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Chapter Text

Clarke slipped the last piece of Lexa she’d ever hold into her coat, just over her heart. The metal was cold through her thin shirt; she tried to ignore it, focusing on the journey ahead. As she turned her gaze away from Polis, she urged the horse onward, its surefooted pace carrying her forward over the winding pathway through the hilly forest. As best as she could tell, it was midafternoon and before long it would soon be dark.

She needed to make it to Luna’s clan, the Floukru (or Floudonkru? She couldn’t remember exactly), soon – before dark, if possible. As best as she remembered what Lincoln had said what seemed like an eternity ago, he’d explained about a small clan “east to the sea”. That meant she just had to keep going with her back to the sun, barely visible through the heavy cloud and tree cover.

Clarke heaved a tremulous sigh and blinked rapidly, remembering she was on a mission and couldn’t afford herself the luxury of breaking down.

It was all too soon.

Clarke could sometimes still feel Lexa’s blood on her hands, staining her hands black as she held Lexa in her last moments.

And then—

Ontari.

Clarke’s fists clenched on the reins and she ground her teeth as she tried to think of the vilest, nastiest word for someone like that.

What she did could never be forgiven. Ever.

The rays of sunshine peeking through the trees as the cloud cover momentarily broke failed to lift Clarke’s dark mood. She reached into her bag, pulled out her flask, and mechanically took a sip before recapping it.

The horse’s pace slowed as the terrain got a bit rougher, sloping downhill as the trail narrowed; some of the leaves from the bushes on either side of the trail were now close enough to almost brush against her legs. Clarke’s frustration rose as she tried to peer through the neverending forest ahead of her, trying to catch any glimpse of civilization, even if just a small hut with a feeble fire nearby.

It was going to be a long trip ahead, at this rate.

Several hours later, night had come on quickly and Clarke was still riding along the lone path. Lincoln would have known a better way, but there had been literally no time to try and find him. The quarter moon shone high in the sky, providing some illumination to add to the plastic container of moss that gave off an eerie blue-purple glow in the night.

She had come across a man from the Trishana nation when looking for the creek she heard off in the distance; together they’d gone to a small clearing, a rough semicircle about thirty feet across which led to a gently sloping riverbank that easily let her refill her flask, her horse to drink, and for the man, whose name turned out to be Durek, to get set up for some fishing.

Clarke had never been so thankful she knew how to speak and understand Trigedasleng as she had at that moment, since between Durek’s obvious lack of interest in the succession (“Heda nou kamp raun hir,” he had rationalized) and his laconic personality (he was basically a trader, and as far as he was concerned Polis wouldn’t suffer for his arrival a few days later or earlier either way), she was able to disarm any remaining suspicion and convince him she was the new Heda’s trusted messenger girl specially chosen to deliver an important message to Floudonkru.

That was how she’d been given the moss-lamp – and a chilling warning for her trip to Floudonkru this way.

The more usual route leaving Polis, she’d been told (and which she assumed Lincoln would have known), was considerably farther to the north on the other side of several of the high near-mountains she was passing by, but if you could only go from Trishana to Floudonkru, you had to go this more dangerous southern route.

There were treacherous passes in a few places, and for some reason, a strange glowing lake pit was near one of them. People always dismounted their horses and walked single-file through that part, and the journey, as best as Clarke could guess from Durek’s reckoning, was about half an hour.

Durek had told her of the time one of his comrades-in-arms, a man named Asdin, had slipped and fallen on that very passage on the way to Floudonkru. He had slid the several hundred feet below, splashing into the water where the air above it seemed to shimmer and glow just a bit, even in the sunlight. He had screamed loudly once, and then – disappeared, as if in a flash of light.

It wasn’t natural, Durek allowed, and if there had been any other way aside from going to Polis and then re-exiting out along the northerly route, they would long have abandoned this more dangerous passage.

Durek did say there was a slow and steady attempt to cut a safer route even further south, but people who had ventured the journey and made it had said there were several places where a pack animal couldn’t go because the ground was too steep. Clarke privately agreed that it would take possibly another decade to dig out and prepare a path with shovels and picks that would be passable for humans and horses alike.

But all that had been quite a while ago, and Clarke was, once again, the only traveller for kilometers around. The fork in the road was coming up, where she had been told to go to the right to go to Trishana, and further onwards to go to Floudonkru.

Onwards Clarke went, and her horse’s steady pace carried them easily along the path, with no real warning of the true danger ahead until she looked up and saw a craggy peak ahead of her just to the right, sloping sharply down to a valley on her left. She could see a hazy unnatural bluish-white glow rising up over the trees in front of her, and at the same moment, the trail began taking an unmistakable upward climb.

