Thanks so much for the kindly reviews! I'm trying hard to keep this one going, but at this point I'm kind of at a loss. I want to go back to one-shots again, just giving glimpses into their lives at Camp Bellarke. I'm open to suggestions!

In the end, Bellamy's bargain paid off. Kane and Abby respected him enough for what he'd done to let him return to Camp Bellarke unfollowed. He turned down their offers of help and supplies, stubbornly insisting his people were fine on their own.

Bellamy did, however, leave with Abby's ring hanging around his neck.

Clarke was cleaning a room after treating a rash when the door slammed shut. She'd sent London home for the night, and ever since the wind from the rainstorm had been hurling things against he building. Clarke was inclined to just say the night.

"Hello?" she called, not expecting an answer except for the howling of the wind. She headed down the hall to see if someone had entered. "Hello? Is someone there?" Clarke rounded the corner to Bellamy's smirk. He was soaking wet, dripping mud and water all over her clean floor, and his arm was in a sling—but he was there.

"Hey Princess."

"Bellamy?"

"Has it been so long that you don't recognize me?" he teased. "I came right to you, just like I said I would."

"I just," she moved to hug him, then stopped. "What happened to your arm?"

"I broke my wrist," Bellamy confessed. "It was my own fault, and I can explain, but your mom said it needed to be set a few days ago."

"My mom?"

Bellamy nodded. "I can explain everything, but right now I'm soaking wet and cold and my wrist is overdue on medical attention and—"

Clarke laughed. "You sound like a little kid. Come into one of the rooms, and I'll take care of you."

Bellamy followed obediently, but when Clarke shut the door behind them, he panicked. "Can you not close that?"

"Aren't you planning to change?" Clarke asked, digging in a cabinet for something. "You really don't need to add hypothermia to your list of experiences, and I don't want to add it to my list of things I've saved you from."

"I know, I just, closed doors and small rooms…"

Clarke opened it. "Nobody will be in this late anyway. Here." She tossed him something shaped like a robe. "I'll find you real clothes later, but right now the idea is to get you out of that."

"What is this?" Bellamy asked, holding it up with one hand.

"London and I call them hospital cloaks," Clarke explained sheepishly. "We've been working on them when we have time. They button loosely down the back, or in front depending on how you put it on. IT makes it easier to treat and examine while still allowing the patient some privacy."

"This would've been great when you took my clothes and made me stay in only my boxers for weeks," Bellamy complained.

"That's sort of what inspired—do you need help?" She'd been watching Bellamy struggle one-handed with his wet shirt.

"Yes," he said from between gritted teeth, head hanging so as not meet her eyes.

"It's ok to need help," Clarke reminded him as she eased his shirt off, trying not to jar his arm too much.

"I know. I just, I'd rather do things myself."

"I know." Clarke gestured for him to duck, so she could pull the shirt over his head. HE did so, and when he straightened Clarke's eyes fell on his scarred body. She gasped quietly.

"Eyes up here, Clarke," Bellamy teased gently, using his good hand to tilt her chin up. "I'm ok, remember?"

Clarke nodded. "Do you need help…?" she gestured again.

Bellamy chuckled. "I can manage my pants this time," he assured her.

Once Bellamy was out of his wet clothes and into a hospital robe, he found himself seated on a stool.

"Tell me about the wrist."

"I broke it trying to get out of restraints. Your mom splinted it, but she said it would need to be set…two days ago."

"She said that two days ago?"

"It should have been set two days ago," he corrected.

"That's going to hurt," Clarke warned. "A lot."

"Already does," Bellamy countered

"You'll explain about my mom"

"After you set my wrist."

Clarke pulled a few mysterious things out of the cabinets and handed Bellamy a piece of wood. "Bite down on this and try not to move." He did. Clarke tried to be as gentle as possible. Eventually, Bellamy just requested that she get it over with, so she did the work quickly, eliciting a muffled groan from Bellamy. Once she'd secured it as best she could, Clarke sat back.

