I'm Not Going Anywhere

I'll Always Be Here

Bellamy missed Clarke.

Perhaps it wasn't fair to miss her, considering he'd just seen her a few hours ago, but he did. After all the time they spent together when he first got sick, he'd gotten used to the luxury of her presence being a constant; he'd forgotten what it was like to wait for her, to try to do something else when all he seemed capable of was daydreaming about her.

It would be better, he thought, if he were allowed to actually do something. But he was still not cleared to leave – his health was rocky, and some of the burns he'd gained in the first bout of black rain hadn't healed properly – and that meant every day was spent without responsibility, away from danger, and properly taken care of.

He hated it.

The fight against the reactors was in full force, and for the first time since he'd been on the ground, Bellamy was not on the front lines. His people were out there risking their lives, doing whatever it took, and if he were anything more than a coward he'd be out there with them, medical clearance or not—

"Bellamy?"

He turned wearily and managed to give Jackson a small lift at the corners of his mouth. "Hey."

"Feeling any different today?" he asked, and Bellamy frowned.

"Isn't Clarke supposed to do all my check-ups?"

For some reason, this amused Jackson highly. (Whether Bellamy knew the reason, or whether his cheeks flamed pathetically at it, was highly irrelevant.) "She got caught up in another meeting. Said she would've liked to be here, though."

Bellamy managed not to smile, barely. "All right. Well, the burns aren't hurting, and I haven't thrown up or coughed up blood in at least fourteen hours, which is a record."

"Nice to hear," Jackson said. "Are you still eating well? Drinking as much as you're allowed?"

He had not, in fact, done either of those things – he couldn't stomach any food, and water was needed for more important matters – but if Clarke knew, she would definitely flay him alive. And Jackson told Clarke everything. So he just muttered, "Fine."

Jackson quickly scanned for Bellamy vitals, declared him good to go – but not out of the med bay, Bellamy added bitterly – and left to help the many other patients. Jackson was doing well, Bellamy thought. He'd essentially become the only doctor with Abby and Clarke needed in more diplomatic matters, and it was a weight he bore well, without complaint or scorn or distaste.

It was approximately three hours and eighteen minutes later when Clarke finally came. She looked exhausted to the core, and he felt his heart throb painfully at the sight of her so threadbare. "You okay?" he asked, starting to stand.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shoved him back down, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yeah." She leaned on the edge of the bed opposite Bellamy's, her knees brushing his, and said, "How about you? Any better?"

"There wasn't any bad news today, was there?" he pressed.

Clarke sighed heavily, and he sensed a weight behind her eyes. "What news isn't bad news, these days? But...nothing I want to talk about. Not yet." She paused heavily and Bellamy waited, as he always did, for her to sort through her thoughts. "Just another day of meetings, right?"

Bellamy's face darkened. "I should be in them with you."

"Not this again, Bellamy, please," Clarke said tiredly. "No one needs you getting worse because I dragged you along to meetings I can inform you of, and you're doing enough already."