Bellamy's nerves felt raw.

Not that he'd really had the opportunity to relax since the night before when Clarke had brokered their peace with the grounders.

Brokered. He resisted the urge to shudder. She'd paid for their peace – and not just with Finn's life.

She was still paying for their peace. He could tell, in the way that her vacant eyes stared at what wasn't there, the way she absently still scrubbed at her hands even though they were not clean.

If he was being honest, he was surprised she was still standing. He'd been by her all day, watching, waiting for her to crumple, ready to catch her when she did.

But she never did. Maybe it was the shock, or maybe she was waiting until she was alone.

A pang ran down his spine and heat curled in his stomach. He didn't want her to have to be alone when she finally collapsed in on herself like a dying star. The idea of her knees giving out as sobs wracked her body made his arms tingle.

I can't lose you, too.

Hadn't she realized by now he wasn't going anywhere?

Bellamy snapped out of his reverie as Lexa began her address, a mirror of Clarke, their goblets raised to each other across the table. His eyes bored into the side of the commanders face while she spoke, hating her for making Clarke stand across the table from the woman who had ordered Finn's death, for taking Raven's family from her, for taking his friend from him.

His lip curled as he watched Gustus take Lexa's cup and take a sip before handing it back to his commander. Finn died for the peace he had always strived for, the one he'd been too stubborn to work for as well, and they acted like his life meant nothing to them, like it was worth throwing away to take a stab at assassinating Lexa.

Bellamy listened to her finish her speech, trying to quell the anger that had sprung up at the slightest provocation. Clarke wasn't the only one grieving.

Gustus lurched forward, interrupting Clarke and Lexa as they began to raise their cups to drink. White foam frothed on his lips as they began to turn blue.

Lexa threw her cup away from her as the table between them was wrenched out of the way. Steel grated on steel as the grounders drew their swords while their people stood there, stunned.

Clarke.

Turning, Bellamy lunged, knocking the goblet out of Clarke's hand while everyone began to realize what he had already figured out.

Someone had tried to kill Lexa – with poison that was in both their drinks.

Throwing his arm out, Bellamy stepped in front of Clarke as the grounder's swords drew closer, thirsting for vengeance for the attempt on their commanders' life. He felt Clarke pushing against his back, trying to understand what had happened, then frantically denying it was them when she did.

"It wasn't us, Lexa," Clarke yelled as Bellamy struggled to keep her back. "You have to believe us!"

Bellamy stumbled has the pressure at his back disappeared. Whipping around, he saw one grounder had Clarke by the arms and that another was searching her pockets. Gritting his teeth, he tensed to launch himself at them but was stopped by two more grounders searching him as well.

"Commander!"

Bellamy's head snapped up as the grounder that had been searching Clarke held something up. He recognized the tiny vial of poison, now empty, that had been in Lincoln's pack. The grounder brought it forward, presenting it to Lexa.

"It's not mine!" Clarke insisted, straining against the grounder that held her. "It was planted on me when we searched at the door. You have to believe me Lexa, I didn't do this!"

Bellamy watched, fists clenched as Lexa slowly approached Clarke. She looked like Death, but he knew if he acted, they'd have no chance. It would be a slaughter.

The commander said something to Clarke to quiet for the rest of them to hear. Her eyes searched Clarke's face, and Bellamy saw Clarke mentally crumble.

Lexa turned from Clarke and surveyed them all.

"No sky person leaves this room!" she roared. The commander swept toward the door, her people behind her.

Lincoln stepped forward, speaking in Trigdasleng. Bellamy watched the exchange as Indra paused to listen. She responded with a curl of her lip and slammed the door behind her. She may as well have sunk her sword into Lincoln's gut and twisted.

Silence reigned in the room, the ringing of the slamming door still echoing in his head. Octavia broke the spell, drifting to a corner with Lincoln to dissect the turn of events. Bellamy began to reach for Clarke, but whatever chink he'd thought he'd seen in her armor when Lexa was talking to her had disappeared now.

She had moved, approaching Raven. He knew as he watched that she didn't need him right now. Right now, she knew what she was doing, had a plan, had something to do. It would be later, when she had exhausted all her options, when she didn't know what to do next, she would need him.

Turning, Bellamy leaned against a wall and sank down until he was sitting. He was so tired. So tired. Being strong for Clarke. For Octavia. For Raven.

No longer distracted, Bellamy could feel Finn's absence as well. And there was no denying the fact that he had been right the entire time. Maybe if they'd listened – if he'd listened – Finn would be here now, trying to help figure this out, supporting Clarke better than he ever could, because she had always let Finn in in a way she'd never let him in. Until that morning.

I can't lose you, too.

