A nod. It was more of an acknowledgement than Clarke deserved; this conversation was more than Clarke deserved. His anger was justified, but he knew here, it had no place. Not if they were going to survive this place and make it back to their world; here, all they had was each other. Clarke hated using that against him, but it was more than just not being alone. It was more than the two of them being from the same place and time. Clarke didn't need Bellamy because he was all she had here. No, she needed him because he was Bellamy. Because she cared about him and if anything happened to him, Clarke would never forgive herself. No matter how tame this place appeared to be, how safe, experience taught her otherwise. When they first arrived on Earth, the forest, the glowing blue butterflies, and their lessons, their history, gave them the belief that nothing and no one could survive here. The two-faced deer spoke volumes, but people? Animals were resilient, but people were easily twisted and broken. So fragile. Then the Grounders struck down Jasper, impaling him with spear in the chest, nearly killing him, and they realized in horror, how foolish and naive they had truly been. Perhaps there was no spears flying, no Grounders here, but threats came in all shapes and all sizes and Lexa was right. Clarke cared for Bellamy...more than she cared for any of the others.
She pulled away, but only a bit and nodded too. "Together," she agreed softly, echoing his sentiment in a much less gruff voice. Would he say she was just using him? Again? Even if, in Mount Weather, it hadn't been that way at all. She'd leaned on him strictly for the group before, she knew that, but it had stopped being that way a long, long time ago. When? Was it the moment she glimpsed him, alive, breathing, walking towards her? No, no, that was way, way after. Could it be when she shut the dropship door on him? Supposedly sealed his fate? No, it was the moment Bellamy Blake saved her life; bloody and busted up, against the tree, face stained with dirt and sticky with sweat, she looked at him and everything, anything, shifted. Suddenly, he was not just a jerk, the man that shot her best friend's father, egotistical and angry. He was actually...good. The man he only showed his sister. Compassionate, kind, caring, and protective. No Clarke never dreamed she'd think of Bellamy as anything, but the boy who wanted to rip off all their bands, selfish, to save himself and to keep him with is sister.
"I want the one next to you," she blurted. Clarke never lacked in boldness, in confidence, but when she spoke those words, her voice quivered ever so slightly. A betrayal of her own possible feelings. "It's okay. Maybe we can...try to do Christmas..." It sounded so silly. Do Christmas. The last thing on their minds was engaging in old holiday glamour, lights, trees, and presents. It was battle tactics and guns. Now, everything changed. Now they had time to enjoy the possibility of what they read, what they saw, so long ago. It was magical, but foolish. Maybe. Part of Clarke wanted to engage in the bright lights, Christmas carols, and even presents. The rumored Black Friday. Domestic warfare, right? Bellamy's voice pulled her from her thoughts. Be like? Upfront with each other? Did he-
"Okay..." she trailed off, a deep breath, and looked up at him; it suddenly felt very much like an impossible task. "I left you and I shouldn't have. I should have stayed..." Upfront? Honest? "I'm sorry."