Her heart hammered in her chest as the glow marched steadily closer to her on her left, and the peak on her right, hemming her in even as the trees to her left began to fall away, down to the denuded rocky valley below, bare of trees with only that harsh blue-white glow rising up from the lake. She brought her horse to a halt and dismounted, not liking that her legs were shaking. A hook on the plastic container for her moss-lamp let her hang it off a small hook in her saddle.

Just on the off chance that something did happen, thought Clarke, the chip was far more important. She extracted the metal canister once again and rubbed the top cover, feeling the cold metal against her hand. She reluctantly slipped it into one of her saddlebags. It was a risk, but if she fell— Luna must still get that chip. She would know what it was, if she was a Nightblood. And she would know how the ritual worked, if she could read and understand the Flamekeeper’s journal.

The horse could, Clarke reasoned, only go one of two ways: forward or back. If Clarke fell, the horse could walk on to Floudonkru territory. Ontari’s scouts would eventually seek out all the clans on general principle, but chances were the smaller clans might be overlooked at first.

By the combined light from the radioactive glow and the moonlight, Clarke could see the path ahead of her: the trail itself was actually quite wide, a good couple of meters across and cut into the mountain proper. She stamped her foot on the ground, feeling a slight difference in the stiffness compared to the soil and dirt paths she’d walked on many a time in recent months.

But the hazy air and the glowing water spooked her. It was as though the nuclear blasts ninety-seven years before had somehow wrecked the very fabric of space in the area, warping it subtly somehow. Luckily the lake was very far below, and from what Clarke dimly remembered, the water would block some of the radiation from getting out, cutting down her exposure.

Clarke took the reins, leading her horse behind her as she walked. The heightened snuffling she heard told her the horse was uneasy too. She rubbed the horse’s neck, whispering, “Easy, I’m here.”

Octavia would be so much better at this, mused Clarke. She’d heard some quick snippets from her mother and Kane back in Polis and one of them had been about Octavia’s Grounder-like proficiency on horses.

They walked along the grass-lined road, with Clarke again marvelling at how even it was all the way over the mountain trail. They rounded a curve, and Clarke could see clear across to the end of the road, where a copse of trees marked the “safe” zone. She just had to watch for the occasional twists and turns as she would pass this treacherous area.

Her feet began to hurt, and fatigue was beginning to set in. It was all beginning to crash in on her.

Aden.

The other Nightbloods. Just children, all of them…

Titus.

Ontari. Murderer – murderer – murderer!

And Lexa – whose love she had finally known in full, only to have it cruelly taken away from her by that stuck-up bastard who didn’t even know how to use a gun safely—

So wrapped up in her thoughts was she, and so mechanically had she been walking, that Clarke had let the reins go slack and her feet to the edge—

She jerked to wakefulness, but in doing so, she twisted just slightly the wrong way, losing her footing—

Clarke could only stare, wide-eyed, gasping in utter frozen terror, urging her horse to go on without her as she fell, fell, fell…

She regained herself, clawing futilely at the air, trying to grasp at the sheer cliff face which fell away from her while she plummeted to her certain death below. The lake surface roared up at her, and in a last-ditch effort, Clarke twisted in the air and curled up so her back would hit the water first.

The twisting, wrenching air tore at her, yanking at her a split second before she hit the water at tremendous speed, knocking the wind out of her. She only barely had the presence of mind to not gulp in water, and opened her eyes to see the blinding light almost burning through her – warping her, trying to pull her mind from her body.

So this is death, Clarke realized in the split second before her body disintegrated completely under the harsh radiation. At least I might see Lexa again—

But Durek’s and Clarke’s instincts had both been right. Something about the nuclear blasts concentrated in that area had ripped a tiny warp in space and time in the area. So tiny that normally it was unnoticeable, undetectable.

But an upset to the equilibrium upsets the delicate balance of the space-time warp in that area, and to adjust, the warp grabs onto whatever it can and shunts it somewhere and somewhen else: in this case, it so happened that Clarke’s brain was the very last thing to disintegrate, and her brain activity had been enormously heightened by fear and terror.

The electromagnetic ‘echo’ of her brain slammed its way into Clarke’s body just a few months before, at a different place, a different time.

But it was all she needed to get a running start.

Chapter Text

Blackness.

Then a white point far in the distance glowed.

Clarke’s essence drew towards that light, the point widening like the end of a tunnel as she rushed faster and faster, onwards to the destination.

The white light enveloped her completely as her essence slammed into a slightly younger version of herself—

Clarke snapped to wakefulness, jerking upright, her chest heaving as though she’d just run from a Reaper. She looked around wildly, trying to process: Where the hell was she?

