with that being said, this version is a little different. This is just an alternate ending, therefore the plot is the exact same up until "Chapter 4: Ashes". In other words, chapters 1-3 still apply! The only thing that changes is the outcome. If you're still confused, here is the applicable recap. Clarke and Bellamy realign the radio tower, are left behind, and make it back to Becca's lab. Clarke has just woken up and has remembered the events of earlier in the day.

Please note, there are some chunks of text taken straight from the original story "Ashes." For example, the whole opening is taken from chapter 3 of "Ashes". There are some paragraphs taken directly from that fic. I did this so I could tie this story to the original, allowing it to act like a true alternate ending. It is literally the exact same story, except for the very end. I hope that makes sense!

Warning: There is still a bunch of angst in this fic. It is angst with a happy ending though, so don't lose hope! Also, there are descriptions of injuries/sickness/gore (whatever you want to call it). It isn't very graphic, but I just want to warn everyone in case that isn't your thing.

I hope you enjoy this alternate ending!

Recap

"Ashes" Chapter 3: Race Against Time

"Come on!" Clarke screamed, stumbling back to her feet. She reached down and pulled on Bellamy's hand. How was he so much worse than her? They were exposed to the same amount of radiation for very comparable amounts of time. "Bellamy! Please!" He looked up at her, pain in his eyes.

"I can't." His voice trembled.

Clarke screamed. In a rush of adrenaline, she reached to the ground and hooked her hands under his arms. With a grunt, she helped him back up to his feet. "Let's go!" She began running in the direction of the lab, Bellamy stumbling right beside her.

She burst through the door, slamming it behind both of them. She released Bellamy, allowing his body to fall to the floor with a loud thud. He lay flat against the cool tile, not having the strength to hold his body up. She quickly followed him, falling to her hands and knees.

She coughed several times before blood flew out of her mouth, covering the glass of her suit.

Clarke no longer had the strength to hold herself up. Her arms gave out from underneath her and she landed on the floor hard. She could no longer see out of her visor due to the blood, but she could feel Bellamy's body heat not too far away.

The lights flickered and went out once Praimfaya hit. Clarke could hear glass windows breaking as the force of the wave smashed into the lab. Smoke, dust and ash flew into the building from the cracks in the doors and the busted windows.

The last thing she remembered was Bellamy crying out in pain.

"Bellamy!" she cried out. "Bell-" Clarke choked on her words. She opened her mouth to call out to him one last time, but she couldn't get the words out. She coughed again, letting more black blood flow out from in-between her lips.

Then, darkness.

Ashes: Alternate Ending

Finally, Clarke understood. She understood how she survived Praimfaya.

Nightblood.

The black substance she had shot into her veins had done its job – it had protected her, just like it had all those months ago back in Polis with the Flame. But it was hers. It wasn't just borrowed blood from a corpse anymore – it actually pumped through her veins. The feat felt impossible, but somehow it happened.

Her mother did it. No. They had done it – the whole team. It wasn't just her mother; it was Raven, Abby, Jackson, and Luna. They all pushed themselves beyond what they should've, grasping at the hope of a solution. The fire of hope had flickered countless times, but their spirit and strength is what propelled them to finding the solution.

They did it.

They found the one thing that could have saved the human race.

Could have.

The words echoed painfully around Clarke's mind.

It was too late. The wave already hit – thousands of people were dead. Yes, they had found a solution – that should've been a success. Instead, it was one of the biggest failures of Clarke's life.

She was the only one to have the protection. She was the only one with the metabolism to cure herself of radiation poisoning.

The fact that there was a solution to the wave of death should have brought her peace of mind. It should have lifted the weight of the world off of her shoulders. It should have made her see the hope – made her feel free – made her feel like she had done her job correctly for once in her damn life.

But that wasn't the case.

Instead, it felt like she was still holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, along with the pain and suffering of thousands of souls. The weight of their lives held onto her, leeching onto her own soul. The weight of needing to find a solution to save the human race was no longer on her shoulders – the weight of all of those deaths was there instead.

She failed them.

She failed them.