Bellamy's head jerked up as a crack echoed throughout the room. Clarke was holding her jaw and Raven's hand was still fisted at her side.

"The only murderer here is you," Raven snapped. Abby gathered Clarke into her arms and lead her away as Raven sank back down into her own seat. Bellamy's eyes flicked to Clarke, but her mother was taking care of her now. He turned back to Raven and watched her angrily swipe the tears from her eyes before massaging her knuckles.

He hadn't even realized he'd rocked forward into a crouch, prepared to intervene until he actually stood up. Raven didn't look up as he sat down on the bench beside her and took her punching hand. She let him examine the knuckles before gently replacing her hand on her lap.

"Well, it doesn't look broken," he said, trying to take the edge off, "But it'll hurt like a bitch for a couple days."

"If we live that long," Raven muttered, but she didn't look like she truly cared either way.

"We'll figure something out," Bellamy said quietly.

"Whatever."

"He would have wanted you to care, Raven," Bellamy murmured, "Whether you live or die. About what's coming next. About surviving."

"We slept together once," Raven snapped, abruptly standing. "That doesn't make you my boyfriend, and I sure as hell don't need you telling me what Finn would have wanted."

Bellamy pressed his lips together as she stalked off, making a mental note to keep an eye on her. It wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd have to do: Raven had always seemed unbreakable. Even when Finn had left her, she'd adapted much more quickly than he thought she would.

But not this time.

Every head in the room turned as the door open and Indra reappeared with two grounders in tow.

"Clarke Griffin." The two grounders each grabbed a hold of Clarke and began escorting her from the room. "You have been accused. When you are dead, so is the alliance."

Clarke stared, her eyes wide and glassy as she passed them. Her lips moved, but she couldn't seem to take a deep enough breath to make a sound. Their eyes locked, and even though she couldn't say it, he still heard it.

Bellamy.

Bellamy was only half aware that he had stood up; the not-stunned part of his brain was running various scenarios, simultaneously considering and rejecting plans of action. He was about to settle for the direct approach when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Turning, he saw Lincoln behind him, with Octavia beside him, shaking her head.

"No." Abby staggered after her daughter, but Indra's sword stopped her.

"You're lucky. I argued that every sky person should die." Indra tilted the sword, letting the sparse light glint off the metal. "If I were you, I would run."

Sheathing her sword, Indra swept through the door Clarke had disappeared through moments before.

It took a moment for them to realize the door had been left open. The grounders had meant what they'd said: only Clarke would pay for what happened today.

Except she hadn't done anything but try to make peace.

Abby was first through the door, followed by Kane. Bellamy was next, still trying to process how things had gone horribly wrong.

And then he decided it didn't matter.

He let his guard training take over, allowed himself to rely on the instincts that told him to assess and react. He could figure out who tried to kill Lexa later, but it wouldn't matter if Clarke was dead.

And if Clarke was dead, he'd probably try to kill Lexa with his bare hands instead anyway.

Blinking as he stepped into the sun, Bellamy saw Clarke had already been lashed to a pole in the middle of the town, her arms over her head. Her jacket had been removed, leaving her arms bare and exposed.

"Blood will be answered with justice," Lexa declared, her knife drawn. He could see the commander, just a foot away from Clarke, her knife in her hand.

"Lexa, I didn't do it," Clarke insisted. "How is that justice?"

"The vial says you did," Lexa said. "This is the way it is."

Bellamy watched as the knife got closer and closer's to Clarke's skin. Damn it.

He should have kept something on him when they'd tried to take their weapons. He should have insisted, he should have been clever about it, he should have tried harder.

Lexa's knife bit into Clarke's skin and tore a scream from her throat.

And with Clarke's scream came clarity.

I can't lose you, too.

But he couldn't lose her, either.

"I did it."

Bellamy's voice rang loud and clear throughout the clearing, unmistakable. He felt Octavia start beside him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, grabbing onto his sleeve. "Bell, don't!"

"I have to," he said without looking at her. "We need her."

"I need you," Octavia said. She tugged on his sleeve, trying to get him to look at her. But Bellamy couldn't look away from Clarke's blood running down her arm.

"Not anymore." Bellamy finally turned, but looked at Lincoln. Octavia had been his responsibility for so long, and he loved her so much…but so did Lincoln. And he knew the grounder would keep his sister safe. It was Clarke that needed him now.

"I did it," Bellamy announced again, stepping towards the clearing. The grounders had turned to watch him, and Lexa searched his face for any hint of a lie. Bellamy forced himself to maintain eye contact, to dare her to call him a liar.

But she didn't.

"I planted the vial in Clarke's pocket. I thought she could pass it off as medicine. I put the poison in the drink before Marcus gave it to you."