She was on a bed, inside what looked like a large tent or temporary building, that much was clear. The fading burning sensation in her skin caused her to look down at herself. Her hands looked no different than they had just a few hours ago, and when she touched her face all she could feel were some cuts. She patted herself down with swift, urgent movements, reaching all the way to her legs. She could see her legs were fine as well; no blistering reddish skin, no horrific radiation burns – in short, she was clearly alive and well and not showing any effects of having just been in a very radioactive lake.

“I must be fucking dreaming,” Clarke exclaimed. As she slumped back against the pillow, her left hand brushed against a head of hair resting near her thigh. The person stirred, and Clarke gasped as she recognized who it was. “Mom?”

Her mother sat up, blinking as she awoke. “Clarke! Are you all right? Don’t be afraid; you’re in our camp now.” Abby reached up to brush a strand of Clarke’s hair away from her face. Her fingers ghosted across Clarke’s forehead.

This is the realest damned afterlife, ever, Clarke marvelled. I felt that. I felt Mom brushing my hair out of my eyes.

Clarke stared, unsure of what to say next. Was this real?

Abby, apparently misinterpreting Clarke’s puzzled gaze, looked down at the small pin in her coat as she grasped her coat to examine it. She looked at Clarke again and smiled, absently brushing her thumb across the pin's metal surface. “It’s the Chancellor’s pin.”

“You?” blurted Clarke. “Chancellor?! What about Pike? Didn’t he—”

Abby frowned. “Clarke, Pike was on Farm Station. He never made it here. Are you sure you’re all right?” She looked to be on the verge of getting a medkit and stethoscope.

Oh stars in heaven, wondered Clarke. What the fu— She shook her head, blinking rapidly. Nothing made sense in this afterlife!

“Wait, Farm Station didn’t make—Mom, what are you talking about?!” Clarke barked. Was this Arkadia, or—no, it couldn't be. Could it?

“Clarke, you really should lie back down,” Abby urged. “You’re getting agitated and you might have had a concussion I missed last night.”

And this time, her mother did get up and start looking around for a small flashlight. Clarke, her pulse still racing, ignored her mother’s command and took the opportunity to sit up on the makeshift bed, swinging her legs over so her feet dangled near the ground.

Shortly after that, Clarke had a beam of bright light shone into her left eye, then right eye, and while squinting and blinking several times, had her pulse checked as well. After that, Abby sighed, her expression relaxing in relief as she regarded her daughter. “Your eyes seem normal, and your pulse is a little high but you’re otherwise basically healthy. Still, you were out for about ten hours and you came back just absolutely covered in dirt and mud, plus you still have all those cuts on your face.”

Clarke pursed her lips, feeling the twinge of the slight cut in her upper lip. Abby grasped Clarke’s shoulder and looked directly into her eyes, her concern renewed. “Do you feel all right?”

A nagging feeling of wrongness ate at Clarke. She nodded, then stilled in shock. Wait a second, Anya—!

“Mom, I came back with another woman. A Grounder. Didn’t I?” She frowned and peered around the medical bay again. “She should be here, right?”

Abby’s shoulders slumped as she averted her gaze for a moment. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Clarke. She was dead even before you ever got into our camp last night. The guards never brought her inside; I went and checked as soon as I got you cleaned up and treated.”

Oh, fuck. Could it be—Anya—that means I just escaped Mount Weather! Clarke’s throat went dry. This is im-fucking-possible! There’s no way the afterlife could be doing this just to fuck with me, right?

“Can I get up and see my friends?” wondered Clarke.

“All right, I suppose.” Her mother pursed her lips, giving Clarke a stern look. “But take it easy, Clarke.”

Any further discussion was cut off when the blonde security chief, Byrne, barged into the room. “Ma’am. Movement in the north woods.”

“Grounders?” wondered Abby.

“I don’t think so,” Byrne replied, her expression softening in hope.

Abby and Byrne left the medical bay, leaving Clarke to get her clothes back on. An unpleasant tingle went up Clarke’s spine. That was the exact same conversation last time, I’m positive, she realized with a looming sense of dread and anticipation.

As Clarke walked to the flap covering the entrance, she considered. If that had just happened, then the next person to see her should be Raven, waiting outside. Sure enough, as she stepped into the bright daylight and looked down to her right, Raven was seated on a makeshift bed, holding a datapad. She heard Clarke’s footsteps and looked up and beamed up at her friend. Clarke stared in disbelief. She hadn’t seen Raven since—her mind worked to try and pinpoint a date, but all she could come up with was a hazy recollection that maybe she'd seen the other girl in Arkadia. Or was it back at Mount Weather?