Why was she surprised? It seemed like she could never fully get the job done. Try to defeat the Grounders and protect her people? Okay, as long as she can attract the attention of the Mountain Men and get captured in the process. Break her people out of Mount Weather? Sure, but she'll have to kill everyone that helped her inside of that bunker. Shut down Alie and free the human race? She could do it, but not without endangering everyone with Praimfaya – not without killing everyone herself.

With every second that passed, she felt heavier and heavier. The deaths of all of those innocent souls – the lives of good men, women and children – weighed down on her. She felt responsible for their suffering. Clarke felt her heart sink further and further. All of those people – dead. She could see what happened to those that were not as lucky as her.

Their bodies, utterly destroyed by the sheer magnitude of the radiation.

Dead. Their jaws slack, eyes unseeing.

Bloodied. A trail of the crimson substance trickled out of their lips, dribbling down their chins. Where she expected tears to streak, blood covered instead.

Cold. Their life – gone. Their heart stilled – the organ no longer able to push the blood through their body. Where their hands used to sweat and cheeks used to blush, was pale and cold now. They were gone. Their bodies empty. Their bodies cold as icy.

No.

No, that wasn't the outcome. That wasn't what was left of those out there. The people without Nightblood would not be empty corpses.

No.

Her lip quivered.

There wouldn't be anything left. The radiation would have ripped their bodies apart. The death wave would leave nothing behind – no burning buildings, no smouldering forests, no dead bodies. Those that lost their lives due to her failures would never be seen again. Their ashes would have returned to the ground, becoming part of the fiery planet Earth had become.

She wished that she wasn't the only one left on Earth with Nightblood. She wished that she was able to test the blood and develop the cure for the rest of the population. She wished that nobody had died. She wished she wasn't alone.

She wished that she didn't fail.

But she did. And she had to live with that choice. She didn't test the cure. She didn't help develop and implement the Nightblood solution across the population. Everyone was dead. She was alone.

No.

Clarke swore so loudly that she could taste blood from her raw throat. The air felt like fire against her throat. Her tongue felt like salt in her wounds. But she didn't care at that moment – she couldn't care.

There was something much more important for her mind to latch on to.

Bellamy.

Her heart raced and her adrenaline spiked as she thought of him. He was here with her. He had gone with her to realign the satellite. He had fallen beside her when the wave hit – she could remember feeling the heat of his body right before the wave hit. She could remember calling out his name and reaching for him right before she passed out. The memories from the past hours crashed down around her.

/

"Sat-Star-One."

"You have to leave that tower with 10 minutes on the clock, or you'll be left behind."

"Run fast."

/

"You should go back." His voice was firm – it was an order, not a suggestion. Clarke's eye widened and her mouth opened the slightest. She stumbled over her two feet as they raced across the forest. Before she could fall, he caught her arm and straightened her. "This is really only a one-person job. I can do it alone."

"Don't do this, Bellamy. You're stupid if you think that I would leave you now." She refused to leave him to do this job alone. They'd do it together. Just like always.

/

"Dish not aligned." The words shook Clarke to her core. Red lights flashed with the message. Bellamy was frozen to the spot, his muscles tightening. His eyes were wide and it felt as if his heat had dropped to the pit of his stomach. Clarke shook her head, panic setting in as well.

"What did we do wrong!?" she cried. Bellamy took a step away from the panel, his head shaking, and Clarke took his place. "No, no, no, no!"

/

"Clarke, what do we do?" She didn't respond right away to his pleas. Bellamy opened his eyes, searching for her grey ones. Their eyes met. Where Bellamy knew he should find fear, he eerily found composure. "Clarke?"

"You need to go." Her voice held no room for arguments.

"What? No! We're in this together." He took a step towards her, taking her hands in his. "As always. We will do this together."

"Bu-"

"No. There's no time. We have to go now."

"Go where, huh, Bellamy? Either this thing gets fixed or we die. We all die. Don't you understand?"

"Of course I understand!"

"I won't make it, Bell." Clarke's voice cracked and a lone tear escaped her eye.

"Don't be stupid, there has to be-"

"There is no other way!"

