Bellamy tensed, shoulders curving inward in discomfort when Clarke said she'd seen his body. He flexed his hands, the movement causing pain along the place on his forearm where Maya had removed the tracking device. He had been running on adrenaline back in Mount Weather, but it was wearing off the longer he spent outside of the mountain. His weight sagged heavily against the door frame and as he glanced down at his boots, Bellamy was reminded that they weren't his boots. They were the boots of the man he'd murdered. He shut his eyes, trying to focus on the present and not on what it took to get here. He could muddle through that later; the things he'd gone through weren't something that was just going to go away, whether he liked it or not.
He could understand Clarke's trepidation, even if it hurt. While half of him expected her to have moved on and to have not given a second thought to him after his death, another part had wished she would've been thrilled. Excited the way she had been when they met back up at Camp Jaha. Bellamy could understand the caution, though. Everything about this was surreal. It wasn't like people came back from the dead all the time.
He weighed his options as she spoke, he could see her trying to puzzle through everything. He didn't know how it was possible either. Bellamy could remember dying, but he could remember being alive too - in that order. His death felt just as real as the torture he faced at the hands of the Mountain Men. When he spoke, his voice still rasped from screaming. He had holes in his arms, in his neck, in his chest from all the tubes and needles, but he didn't have any scars from the attack that killed him. So which was real? Were they both? Were neither? Bellamy decided, after a moment, to push away from the door frame and take a hesitant step into the bedroom.
"I'm back," he said with a careful nod of his head and moved closer to the bed. "I don't know how," Bellamy answered honestly. "I know what happened here," he didn't want to say aloud that he'd died. As he was speaking, Bellamy had moved as close as he dared, stopping a few feet from the edge of the bed. "But Clarke... I'm back," he reiterated, and the corner of his mouth curved upward slightly, "Can't get rid of me that easy." If there was one thing Bellamy was learning about himself, it was that could survive anything with the right motivation - to always protect Octavia, to always protect his people... and to never let Clarke down.