"Cut her down," Lexa ordered as a grounder descended on Bellamy. "Tie him up."

Bellamy allowed himself to be led to the post as Gustus stepped up behind Clarke and cut the ropes. Suddenly free, Clarke's knees gave out and she began to fall. Breaking free of the grounder, Bellamy caught her. He could feel her grasping at his sleeves, pulling back to look him in the face.

"Don't do this." For the first time since he'd known her, her blue eyes were filled with tears. "Take it back. Don't."

"I have to," he said, willing himself to keep going. "They need you. Clarke – I need you."

"Bellamy."

"Figure it out," he said as hands started to pull him away. "Who would want you both dead? Why?" He gave her a half-smile. "Don't let me die, princess."

"Bellamy!"

Clarke reached for him as he was pulled from her. Someone stripped off his jacket, and someone else wrenched his arms over his head. The pole was rough and unforgiving against his back, and the rope cut harshly into his skin.

Clarke hadn't moved, and only stared at him in horror.

"Clarke, go," Bellamy barked. Startled, Clarke rose shakily to her feet and backed away slowly before turning and running. Once she was gone, once she was out of immediate danger, Bellamy relaxed.

She would either discover the truth or she wouldn't. He would die or he wouldn't. It all depended on Clarke. But she would live. That was all that mattered that day to him. Their people wouldn't be left without a leader. He wouldn't be left without her guidance. As long she survived, they all would – even if he didn't.

He barely felt the first cut. He wouldn't let himself feel it. The moment he did, Clarke would be out of time, and he'd be dead before she could figure it out. And she would figure it out. How the poison had gotten in the drink. Who wanted them both dead. Why.

It felt like minutes. It felt like hours. It felt like acid and fire, it felt icy and numb. By the time they reached his stomach, he couldn't stop himself from crying out.

He barely saw Indra step up, sword in hand. He could feel the tip of it against his chest, though, as she placed it neatly between two ribs. She wasn't just going to cut him: she was going to kill him.

Bellamy saw her lean in, felt the edge of her sword slice open his skin as it raced towards his heart. As he watched the sword sink deeper into his rib cage, the only thing he could think was "If anything happens to Octavia, I am going to kill Lincoln."

"Wait!"

Bellamy groaned as Indra paused, her sword buried in his chest, centimeters away from his heart.

"Stop!" Clarke strode forward, the blue bottle in her hand. "It was in the cup, Lexa. Not the drink. See?" Bellamy watched, horrified as Clarke pulled the cork out of the bottle and chugged the drink. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and waited. Nothing happened.

With a flash of understanding, Bellamy realized what had happened.

"Gustus," he rasped, wincing against Indra's sword.

Lexa whipped around to face him. "What?"

"You two weren't the target," he gasped. "Alliance was. Gustus."

Slowly, Lexa turned to face her second-in-command.

"Gustus," she said, her voice like thunder. "You have been accused. How do you respond?"

"The alliance is a bad idea, Commander," Gustus said, stepping forward, spine straight. "I did it to protect you; it would have cost you your life."

"Now you will pay for it with yours." Lexa never wavered as she addressed him. With a nod from her commander, Indra ripped her sword out of Bellamy's chest, his heart thankfully still beating. He felt a knife at his wrists as the rope was cut, and the last thing he saw was Lincoln and Octavia hurrying towards him before everything went black.

Bellamy could hear a fire crackling. Breathing deep, he opened his eyes.

"Welcome back, big brother." Octavia leaned over him, smiling, her blue eyes damp. "If you ever scare me like that again, I will kill you."

"Noted." He chuckled, then stopped when his wounds throbbed.

"What-"

"The alliance is still intact," Octavia said, guessing at his questions. "Clarke and Lexa are coming up with a strategy now. Lexa killed Gustus this afternoon."

"Raven?"

"Holding it together," Octavia said with a nod. "I think after what happened this afternoon she realized that could have been Finn. She won't get over it for a long time, but I think she'll stop blaming Clarke for it."

"Good." Bellamy let go of the tension he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

"Bell, that was so stupid," Octavia murmured, suddenly serious. She paused. "How did you know Gustus did it?

"He'd do anything to protect her," he whispered. "It just made sense."

Octavia didn't say anything. She gave his hand one last squeeze and stood, a sad smile on her lips. "I'll tell Clarke you're awake."

"No." Bellamy held onto his sister's hand. "No. Let her worry about something else right now. I'm fine. I'll talk to her later. Ok, O?"

Octavia pursed her lips in disapproval but nodded before leaving.

Clarke was ok. He was alive. The alliance held. They would go to Mount Weather. And he and Clarke would get their people back. It would be ok. He would make it ok.

I can't lose you, too.

He wasn't going anywhere.