"Clarke, please." His voice broke. "I – I can't lose you." He took a step towards her. "You can't do this. Please don't do this."

"I'm doing this. You need to go back." She lifted her head up to face him. Their eyes locked. "Please, Bell. I don't want to lose you either."

"Do you know what you're asking me?! You're asking me to live without you! You're asking me to leave you behind to die! How am I supposed to live knowing that I could've saved you!?"

"This is my choice! I bear it so they don't have to."

"This is my choice too, Clarke!" Bellamy argued. "I bear it so you don't have to alone. We are in this together."

"No! Bellamy, you can't, I-"

"I love you!"

/

"Raven, if you can hear me, leave. Do it now. We aren't going to make it back." A beat passed. "Don't wait for us."

/

She gasped and shuddered as her brain struggled to catch up with what happened. One thing stuck out that made Clarke's head spin. He loved her. He loved her and she didn't say it back to him.

Oh, god. Oh, god.

Where was he?

Panic like she had never felt before set into her bones.

This was different than the panic she felt while running away from Praimfaya. While she was running, she was scared for herself and scared for Bellamy. She feared for their survival and was frightened of the unknown.

Now? Now she was entirely focused on him and that made it a thousand times worse. She couldn't give a damn about her wellbeing at the moment – all she cared about was his safety.

"Bellamy!" she cried, her throat raspy. Tears were brought to her eyes from the pain she felt in her throat. Her lips split open from trying to produce the sounds of his name. "Bellamy!"

Clarke's head was spinning, but it wasn't from the loss of blood or the radiation poisoning.

It was from thinking about the possibility of Bellamy being de-

No.

Clarke wouldn't think like that. She knew he was fine. He had to be.

He had to be okay.

They were a team. He wouldn't dare leave her behind. He wouldn't dare die on her. She refused to even consider that possibility. Even though she was on the brink of hysteria, she refused to think of that. She had to stay strong.

From her memories, she knew Bellamy was near. They had collapsed right beside each other as soon as she had shut the door. She remembered feeling the heat radiating from he body as the chaos around her faded into darkness.

"Bellamy!" His name echoed around the empty room she lay in. "Bellamy!?" Panic was slowly starting to creep into her voice. Where was he? What happened to him?

Oh god. Oh god.

She tried to keep calm. She pushed her panic and uncertainty into a corner of her mind. It would do nobody any good to allow her thoughts to get any more blurred than they were already. She was suffering who knows how many injuries – she didn't need to be any more distracted with unnecessary panic.

Bellamy was fine.

He had to be.

It seemed as if she was the one to have worse radiation poisoning between the two of them, from what she remembered. And she had woken up! It only made sense that, since he was in better condition, he would've woken up too.

Even though he did not look well when she last seen him, she did not see him coughing up blood like she had been. In fact, she would've predicted the opposite of what was actually happening. After evaluating their conditions, during the race back to the lab, she would've thought he would be the one to wake up first.

Her heart was pounding in her chest so fast that she could hardly feel it. The blood rushing around her head was making her feel faint – or was that just from the fact that she had just survived so much radiation that she should have died in an instant? Her mouth felt dry and her tongue felt think, making it hard to swallow.

"Bell!" Clarke let out a sob of hysteria. She could feel herself starting to crack. That wall that she hid her panic behind was starting to deteriorate. She couldn't just push her panic and hysteria away – they were too strong. Her thoughts were starting to blurr. Her vision swam.

Suddenly, she felt trapped under all of that material of her hazmat suit. She felt as if it had swallowed her whole. It was too tight. She felt like she was suffocating. The glass that hung in front of her eyes closed her in, the helmet that pressed tightly against her ears dampened the sound of the outside and made her feel like she was locked in a cage, the material that covered her body made her feel like she was drowning.

Her panic hit a newfound high. Her eyes widened with fear. Her breathing and heart rate became even more rapid. She tried clawing at the material that surrounded her neck, but it wasn't helping.

She was trapped.

Suffocating.

Clarke bolted upright, ignoring the spinning of her head and the shooting of stars behind her eyelids. She struggled to undo the buckles that kept the helmet in place, but as soon as they were undone, the helmet came flying off.

