CHAPTER NINETEEN
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     "TAYLOR, CAN YOU HEAR ME?" Her breath was ragged and her insides felt like they were burning up along with her skin. Coughing slightly, her eyes fluttered open to first see the outline of Clarke looking down at her concernedly.

     Mouth opening ever so slightly, she was overcome with another bout of queasiness and shot to her side, heaving up another revolting mess of warm, thick blood. The makeshift bed she was lying on was somewhat comforting despite the full scale of her symptoms.

     "I don't know why she's reacting so violently — it could be having such prolonged, close contact with Murphy," she heard Clarke say in a muffled tone, the rag that she held over her mouth bringing down the volume of her voice.

     "What's happening?" Taylor managed to whisper, overcome with a bout of coughing just as the last word left her lips.

     "Biological warfare. The Grounders sent Murphy in with some kind of sickness," Clarke explained hastily. She only groaned in response, clutching her stomach and shaking her head.

"Reacting violently? Is she going to be okay?" another voice, Bellamy's, inquired from somewhere beside where Clarke was. She was finally getting a bearing on where she was and saw both Clarke and Bellamy in total clarity glancing at her.

     "Bell?" she mumbled incoherently turning her head to where she heard his voice. He too had a piece of cloth pressed against his mouth and nose, and judging by what Clarke said about her state, she could only assume that the sickness was spread through contact.

     "I'm here," he assured. She felt faint and wanted to fall into a peaceful state of sleep, the exhaustion that invaded every cell in her body begging her to.

     "Bellamy," Clarke warned, making sure he wasn't close enough to contract the virus. It looked like he was about to protest, but Taylor coughed in response, unable to reach out or say much at all in general.

     "No, it's okay. Get out of here," she told him. "I don't want you to get sick." It wasn't exceedingly clear to her what happened after that, as she fell unconscious almost promptly after she finished speaking.

     When she opened her eyes again, how much later she did not know, everything felt appreciably better. The dimly lit and pungent smelling dropship was what welcomed her drooping eyes. Fresh blood dripped from her nose and she shook her head, trying to value the fact that she wasn't throwing it up this time.

     Heaving herself up, she glanced around at all of the coughing teenagers that lie on the floor coughing and sputtering, groaning in pain. The smell was ten times worse than it had been when Jasper was gravely injured. The dead bodies being dragged from the ship didn't exactly make her feel more optimistic.

     Someone tapped her shoulder lightly and she looked over to find Octavia giving her a weak smile. "Here," she said, offering her one of the roughly made cups that they had made at some point.

     "Thank you," she replied and took a sip of the water, it feeling amazing as it traveled down her dry throat. Octavia excused herself to go help others who had fallen ill after they spoke for a while and she assured Taylor that things were looking better for her since they had brought her in.

     Octavia's caring spirit made Taylor feel almost proud as she watched her comfort others. Soon enough, she had finished the water and laid back down, falling asleep fairly quickly after that.

     When she woke up once again, things seemed to have gotten much more crowded and all the worse for the majority of them. This time, she was able to sit up, then stand, and start to walk, albeit slightly wobbly, across the room. She held her arms close to herself as she watched everyone around her struggle. Evidently this is what it took to win a war. The Grounders weren't afraid to play a little bit dirty in order to bask in the glory of victory — or simply the relief of having survived.

     She spotted Clarke leaning over and straightening back up with a defeated sort of look. Taylor approached her and set a hand on her shoulder, glancing down at the boy she had just been tending to who looked on the edge of death.

     "I can help out if you need a break," Taylor offered, sending her a sympathetic look after she tore her eyes away from the boy. "I'm feeling a lot better."

     "No, no." Clarke waved her off and shook her head. "I can —"

     "Clarke," she deterred. "You have to take a break at some point." Clarke looked hesitant, but then nodded reluctantly, shuffling off to another part of the ship where she could sleep. Before she left, she explained what to do which wasn't horribly complicated.

     After tending to a few sick, she realized just how hard it must have been for Clarke to keep up and do it all on her own all of the time, being the only one with medical knowledge. When she had come to that realization was also when she noticed something, or rather someone.

     "No," she breathed, hurrying over to the bed that was crammed haphazardly between all of the others and the hammocks that hung from the ceiling. "Bellamy..."

     She couldn't help but feel partially responsible for him lying there with dried blood on his face and several shades paler than the last time she had seen him. Octavia was luckily immune, but it didn't seem as though he shared the same fortune.

     Brushing a few stray hairs away from his face, she bit her lip and tried to contain how upsetting it was to see him like that. She let her fingers run down the side of his face gently and his eyes started to flicker open.

     "Taylor?" he coughed, the expression on his face something that looked like a mixture of confusion and pain, together all at once.

     "Hey," she greeted softly. He attempted to sit up, stifling a wince, but she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back onto the bed carefully. "You have to rest."

     He huffed slightly, but didn't argue with what she was saying. Shuffling slightly, she moved to get up and see if she could help some others, knowing Clarke might be up soon, but his hand reached out blindly and grabbed onto hers.

