ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ : ɪ ᴀᴍ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ
⋆

After stuffing her face with berries and nuts and taking a much needed power-nap, Clara checks in with Clarke. The blonde has already gotten over her illness, so she was ready to help. She stitches up her side again and spreads some home-made cream made from the red seaweed in the nearby river on her burns before wrapping it up. She also disinfects the cut on her arm before it also gets infected, and soon enough, Clara is good to go by her standards.

It is still very painful to walk—or move, really—but she slowly makes her way into the drop ship where the last of the sick kids are quarantined. She immediately finds the boy she's looking for and limps over to him.

Bellamy is just waking up, his mouth and nose crusted with blood. His face is ghostly pale, making his dark freckles much more prominent. Murphy notices Bellamy stirring and walks over with a cup of water. Clara smiles at the sight of Murphy. She may not particularly like him, but she has to admit, it's nice to see him alive.

"Here," Murphy says, leaning down and handing Bellamy the cup.

Bellamy's eyes glare daggers at the boy. He sits up and shoves him away. "Get the hell away from me."

Murphy sighs, annoyed. "Bellamy, you're sick, okay? I'm just trying to help." He offers the cup again. "Here."

"When I get better, if you're still here—" Before Bellamy can finish his threat, Clara finally approaches the boys.

She takes the cup from Murphy and says, "I'll handle him, thanks."

Murphy's eyes soften on her. He nods, then comments, "It's nice to see you alive."

"You too," she replies, smiling kindly.

Murphy gives Bellamy one last glance before turning and walking away to help the others. Clara sits beside Bellamy and extends her arm with the cup.

"Here."

Bellamy's eyes linger on her before he take the water from her. He takes a sip, then turns to the side to cough. It's a horrible sound that must hurt his throat. Bellamy cringes at the blood on the inside of his elbow.

"You shouldn't be in here," he says, voice hoarse.

"I'll be fine, Clarke thinks I'm immune." Clara takes the cup back after Bellamy takes another sip. She sets it aside. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Bellamy replies, but then coughs into his elbow again. Clara frowns and reaches out, rubbing his back gently. When he's done, he takes a deep breath and wipes off the blood around his lips. His bloodshot eyes flicker to Murphy aiding the other sick kids. "So, you trust him now?"

Clara looks back at Murphy. He looks much better than when she last saw him. His face isn't all bloody, and he can actually take a few steps without collapsing. When she turns back to Bellamy, she says, "We shared a cell for a little while; it makes a person grow on you a little, I guess. The last I'd heard of him, he was screaming so much I thought he had died when the grounders didn't bring him back."

Bellamy sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly. "How about you?" When Clara gives him a questioning gaze, he clarifies, "How are you feeling? Have you gotten something to eat yet?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good," Clara assures with a small smile. "Clarke fixed me up, as you can see." She carefully raises her arm with bandages wrapped around her bicep and shoulder. Bellamy nods and studies her, as of he's just making sure that she's actually okay and not about to crumple to the floor. Clara notices his worry and changes the topic. "I never got to thank you for coming to get me, even if it meant talking to Lincoln."

"You would have done the same," Bellamy replies, looking away. "Actually, you probably would have done something sooner. I'm sorry I didn't come get you as soon as I found out you were gone."

"You had other responsibilities, you're a leader here, I understand," she speaks softly. "And it's not like you knew where I was until Murphy told you. So, thank you."

Bellamy reluctantly accepts her thanks. He opens his mouth, about to say more, but then a loud boom! shakes the drop ship. Clara falls back, catching herself with her non-injured arm. Bellamy takes her hand and helps her to her feet as everyone hurries to see what's going on outside.

When the sunlight hits Clara's face, she squints to see past the wall of trees. Over the tree tops in the distance is a pillar of black smoke billowing in the air.

Clarke makes an appearance beside Bellamy. Without looking at her, he says with gleeful shock, "They did it."