Just in time, too. As soon as the helmet hit the floor, she was thrown to her hands and knees by an intense wave of nausea. She gagged as her stomach was emptied for what felt like an uncountable time that day. What was even left for her body to heave up? She took gulps of the smoky air into her lungs and tried to refocus her mind.

She wasn't suffocating.

She wasn't drowning.

The suit wasn't too tight.

She was fine. She was fine. It was just panic. The panic was making her feel a certain way. It was just the panic. She was fine.

No matter what she told herself, it didn't make her feel any better.

Clarke shuddered and collapsed onto her side. Her lungs begged for clean air and her eyes watered from the smoke. She felt terrible. She felt cold and weak. She felt like she was falling apart. She was scared and panicked. Her injuries were making her head spin. How was she going to survive?

She could feel a chill in her bones like no other. It felt like she had been sitting in an ice bath for far too long. It was like the chill had actually seeped into her. On the complete opposite side of the spectrum, it felt like every inch of her body was covered in burns. Her skin felt loose on her bones – almost like she didn't belong with them. It felt like her body was separating in two. Icy cold and burning hot.

What was happening?

She shook violently from the chill that crept up her spine, from the weakness, and from the fear. Clarke wasn't sure how she would be able to do anything when she was feeling so sick. She wasn't sure if she would be able to make it through the night feeling like this.

Her legs felt like they weren't attached to her body anymore – they had been worked so hard that not even the sting from overuse could be felt. Her fingers were clenched so tightly that it hurt to straighten them out. Even muscles she didn't even know could hurt were searing.

She was going to die.

She had managed to survive the deadliest thing to ever touch the planet, but she was going to be killed by the aftermath of it.

Clarke let out a sob.

For the first time in a long time, she took the moment to herself to cry. She couldn't muster the energy into a full sob, but she wished she had. She wanted to feel that burning feeling in her lungs from crying too hard. She wanted that sweet release that those sobs brought to her. She wanted to allow herself to be sucked into the pit of despair. She wanted to sob and scream and throw things.

But she didn't. She couldn't. If she had any hope of survival, she couldn't allow herself to waste energy on that.

Instead, she laid flat against the floor. The tiles were cold against her face. She let tear after tear run down her face, spreading across her cheeks. As quickly as her body would allow her, she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them. As her face got more and more damp, the more and more ashes from the floor began to stick to her. She could taste the salt from her tears and the blood on her lips.

The position she held her body in made he feel safe and warm. It was almost like she was locking in her strength and keeping out the demons this way. It reminded of being held by those that she loved – her father used to cradle her when she was younger and had a bad dream, Wells had held her a few times when she would get so fed up with how unfair society on the Ark was, Abby had held her tightly after Finn had died, and Bellamy had wrapped his arms around her on far too many occasions.

Bellamy.

Her heart stung at the thought of him. Before she could help herself, his name fell from her lips.

"Bellamy."

Over and over, she cried out for him.

Bellamy. Bellamy. Bellamy.

He never responded.

Even though she only took a minute to let her sorrows consume her, she could have sworn she said his name a hundred times.

She knew she was being selfish. She knew she should have been looking for him. She knew that his body was around the lab somewhere. It was her duty to find him and pay him a proper good bye – it was the least he deserved. He deserved more than what she could give him – and he sure as hell deserved more than having his corpse lay unfound in the lab. But she needed a moment to herself; to let out all of the pain that was in her.

She knew he was gone.

Bellamy did not have Nightblood.

She felt beyond sick from this statement. Clarke never thought that simple words could hurt so much. Her stomach was churning, her muscles had tensed up, and her head spun.

She was the only one left on Earth to have the blood that protected someone against radiation. That was why he was impacted so much while they were running in the woods. That was why she had woken up earlier.

Her heart sank.

He wasn't going to wake up at all.

Her heart hurt from this loss. Her chest was filled with so much pain that she didn't think she would ever be able to stop sobbing from it.

She only sobbed harder when she remembered his words. "I love you." And what did she do?

Not respond.