Bellamy didn't say anything. He stayed hunched over his arm, hoping she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes. He felt small arms go around his shoulders, and suddenly his head was resting on Clarke's shoulder. He took a shuddering breath and let the pain race through his body, eventually dulling to a point where he thought he could talk without losing it. He pulled away.

"Well?"

"Well that hurt."

"I warned you."

"I know you did. No kiss for my bravery? Or the pain?"

"Tell me about my mom and how you broke your wrist after you promised you'd be fine," she countered.

"It was my fault. That's an entirely different thing I have to tell you."

"Start talking, Rebel King. Where did you see my mom?"

"Arkadia. I saw her, Kane, two guards, and a guy named Kent who hates my guts. He blames his wife's suffering on my decision to steal water for the 100."

"Our decision."

"I got there, and they cuffed me and put me in a room where I was supposed to wait for Kane. Then Kent came in and laid into me for the water, and all I wanted to do was talk to your mom to get her blessing but Kent went crazy and I woke up in medical and it was Abby, not you—"

"Her blessing?" Clarke interrupted. "This whole time you weren't on a supply run, you were visiting my mom?"

Bellamy nodded, then ducked his head. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, and after his discovery at Arkadia, there was a lot Clarke needed to know before he told her about the reason for his trip. "She gave it," he revealed hoarsely.

"She gave what?"

"Your mom gave me her blessing to ask you to marry me."

Clarke gave an uncharacteristic squeal and threw her arms around him. "Yes!"

"No."

"What?"

"Before you say yes, you need to know how I broke my wrist." He pulled out of her embrace and pushed her back.

Clarke sat, looking confused. "Look, I know you said you'd come back ok, but I also know there are risks out there, so it's ok. I forgive you. I don't see how your broken wrist—"

"There's something about me you need to know."

"Bellamy—"

"Clarke, this isn't easy. Please just let me talk."

"Alright."

"It's not the nightmares. I know you're the one who sends the guys to wake me."

Clarke opened her mouth, then shut it.

"The door needing to be open, the wrist, Clarke, I don't really know what happened. One minute I was trying to talk down Kent, and the next I was back in the hut with the Rogue Ice Nation men. It was real and I felt it and heard it, and your mom says I broke my wrist trying to get away." Bellamy wouldn't meet Clarke's eyes. "I don't want to know what I would have done if I hadn't been restrained. Your mom, she had a name for it, for what happened—"

"PTSD," Clarke finally spoke. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I think a lot of us have it, to some degree. Why is this supposed to change my mind?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Bell, look at me." When he lifted his head, Clarke saw tears in his eyes. She suddenly realized he was genuinely afraid of what would happen next. "What do you want?"

"I want to promise to love you forever. I want you to be mine and only mine, and I want to be only yours. I want you to live in my cabin, and have my kids, and be my wife. I want to come home to you every night instead of coming here. But I don't want to hurt you."

"Ok then."

"What?"

"Whether we're married or not, we'll hurt each other. We care too much about each other not to."

"But—"

"I knew you had PTSD."

"You did?"

"Not to the extent that you just told me, but yes, I did. Do you honestly think I don't know what the nightmares, constant glancing around a room, and the inability to relax and not work long physically-intensive hours adds up to?"

Bellamy hadn't known himself.

"It doesn't scare me. I love you even with all that."

"It scares me," he confessed.

"I know. But now you won't be alone. Now give me the ring."

"How did you—"

"I took your shirt off, Bellamy. How was I not supposed to see my mother's ring?"

Bellamy muttered something under his breath but handed it over.

"Now you get a kiss," Clarke said, leaning forward to give him a peck on the lips.

"That's it?" Bellamy complained. "After all that, that's it?"

"If you think you deserve more, get it yourself."

Bellamy grasped her waist and pulled her flush against himself. Then, he kissed her long and slow and lingering.

Clarke rested her head on his shoulder. "I love you." When Bellamy chuckled, she could feel it in his chest.

"That's good, since you're wearing a ring I gave you, Princess."