     "Stay," he whispered hoarsely, coughing a few times before closing his eyes tightly as if what was happening was too unbearable. "Please."

     Glancing over to the other side of the ship, she saw Clarke stir and begin to wake, not looking like she'd be able to get back to sleep anytime soon.

     "Of course," she responded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Eyes opening, his gaze rested on the ceiling of the ship and she realized then just how scared he looked. "You're going to be okay."

     The next moment his eyes were closed and he was sleeping once again. Shifting, trying not to wake Bellamy up, she settled herself so that she was lying next to him, her hand still clasped in his. She blinked away the gathering the moisture in her eyes and soon too fell into a quiet state of slumber, just hoping everything will have fixed itself by the time she woke up. But even she knew that was more than a long shot.

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     "Yeah." That was what pulled her from her sleep and called out to her from the depths of her dreams much later. She blinked a few times, noticing the absence of Bellamy's hand in hers and shot up from her reclined position quickly in a fervent confusion.

     The faces of Bellamy and Clarke once again greeted her, Clarke giving her a weak smile when she looked back at her. The two sat side by side on the edge of the bed, Taylor scooting over to the position next to Bellamy. It seemed as though the conversation they were just having had died with her awakening.

     "It's almost dawn," Bellamy pointed out, glancing at all of the still sick people that surrounded him. She could only wish that things could have been solved with a little sleep and some rest, but the threat of the Grounders still loomed above their heads, dark and ominous. "We better get everyone inside. If we lock the doors, maybe the Grounders will think we're not home."

     "Ha, ha," Taylor laughed drily, her words hollow and quiet. "I have a feeling that won't convince them so easily."

     "Not everyone is sick, either," Clarke added, nodding along and sending Taylor a look that told her that she agreed that plan might not be the best one considering the circumstances.

     "Sick is better than dead," Bellamy replied gravely, looking down at the floor.

     "You don't think Finn and Jasper are gonna pull it off," Clarke concluded. Taylor had, in fact, been informed of the plan to blow up the bridge that they had tried to create peace on. And she wished she could say that she had more faith in her friends, but it felt like more than a two person job, especially with an inexperienced shooter.

     The most shocking part was that Finn had come up with it — the one who had a distaste for violence and had expressed his disapproval at her using guns on Unity Day.

     "Do you?" Bellamy questioned in response to Clarke's statement. She stayed silent for a few seconds and averted her eyes to the side. It was clear that none of them believed the plan would work very well in their favor.

     "I'll get everyone inside," Clarke conceded, getting up from her position grudgingly. It seemed almost ridiculous that their plan was simply hoping that the Grounders wouldn't attack them because they had locked their doors, but she truly didn't see any other options.

     Bellamy and Taylor sat in silence for a few more peaceful moments before she stood up, him following suit. She parted her lips to say something, that she couldn't quite remember after the next few seconds, before he suddenly wrapped her in a comforting hug.

     After she got over the initial surprise, she wrapped her arms around him and returned it wholeheartedly. "I'm glad you're okay," he muttered close to her ear, and it almost felt like her heart skipped a beat, then began beating slightly faster.

     "You too," she replied quietly before stepping away. The look he was giving her intensified whatever feeling she was having and she cleared her throat and nodded toward the entrance of the ship. "Go help Clarke get everyone in, I'll try to make some space in here."

     Nodding tiredly, he exited the ship and a few more people trickled in. She moved uninhabited beds to the edges of the ship to clear more room in the center, directing those not sick to go upstairs as she did so.

     A loud resounding boom echoed through the murmurs of the people crowding together to enter the ship. Taylor ceased what she was doing and pushed back the tarp, her eyes wandering to where everyone else was staring.

     A dark black mushroom cloud had smeared itself across the dim sky, indicating that Jasper and Finn had done exactly what they hadn't been expected to do. Fumbling down the ramp, she squinted her eyes at the sight and shook her head in shock. She felt guilty for not having more faith in them.

     "There! It's them! Open the gate!" Harper shouted enthusiastically, pointing to the open woods some time later. They had gotten back in a remarkable amount of time, she guessed they had probably hurried after the bomb had detonated in the interest of safety.

     The gates opened to reveal a smiling Monty and Jasper, basking in the sound of the cheers that came from everyone else. Taylor stepped into the crowd and grinned at them. After their initial welcome, the people spread out among themselves. This was exactly what needed to happen — not only for their safety, but for their morale.

     Jasper and Monty approached her almost haughtily, which she smiled weakly at and rolled her eyes. Both of them popped up on either side of her and wrapped their arm around their respective side.

     "Feeling better I see," Monty commented with a smirk.

     "Definitely now that I don't have to worry about us being killed by Grounders. That's a real ease on my mind," she replied, all three of them walking forward in the direction of the ship.

     "Hell yeah! No Grounders getting in this camp tonight!" Jasper cheered, nudging her, and by extent Monty, eagerly. The two laughed light heartedly and in that moment, surviving seemed just a little more possible.