Damn it.

She loved him, too.

She loved him so much.

But it was too late. He was gone. He was dead and she was alive.

She was alive and she never told him the truth. She let him die without speaking those three simple words. She let him die, thinking she didn't love him back. She would have to live with this fact for the rest of her life.

Clarke coughed several times from crying so hard. Her muscles in her stomach and back screamed in protest from the sudden movement.

But the pain in her body would never compare to the pain in her heart.

"I'm sorry! Bell. I'm-"

She stopped in mid-sentence when her eyes caught a something a few feet away from her.

A trail of blood.

The red substance was streaked across the floor, leading from where she sat to across the room. She couldn't see where the trail lead, as it disappeared behind the work table.

It looked like a body was dragged away, leaving behind the red substance.

It took her a moment to process that fact. There was a trail of blood leading away from her.

Then, it hit her.

Oh god. Where was Bellamy?

Clarke blinked her eyes several times. Was she imagining things? How could someone have been dragged across the floor if she was the only one awake and Bellamy was the only other person on Earth? It was impossible…

Either she was imagining things or someone else was in here with her.

Clarke wasn't sure which situation was worse.

"Bellamy?" she called tentatively – hopefully. She held her breath and waited for a response.

None came.

As she stared at the fresh blood streaked across the floor, her stomach began to twist and her palms began to sweat.

She knew it wasn't from her friends – the blood was too fresh to have come from them. They had left long before they had returned to the lab.

She knew whoever had bled on the floor had passed through the lab after Praimfaya because the bodily fluid had dripped directly onto pieces of ash and soot. The ash fell before the blood.

She inched her way over to the smear to examine it closer. Through the centre, the ash had been completely cleared, leaving only a trail of blood behind. Along the edges, blood and ash had mixed together to form a dark black liquid – it reminded her of mud.

What instantly struck her was the handprint off to the side of the blood trail. It was as clear as anything she had ever seen before in her life.

A single handprint in the ash.

Clarke inched her way forward and pressed her hand against the print. It was larger than hers. If they were to hold hands, whomever the hand print belonged to would almost completely engulf hers.

Her eyes flicked along the trail, looking for more prints. A few feet away, there was the print of the toes of a boot. Not much further past that was the print of four fingers.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she realized what happened. Whoever's blood this was had dragged themselves away from her.

She couldn't form any words or make another sound – she was in too much shock.

That person was alive.

That person?

That person was her Bellamy.

Oh god.

Bellamy was alive.

Ignoring how the world swam around her, she stumbled to her feet. Somehow – and she would never know how – her legs were steady beneath her and kept her from falling back to the ground. She didn't get sick from the overwhelming nausea, nor did she pass out from the pounding in her head.

"Bellamy!" she called again, more hope and strength in her voice. Still, there was no response. How could he have dragged himself away from her, but not respond?

Nothing made sense any more. How could he have survived all of that radiation? She had Nightblood and it felt like she had been hit with an explosion – how had he survived?

Clarke thought back to her medical training on the Ark. The only reasonable explanation to his survival would be the development of his metabolism and how he processed radiation. He had spent most of his life on Factory Station where there were never full repairs. The citizens of the Ark that lived on this station were exposed to higher levels of radiation. Did this cause his body to adapt to handle high levels of radiation? Was this how he survived?

Honestly? She didn't care. All she cared about at that moment was making sure he was okay and making sure he stayed alive. Just because he was awake now did not mean he would survive the night. That was what her mother always told her – things became more evident during the first night.

Fear started to creep into the corners of her heart. What if he didn't survive? She tried to push those feelings away. She would not let the demons touch her – not until she knew for sure.

She stumbled forward, her legs moving sluggishly. Her feet wouldn't cooperate properly and were constantly being caught on the floor. Her knees wouldn't bend properly, nor would her hips move.

She felt like she was trying to walk with string for legs.

Clarke let out a groan and fell to the floor only a few steps away from where she woke up.

Damn it.

Come on, she begged in her head. Come on!

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out all of the pain she felt. The pain in her body from her injuries and the pain in her soul from her losses and failure.