Clarke smiles. "I am become death, destroyer of worlds." Clara and Bellamy look down at the blonde. She glances at them, then says, "It's Oppenheimer, the man who built the first—"

Bellamy and Clara simultaneously reply, "I know who Oppenheimer is."

★

With everyone coming down from their illness, the next day is full of healing and regrouping. Some kids are still training to use their guns while others who already learned are guarding on the walls. Raven has been busy with splitting the gunpowder of bullets to use as much gunpowder as possible. Jasper has been in her tent helping a lot, and, naturally, Monty and Rez hang out in there as well. Finn drops by occasionally, but things have noticeably been rocky between him and the mechanic.

The explosion at the bridge must've bought the delinquents more time than they thought. There's not a trace of grounders, but Bellamy still makes sure that the shooters at the walls are always prepared, of course. Letting their guard down is too risky.

Clara wakes up around mid-day in Bellamy's tent. At first she's confused why she isn't in the one she shares with Octavia, but then she remembers she was talking with Bellamy the night before and fell asleep on his cot. She looks around and notices that a blanket is on the ground where he must've slept.

As Clara carefully sits up and leans over the side of the bed to grab her boots, the tent opens and Bellamy pokes his head in. His eyes land on Clara. He smiles.

"Hey, you're awake."

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" Clara asks, slipping her feet into the boots and tying them.

Bellamy steps all the way in. Clara notices the gun slung over his shoulder.

"I figured you could use the rest," he replies with a small shrug.

With Bellamy's eyes following her, Clara cautiously pushes herself up to her feet. The pain in her middle isn't extreme, just uncomfortable. When she stands the blanket falls off her body so the chilly air hits her bare arms. She grabs her jacket and puts one arm in, leaving the burned one out.

"Sorry I took your bed last night," Clara says, glancing down at the blanket on the floor. "You know you didn't have to sleep on the ground, right?"

"It's fine, didn't want to make you uncomfortable," Bellamy replies thoughtfully. "I don't really know where the boundaries are between us."

Clara's eyes flicker up to meet his as she adjusts the collar of her jacket. She doesn't know how to take his statement, unsure of what he means exactly. Fighting off a blush, she says, "Well, for future reference, if I take your bed again, you don't have to take the floor. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground sucks."

Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest. Raising his brow, he teases, "So you want me to sleep with you?"

Forget Clara's attempt at not blushing. She couldn't hide it if she tried.

"You know what I mean!" Clara exclaims, embarrassed. When Bellamy tilts his head innocently, she groans. "I'm leaving."

She goes to walk around Bellamy. When she's right beside him, he reaches out and takes her uninjured arm in his hand.

"I know what you mean, you're just cute when you're flustered," he tells her with a playful smile as he lets go of her arm.

Clara tries not to dwell too much on his words, feeling butterflies swarming in her stomach. However, with Bellamy looking down at her, her mind can't move on from what he said. She's taking his words too literally, he doesn't actually think she's cute, right?

"Okay," Clara coughs. "I'm going to go find Rez."

Bellamy obviously finds her reaction amusing. He throws his thumb over his shoulder and says, "He's in Raven's tent."

Clara quietly thanks him before ducking out of his tent, headed towards Raven's; however, she gets distracted on her way.

Her eyes land on Murphy as he approaches another camper struggling to hold a pile of lumber. Murphy offers to help, but the boy roughly shoulder-checks him, muttering, "Get the hell away from me, traitor."

The boy leaves Murphy with a dejected look on his face. He sighs and starts to walk away, and that's when Clara redirects her path and heads towards the brunet instead of Raven's tent.

"Hey, Murph," Clara calls out as she nears him. Her steps are still slower than usual so she doesn't tear the stitches in her abdomen, so Murphy meets her in the middle. When they stop a few feet apart, Clara takes the time to quickly examine him from head-to-toe. It's weird seeing him not close to death. "What have you been up to?"

Murphy shrugs, his eyes narrowed on her suspiciously. "Not a lot, why?"

"Just making conversation," Clara replies.

