A/N: First time writing for both this fandom and this ship. So please be nice if it sucks. Also, I couldn't quite remember where Bellamy was at the end of S2E08. So if I'm wrong and this technically doesn't work in canon, ah. Oh well.

Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

There is still blood underneath the fingernails of her right hand.

Clarke has tried everything she can think of to get rid of the marks, aside from tearing off her fingernails completely. But they are stained. She accepts this.

Her fingernails have been stained with blood before. As have her clothes and her hair and her hands. But it was always the blood of an enemy, or someone she had been trying to save. This time it is the blood of a friend whom she killed like he was her enemy.

She sits in a room alone because she can no longer stand the looks on everyone's faces. Devastation on Raven's. A strange mix of relief and horror on her mother's. Respect on Murphy's. It is too much raw emotion, so she has tucked herself away from the scrutiny of everyone around her.

Clarke's eyes flutter with exhaustion. Her hands shake with weariness. And her cheek still stings where Raven had slapped her. And her heart, her heart beats pain.

Someone enters the room and Clarke looks up sharply, already annoyed. But it is only Bellamy, so she immediately quiets.

The way he shuts the door behind him and sits down on the pallet beside her makes her body relax. She suddenly feels incredibly sleepy, like just the sight of Bellamy soothes her body enough to remind herself of her own exhaustion.

But Clarke is old enough to understand that sleep does not bring peace, just a temporary way to hide. And Clarke can't bring herself to curl up and fall asleep when Finn is dead at her own hand. It just doesn't seem fair.

But then, what on Earth is fair about Earth?

"I should have—"

"Don't." She cuts him off sternly, leaving no room for debate. It does not surprise her that Bellamy is trying to take some of the burden off of her shoulders. She's not quite sure when she stopped disliking him and when she started looking to him for support, but she can't think of anyone else she'd rather have sitting beside her at this moment. He is, perhaps, the only one who might actually understand.

Nonetheless, Finn's blood is not underneath his fingernails.

Bellamy is waiting for her to speak. Or maybe he's not. Clarke is too tired to tell. But his gaze is soft as he watches her in earnest. She feels as if she could either talk or remain quiet and he would accept either response.

"I'm a murderer."

Bellamy is instantly shaking his head. "What you did was kind. We both know what would have happened to Finn if you hadn't done what you did. You showed him mercy."

But did Finn even deserve mercy?

The fact that this thought almost escapes her lips makes Clarke hate herself all the more.

Her bottom lip trembles and Bellamy gently pulls her against him and she sniffs and gasps, curling her fingers against the edge of his jacket.

"Clarke, don't beat yourself up over this. You did the honorable thing."

But they both know that his words are useless. Clarke will always beat herself up over this.

I killed someone I loved.

"I know you loved him," Bellamy says quietly, as if guessing her thoughts. "He knew it too."

Clarke tries very hard not to cry.

She inhales a couple of shaky breaths, her eyes half closed. The pillow at the end of the pallet is growing more and more tempting by the second. Her mind is graying, as if it is too drained to let its own thoughts dwell on anything but rest.

"The sun was rising before I came here. The Grounder Commander and your mom are going to continue discussing the terms of the truce."

Clarke head rolls a little and she makes a half-hearted attempt to stand.

Bellamy's hold on her tightens a bit and she feels his head shake against hers. "No. You need to take it easy."

She has no energy left to argue with him.

She settles against him and props her head against his shoulder instead of letting it loll against his side. Clarke shuts her eyes.

Her head jerks and moments later she is awake and lying down on the pallet. She hadn't remembered falling asleep.

Bellamy tells someone at the door to fuck off before shutting said door in their face. He blinks and straightens when he notices that she's watching him.

"Sorry I woke you," he says before crossing the room and settling down on the floor next to the pallet. He doesn't say anything else, just continues flicking his gaze between her and the door.

Clarke either catnaps for a few minutes or sleeps for days on end. She's not sure which one it is. But in a moment between nightmare after nightmare of the light dying in Finn's eyes and wakefulness, she finds herself staring at her bloodied fingernails.

Hot tears slip from her eyes, over her nose and down her cheek. She presses her lips together, trying to keep her overwhelming emotions at bay. Nothing about herself is the same anymore, and her fingernails mock her with this bloody reminder.

Bellamy's left hand closes over her right one. She expects him to squeeze it in solidarity before pulling away.

He squeezes it. But he does not pull away, effectively shielding her right hand from her vision.

He is protecting her from herself.

When Clarke finally falls asleep again it is Bellamy's hand against hers that makes her feel safe. Clarke doesn't dream again for the rest of the day. All there is behind her eyes is nothing upon nothingness.

And for but a brief moment, with her hand clasped in Bellamy's, she is at peace.