Clarke needed to do this. She needed to find Bellamy.

She rolled back on to her hands and knees, ignoring the flashes of brilliant white light behind her eyelids. Inch my inch, she crawled towards the working desk. She wanted to move faster, but the fact that she was at least making some progress brought a sense of calmness to her.

She had to get to him.

There were too many times where she hadn't gone to him. Too damn many times to count.

When he was getting attacked by the Grounders outside of the dropship. He had been defending his people – their people – but was losing his battle quickly. She wanted desperately to go to him – to help him. But she didn't. Instead, Finn went. She lost two of her most important men that day.

When he had volunteered to go into Mount Weather – she didn't argue. She betrayed him there by not fighting for him. She betrayed him by allowing him to go. She didn't go to him there and admit she wouldn't want to lose him – instead, she sent him into battle. She failed him.

When he had fallen to Pike's influence, she let him struggle alone. She should have tried harder – she should have reached out more to him. But she let him suffer alone. She was too shamed and too embarrassed to fight for his forgiveness, but that was just an excuse. She didn't go to him then and she almost lost him for good.

But, damn it, she was going to go to him now, even if it was the last thing she did.

With new found strength, she used the edge of the desk to hoist herself into a standing position. Her legs shook beneath her, but she didn't slow down. As soon as she was upright, she was wobbling towards the end of the blood trail. She tripped over her own two feet and went tumbling into the corner of the desk.

The world tipped sideways in front of her. She gripped the edge of the desk tightly and clamped her mouth shut to keep from calling out. Her legs were struggling to keep her upright. Her side flared in pain from where her hip bashed into the desk.

But she could see him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his body laying on the ground. He was still wearing his protective suit – thank god. She could already feel the radiation impacting her body from being out of the protection of the suit. She couldn't imagine how he would be feeling.

He was rolled onto his side, his fists balled up and pressed into the ground. Like her helmet, his glass covering was covered in blood. The only difference between then was that his blood was still red. His back was covered in black soot with large chunks of ash glued to his elbows.

He wasn't moving. She couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

Damn it.

"No!" Clarke rasped out. She pushed herself off the wall and went flying into the room he was in. She landed on the ground roughly, knocking the wind out of her. She coughed violently, trying her best to catch her breath. "No!"

He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be.

Clarke scrambled over to him. She had a decision to make – take off his helmet and risk him getting worse with the increase of radiation, or not check his pulse and wait until he would wake up.

If he ever woke up.

That thought won her over. As she reached him, her hands flew to the pins that kept the helmet in place. She quickly undid them and ripped off his helmet. As soon as it rolled away, she was ripping off her gloves that covered her hands.

Screw it, she thought. She'd deal with the consequences after.

Her gloves went flying to the side, skidding across the ashy floor.

Without wasting another moment, her hands flew to his neck. Her two fingers pressed into the side and she held her breath as she waited.

There!

Relief flooded her system.

The pulse was weak. But it was there.

Thank god.

Just as she was going to remove her fingers from his neck, things took a turn for the worse. Where she felt his pulse moments before was left unmoving.

She couldn't feel anything.

Her heart fell back to her stomach. Where had his pulse gone?

She repositioned her hand, her fingers digging into his neck. She begged for a pulse to show up, no matter how weak it was.

Nothing.

Dread filled her system. Was she too late? Had she just witnessed the man she loved the most die in front of her?

"No!" Her heartbroken scream filled the lab. She took her shaky hand away from his neck, balling her fingers up into a fist. She wouldn't give up hope – not yet. She repositioned her fingers and waited.

Still, nothing.

"Damn it, Bellamy!" Clarke screamed. She removed her shaking hands, pressing them to her chest – almost as if she was trying to keep her heart from falling to pieces. "Damn it!" Despite trying to hold it back, she let a single sob bubble through her lips.

She felt like fate was cruel. How many people that she loved would have to die in her arms? She had witnessed her father's execution – she watched the life leave his eyes. She had stabbed Finn in the heart – she felt the life flow out of him. She held Lexa as she died – she saw her final breath.

And here she was again. A different person – a different death.

