AN: I'm back! I'm so sorry this took forever to get out. Honestly, I have been so caught up in life that I forgot I had readers that wanted to read another chapter. So here you go! I will try to update more frequently. :)

Chapter Eleven

"There is no remedy to love but to love more." – Thoreau

Clarke has decided that maybe she's better off forgetting about her parents. After all, she certainly wouldn't see them again. So, she pushes the thought of her parents, who are nothing but blurry figures in dreams, aside.

She doesn't need them to survive on earth. So maybe it's better not to know. When you don't remember, you can't get hurt.

Clarke may not need her parents on earth, but she does need her co-leader, that annoyingly absent alpha male. She's spent her time in the med bay with her patients, and somehow she hasn't even talked to him in five days.

At least, she hasn't really talked to him in five days. He tells her the simple things when they run into each other, and he seems all too eager to get away. He tells her that he's sorry for slamming into her, and then he walks away, leaving her behind.

And it hurts.

Bellamy doesn't bring her the orange blanket anymore; it's lying folded neatly in his tent. Not like she checked. But she feels his absence like a sharp pang in her chest, something that she only misses when it's gone.

And surely Bellamy must be gone forever.

She enters his tent in the dead of night one day, completely fed up. What has she done? Because she needs him. Because the man has told her something, something that she needs Bellamy for.

She didn't really expect him to be asleep, but she is still surprised to see him sitting cross legged on the ground, a knife and a piece of wood in hand.

"Clarke!" Bellamy looks up, surprised that she has barged in without asking to come in. "You scared me." He blinks and cringes at the words, like he's remembering something. "Did you need something?"

Bellamy continues whittling, and lets the curls of wood fall gently to the dust.

"I'm tired of this," Clarke says at last, surprised at how blatantly he is ignoring her. "And I need your help."

Bellamy does nothing but shake his head and blink once—twice. The knife scrapes against the wood. He doesn't respond.

So Clarke plops down next to him and glares, and it's the same fiery glare she gave him all those days ago, when they stood next to the fire and screamed. "I need your help, Bellamy."

The knife clatters to the floor, and Clarke notices for the first time just how much his hands are shaking. Clarke resists the urge to take them in her own. Now is not the time.

"Where have you been?" She asks him, and she can't help seeing all too clearly the orange blanket folded in the corner. Its been pushed aside.

She's been pushed aside.

Bellamy follows her gaze and stares with her for a while at the orange fleece. He sighs, and at last speaks. "Busy."

Clarke curses, and the words aren't fit for a princess.

Bellamy sighs, and Clarke realizes that he must know what she wants. "I'm sorry. What did you need?"

Clarke glares, even though he's apologized, and Bellamy isn't one for apologies. "That's just it. You don't know."

Bellamy blinks. "What happened?" And now he sounds actually worried, actually scared.

But Clarke is angry. She is angry that she has been ignored, and that he doesn't know what's going on in camp. "Do you know what I've been doing the past few days?" Her tone is accusatory. The words will hurt.

Bellamy visibly cringes, but stays silent. He doesn't know.

"I've been in the med bay. With twelve through twenty. The next marked."

Silence. And then. "Twelve through twenty," Bellamy repeats.

"I'm trying to keep them alive, but I don't know how much longer they can hold on." Clarke pauses, her voice shaky. "They're going to die, Bellamy. We're going to have twenty graves out there."

Her voice is shaky, and she is being so weak, but Bellamy barely notices. He can barely look at her. He must be so angry. He must hate her. Truly, he must.

"No more," Bellamy says at last, when Clarke begins to turn away. "No more will die." He blinks hard and clenches his jaw. He looks at her, and Clarke swears that he can see her fear.

Her weakness.

Clarke shakes her head. "No," she says, agreeing. "I'm going to meet him."

Fear crawls over Bellamy's face, and it's a strange thing to see on him. It takes her a moment to recognize it. He hasn't been afraid around her before. "Don't you dare," he says harshly.

Clarke would be lying if she said she didn't consider staying, for him. For all that he has done for her. But this is earth, and earth is a trembling girl wrapped in a terribly cheerful orange blanket.

A hell wrapped in a façade of heaven.

"How can you want me to stay? Bellamy, I got us into this, and I'm going to get us out."

Bellamy is relentless. "No, Clarke," he tells her. "You won't be going anywhere."

"I will be going, Bellamy. And you can't stop me. You've been trying so hard to be rid of me these past few days. So don't you tell me I'm not allowed to do you the favor myself."

"Clarke—"

"I'm going to go, Bellamy, and I swear, if anyone comes after me, I won't come back." It's a threat she makes half-heartedly, but Bellamy has to know that she is being serious. That she has to do this alone.

"Just let me come with you, princess. I can help." And Bellamy is begging, and he is calling her princess again, so gently. His eyes are deep, and how Clarke would love to lose herself in them.

But this is earth, and earth is a tragedy. The blanket is folded in a corner. Clarke can feel something coming to a close. Whether it be her memories or not, something is coming to an end.

Clarke shakes her head and turns her head to the side, away from him. So she won't see the deepness in his eyes, the sorrow that she can feel radiating from him. "I don't take orders from you, Bellamy. You aren't coming."

And she thinks that she has won. She thinks that he has given up. But Bellamy stops her when she is turning away and exiting his tent.

Because there is something in his voice that makes her halt. Something that sounds like an apology, like a request, and like the ending of joy. "Clarke," he says, his voice quivering with emotion, "I can't lose you too."

You already have, she wants to say. She knows its what she should say. She should open the tent, and she should leave.

She should hurt him, so that he wouldn't miss her when she's gone. So that it would be easier to forget her, to hate her.

But something in her heart makes her say the words for her, before her mind even realizes it. "Then come with me."

He does.

AN: I hope you liked it!

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