Murphy's cold state drops. His shoulders relax and he suddenly doesn't look so dejected anymore. "Oh."

Clara frowns. His reaction proves that the boy who shoved him wasn't the first to brush Murphy off since his arrival. She knows he was banished, but he was tortured by the grounders and doesn't seem like a bad person anymore. He helped the sick and is still trying to right his wrongs; he deserves a second chance.

"I was about to go grab lunch, have you eaten yet?" Clara asks

Murphy looks at her in surprise. "I haven't, no."

"Well, come on then." Clara doesn't wait for Murphy and starts walking towards the food. It takes a moment for Murphy to move his feet, but he catches up with the slow girl almost immediately.

When they reach the tent with nuts, berries, and fresh meat laid out, Clara's stomach growls. She didn't realize she was hungry until after seeing the food. She grabs a metal plate and serves herself her rations.

Murphy hesitates before doing the same. He glances at Clara warily. "Either you're the only person in this camp who doesn't want me dead, or you're just really good at hiding it."

Clara lets out a small laugh. "I'm sure I'm not the only one, doesn't Clarke trust you now?"

Murphy shrugs, setting some berries on his plate. "I don't know, I didn't think she did."

"Hm." Clara turns to Murphy with a thoughtful gaze. "Some people aren't that good at moving on." She pops a berry from her plate into her mouth. "Bygones."

She walks past him, her shoulder just barely missing his. He turns and follows her out of the tent, repeating quietly, "Bygones."

Outside, Clara and Murphy sit down on two logs facing each other with an unlit fire pit in the middle. They chow down on their small rations while making small talk, most of it coming from Clara's side. She tries to make up for the lack of kindness the other delinquents are denying Murphy by simply being friendly.

When there's a small break in conversation after the two are finished eating, Murphy's eyes flicker slightly above Clara's shoulder at something behind her. He scoffs, a smirk tugging on his thin lips as he looks down at his empty plate.

Clara's brow furrows and she asks, "What?" She turns and sees for herself. She doesn't catch anyone's eyes, but she does spot Bellamy from across camp, suspiciously looking very interested in the tree beside him as he picks at the bark.

Turning back, Murphy remarks, "Why do you even bother with Bellamy?"

Clara frowns. "What do you mean?"

"He's such a hard-ass and he's so full of himself," Murphy explains, making Clara's frown deepen. "And you're like . . . a flower? I don't know, I just feel like you two are polar opposites."

"You don't know Bellamy, then," Clara replies defensively.

Murphy subtly rolls his eyes. "I'm not trying to insult you or Bellamy, Clara. It's just that Bellamy is a leader, and you're kind of in the background—he wants to see my head on a stick, and you are talking to me like an actual person."

Clara opens her mouth to respond, but she can't bring herself to for some reason. Some of what Murphy had said is right, but he makes it sound like she's a saint and Bellamy's an awful person, which couldn't be further from the truth.

Murphy stands before Clara can respond. He brushes himself off and says, "See you around, flower."

He turns and walks away, leaving Clara sitting on the log by herself. She sits there for a while, mulling over their conversation, before standing as well. She wipes off her plate before returning it to the food tent.

Stepping outside the tent, Clara almost runs right into Bellamy's chest. She barely has time to step back an inch and look up before he says, "I thought you were going to go see Rez, not have lunch with Murphy."

Clara's brow knits together. "I'm sorry I got hungry?" She studies his hard stare and asks, "Why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad," Bellamy denies, which is debatable. "Why are you being so nice to him? Did you forget what he did to Charlotte?"

"Did you forget what Charlotte did to me, and what she did to Wells? Did you forget that you kicked the bucket from under Murphy's feet?" Clara fires back. Bellamy averts his eyes and licks his chapped lips. She sighs. "I'm just giving him a second chance."

"You're being naïve."

"I'm being nice," Clara corrects. Not wanting to further the argument, she turns and walks towards Raven's tent like she originally planned.