No.

Something was nagging in the back of her mind. This wasn't it. This wasn't the end. This wasn't supposed to happen.

She wanted desperately to believe the voice in her head, but the logical part of her brain refused to set herself up for more pain. Her heart cried out, begging for her to try something – anything. This wasn't the end.

Clarke let out a scream of frustration, curling her fingers into the palm of her hand so hard that the nails drew blood.

He was dead. He couldn't be dead. But his lifeless body was before her. He had no pulse. No air filled his chest. Blood did not pump through his veins.

He was gone.

Dead.

Clarke let out a scream of anguish.

This can't be it.

She refused to believe it.

Her mind was so conflicted – mourn him or try to save him? Was there hope to hold on to or was her too far gone?

His fight was not over yet. Her fight was not over yet.

Almost like a bucket of water, a memory hit her. It stilled her breathing and sent a chill up her spine.

Many months ago, Lincoln's heart had stopped. And she had started it again.

Her tears completely halted.

Lincoln had died when he was fighting to break free from the Reaper's drug. His heart had completely stopped. She watched the life leave his eyes. But that wasn't the end for him – he survived that. She had started his heart again; he had overcome the Reaper drug; he had survived.

She did it before – she could do it again.

She could do it again.

Clarke went numb as her new mission took her over. All of her emotions were pushed to the side – she didn't have time for them right now. All she cared about was saving him. She had to save him. He had been right there, but he had slipped through her fingers. She could save him.

Clarke glanced around the room wildly, praying that she would find what she needed. It was almost like those Greek Gods Bellamy was so fond of were listening because the thing she needed the most – a shock baton from the Guard – was laying across the room.

She didn't care how it got there. She didn't care who it belonged to. It could have been Miller's from when he was on the island for a brief period of time; it could have been something that Monty or Harper left behind as they boarded the spaceship; it could have been Bellamy's. She didn't care.

All she cared about was the fact that something had finally gone the way she wanted to on this damned planet.

Clarke grunted as she pulled herself to her feet. She cursed when she felt her knees shake under her. They weren't going to be able to support her weight for much longer. They wouldn't be able to take another step. Of course her body wasn't going to cooperate when she needed it most.

But she couldn't give up. He wouldn't give up if it was her on the floor – and she never would dream of doing so. This man was her best friend, her co-leader, the man she loved. And, damn it, she was going to save his life no matter what.

She could sense the time ticking by. Sweat collected on the back of her neck, gluing her hair to her skin. Her legs shook from exhaustion. Her body screamed in protest.

But she was doing it.

With a groan, Clarke threw her body weight towards the counter that ran along the wall. Miraculously, her fingers hooked onto the edge and she managed to keep upright.

One step closer.

Clarke steadied herself before repeating the process. Her body slammed violently into the edge of the counter this time – she knew she was going to be bruised after this.

But, if she was being honest, it would be more significant to state where she wasn't going to be bruised rather than where she was going to be.

She grew closer and closer to the baton against the doorframe.

Please let this work.

Her fingers curled around the cool metal. She snatched the object tightly in her hand, pressing it close to her chest. This was her saviour and she was never letting go.

She spun on her heel, the time ticking down. If she was going to save him, she had to do it soon. Knowing this, she took the risk of more injuries and threw herself towards his body. She skidded across the floor, her knees screaming in pain from slamming into the unforgiving tile beneath her.

Something was definitely broken.

She gritted her teeth and shifted her weight off her injury. Clarke pressed the power button on the baton and, to her relief, electricity began to crackle around it.

She glanced towards Bellamy's body. His lips were parted slightly and his eyes were closed. If she didn't know any better, she would say that he looked like a young boy. Despite his injuries, he looked peaceful – like he was sleeping the night away.

She knew different.

His lips were turning blue. His cheeks were an eerie white. His eyes already looked sunken into his head. He looked dead. He was dead.

Without a moment of hesitation, Clarke snapped the baton against his chest. His body jerked upwards. She held it for a brief moment before removing the baton. She searched his face – paying close attention to his mouth.

He still wasn't breathing.

