Work Text:
The sickness was spreading through the camp. Bellamy watched as it descended into chaos. Blood was pouring from his people’s faces left and right, and guns were pointed at those infected. It was quickly becoming overwhelming and he didn't know if he could control the delinquents this time. Bellamy was busy trying to control the crowd, so when the sound of gunshots startled him, he immediately turned around, assuming that an idiot kid got a little trigger-happy. To say he was a little surprised to find Clarke holding a rifle in the air, a no-nonsense expression on her face, was an understatement. He may have still been pissed at her for sending Octavia out of the camp, but Bellamy couldn't deny that he was in awe of her. She looked like death— the virus was progressing quickly through her body, but it didn’t seem to affect her. Bellamy had never seen her look more beautiful and shit Blake where the hell did that come from? Before Bellamy had time to process that thought, or yell at Clarke for being up when she so obviously needed rest, some kid started pointing his gun at her, and Bellamy saw red. Without thinking, he ripped the gun out of the kid’s hand and hit him in the neck.
“Not to state the obvious, but your quarantine isn't working.” The asshole comment was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Before he could backtrack and apologise for being a dick again (she was sick for God’s sake!), he noticed her balance waver, and before he could think about the consequences, he was rushing to catch her before she fell. He vaguely acknowledged that Finn was also moving toward Clarke, and he could Raven yelling at Finn not to touch her, but nothing deterred him from catching Clarke. Once she was gathered in his arms, the first thing he thought was about how small she looked there. Clarke usually looks strong and imposing, regardless of her smaller stature, but now, feverish and on the edge of unconsciousness, she looked every bit the seventeen year old girl that she was.
Octavia rushed over to him and brought him out of his thoughts. She told them all of the sickness, the lack of cure and the impending attack. Bellamy made a half-hearted attempt at scolding his sister for visiting the grounder again, and Octavia seemed to notice his split attention, and turned hers toward Clarke. “Come on. I’ll help you get Clarke into the dropship.” Bellamy could her the concern evident in his sister’s voice.
When they entered the dropship, Murphy offered his hammock to them for Clarke, much to Bellamy’s surprise. Pushed away from the hammock by the others, Bellamy watched as Murphy and Octavia swarmed Clarke, while she tried to get them to help the others. He was at a loss as to what to do, he’d never seen her look so weak in all the time they’d been on the ground, and he found it disconcerting. Part of his mind realized that he should probably be outside, focused on the upcoming battle and trying to save their people, but he was overwhelmed with worry for Clarke.
Bellamy finally responded when he heard his name being called weakly. He looked over to where Clarke was resting and found her alone and watching him. He walked over to her and stood by her head. She looked up at him. “You need to save yourselves. Just leave camp. Take anyone healthy enough with you.” Bellamy looked at the sick girl below him incredulously. “Is the virus making you delusional, Princess? If you think I'm going to leave you and the others here defenceless then you aren't as smart as you think you are.” He snarked back at her. A familiar fierce expression overcame her face as she said, “I'm serious Bellamy, you’re best chance at surviving is to leave us here and save yourselves.”
“Well, I guess it’s too bad that I don’t take orders from you, huh, Clarke?” Bellamy retorted, and she just glared at him until Murphy came back to check on her.
Not having anything to do for now, but being confined to the dropship, Bellamy sauntered over to the door, and called for Miller, telling him that he was in charge of keeping order while Bellamy was in quarantine. After an affirmation from the younger boy, Bellamy walked back over to Clarke, who was now asleep. He pulled up a chair beside her sleeping form to watch over her.
With nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, Bellamy wondered when he had come to care so much for his blonde co-leader. He knew that after Atom, he had come to respect her, and that he admitted that she wasn't the spoiled, rich girl that he’d thought she was. Maybe it was then. He knew he was already in deep after they tortured the grounder, and even deeper when they found the guns in the bunker and she told him that she needed him. He leaned over her, and as he brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over her face, he whispered, “I need you too, Clarke.”