It's three in the morning, probably; Bellamy stopped checking the time obsessively after Octavia's fever broke about an hour ago, and after he gave her the last dose of Tylenol for the night. She's sleeping, thank God, which means it's time for him to send Gina home, clean things up, get to sleep himself.

Instead, he heads for the living room, where the TV's still on and blaring some stupid infomercial. The lights are all off, mostly, and there are boxes of medicine and random stuff strewn everywhere -- including a not inconsiderable number of oranges. He flops onto the couch, half-slumped over, and doesn't move when he feels her sit down nearby.

"You should go home," he says after a minute.