Clarke snarled and pressed the baton against his chest again. The same result happened – his muscles tightened and his body jerked rapidly.

Please work.

She removed the baton, but there still wasn't any sign on life.

She was starting to lose hope.

"Come on, Bell!" she screamed. "Wake up! Wake up!" With her last spark of determination, she slammed the baton onto his body.

His eyes flew open and he sputtered for air. His eyes searched the ceiling wildly and his hands were clenched tightly into fists.

"Yes!" Clarke threw the baton to the ground. For a moment, she was too shocked to move. Then she lunged towards the man on the floor, a laughing bubbling from her lips. "Yes! Oh thank god. Thank the gods. Oh god. Oh god. Bellamy!" Clarke didn't know when it happened, but tears had begun to stream down her face. Her vison swam and her hands shook.

She wrapped her fingers tightly around the material that covered his forearm. She couldn't believe it. It had worked. He was alive.

Bellamy was alive.

Clarke choked on a sob.

Her hand moved from his arm to his neck. Almost as if she couldn't believe the result that she seen right in front of her, she checked his pulse. She pressed her two fingers into his neck and waited with baited breath.

She couldn't hold back the sob of relief when she felt his pulse beneath her fingers. It was strong, steady, and the most amazing thing she had felt in her life.

"Bellamy," she sobbed out. Her fingers brushed lightly against his jaw. His eyes blinked rapidly before turning towards her. Brown met grey. Realization flooded his eyes and a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Cla-?" His hand lifted up jerkily, trying to reach for her. He was still weak from his injuries, so his hand only twitched. Without a second thought, Clarke reached for his hand.

Just like in Polis months ago, her hand tangled with his. Back then, he was bringing reassurance to her. Now, it was the opposite. She gripped his hand tightly in hers and hoped that her touch brought as much comfort to him as it did to her.

"Clar…" He struggled to get his mouth to form words. If he felt anything like her, Clarke knew that he would struggle to speak over the pain. She couldn't imagine the damage that was done to their bodies from Praimfaya.

"I'm here." She wrapped her other hand around their clasped ones, engulfing his with hers. "I'm here." His hand tightened around hers, acknowledging that he heard her. As soon as his gloved hand wrapped around hers, she broke down sobbing.

She couldn't believe what was happening.

Moments ago, she could have sworn that she would never feel his touch again. She didn't think she would ever be able to hold his hand, feel his pulse, see the spark of life in his eyes, or hear his voice again. She could have sworn he was dead. He was dead for a while.

Just the thought of living in a world without Bellamy brought another wave of tears. It's okay, she reminded herself. I saved him. He's okay.

Clarke blinked rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes. She needed to see him clearly to heal the ache in her chest. She needed to see him without tears to reassure herself that she had done it – that he was alive.

"Clarke." His voice was raspy, but still carried a certain amount of tenderness. She smiled and inched towards him.

"I love you." The words were out her mouth faster than she could contemplate them. Why would she? She knew that her heart belonged to him. She knew that she had somehow fallen for the rebel king during the last several months. She knew and she wasn't afraid to say it anymore. "Oh, god, Bellamy," the words were tumbling out of her mouth. "I love you." The second time those words left her mouth, they carried more strength and confidence. It was true. She wasn't afraid of those words anymore – not as much as she was of losing him before he knew.

"I know." His voice was weak, but it still carried the same amount of passion. A lopsided grin was on his face. "I know, Clarke. I love you, too."

Without a moment of hesitation, she swooped down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was almost like his lips stilled everything else in her life. She wasn't thinking about their survival, nor was she thinking about the weight of the world. All she was thinking about was him. Their contact was brief but the message was permanent.

I love you.

I'm here.

We're together.

We survived.

Thank you for reading! I hope I managed to stay true to the original fic and provide some closure to all of you (is closure the right word? You know what I mean).

If you're interested, I have a bunch more Bellarke fics that you can find by clicking on my profile! I'm always looking for new readers and some feedback!

Leave a review for me here! I'm always looking for your feedback. It's so great (and such a motivation) to hear what you guys have to say about my work.

Until next time,

Paw