Any further thoughts were temporarily suspended as Raven shifted to her feet, bracing herself on her crutch as she called, “Hey! I’ve been waiting out here all night.”

As Raven extended her arm, Clarke automatically did the same, the two embracing in reunion.

Raven was real. Everything was a hundred percent real! Clarke could smell machine oil on Raven’s coat, feel Raven’s cheek pressing against her own, and the wiry muscles of Raven’s shoulder and back through her coat. And Raven’s arm around her was just as solid, just as physical.

“It’s been so long,” murmured Clarke into Raven’s ear.

Raven shifted her grip, pulling back as she held Clarke’s left shoulder. She frowned, peering at Clarke. “It’s only been a couple of days since we blew up all those Grounders at the dropship, Clarke. Are you okay?”

It really doesn’t matter when I saw her last; it's just good to see her again, Clarke decided. She briefly gripped Raven’s arms and grinned. “I guess I’m just happy to see you.”

Raven chuckled. “I would’ve said hello earlier, but Abby said you needed the sleep.” She shifted and winced a bit.

Clarke let her hands fall to her side as she looked down, seeing the brace she recalled Raven wearing, then back up at Raven. Oh fuck, Clarke realized. Her grin faded as she remembered she’d found out her mother had had to operate with no anesthetic.

Raven gave Clarke a good-natured punch to the shoulder, grinning. “Hey, c’mon. Don't look so shocked, okay? I know it sucks, but I’m dealing with it.”

“Open the gate!” someone called in the distance.

Clarke’s attention was pulled away from Raven, and she saw the sign over the main gate: CAMP JAHA.

As if I needed any more proof that afterlives must be way less fucked-up than whatever this is I’m in. Clarke made the mistake of closing her eyes for a moment to try and get her bearings. Instead, she saw the harsh light blasting at her from the lake, felt the burning as the blackness enveloped her, yanking at her…

Raven’s grip on her shoulder brought her back to herself with a start. Clarke gasped, her eyes flying open. “Clarke?” wondered Raven as she frowned.

“I’m fine, just…” Clarke made a vague gesture with her hand and pointed. “I’m gonna go see who’s—”

Raven nodded. “Yeah. Go.” She smiled again at Clarke.

The gate buzzed loudly as Clarke slowly walked, peering at the gate all the while. She worried her lip as her insides twisted. Step by step, event by event, the past was unfolding before her anew.

And that meant—

She spotted the tall man’s dark head of hair, arm around an injured girl, and behind her, the black-haired girl with the brunette. The guard had just wrestled Bellamy’s gun away. Abby was already striding up to the group, examining the injured girl. Shortly after, Monroe left with a slight push by Octavia.

The memories hit Clarke in successive hammerblows.

Handcuffing her to a chair under pretence of a gesture of reconciliation.

Helping Pike massacre three hundred grounders.

His hand, gripping hers as she pulled the lever that ensured the deaths of everyone in Mount Weather.

Braving the dangers of Mount Weather to help sabotage the acid fog on the eve of war.

Clarke staggered. Her vision swam as she looked at Bellamy. She stood, paralyzed in indecision. Bellamy started walking to her, his relieved grin widening with every step as he extended his arms to embrace her.

A loud, thundering pounding rose in Clarke’s ears as she threw up her hands, crying, “Stop!” The dirt ground loudly under Bellamy’s feet as he stumbled to a halt, Octavia reaching out to steady her brother.

Tears pricked at Clarke’s eyes. How could this innocent-looking man, who had helped make Lexa’s task so much harder than it had to be, stand before her free of guilt because whatever crimes he’d committed hadn’t happened yet?!

“Clarke? What’s wrong?” Octavia’s hesitant voice brought Clarke back to herself, and she hastily swiped at her eyes.

Bellamy’s voice grated in her ears, for all that he hesitated as he spoke softly. “Clarke, I swear, whatever’s wrong—”

“I’m sorry, it’s just been so crazy…” she trailed off, reaching out for the one Blake who at least hadn’t judged her for choosing Lexa.

Octavia pulled her into a hug. “We had no idea where you were, Clarke. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She rested her chin on Clarke’s shoulder for a moment, then slowly pulled away, smiling as she did so. Clarke could smell the trees and forest still on Octavia's clothes.

Clarke’s heart nearly broke. This girl had no idea that in just a few months, everything she’d embodied – learning Trigedasleng, being part of Trikru, being Lincoln’s lover – would be for nothing.

Clarke blinked rapidly and sniffled. Octavia, sensing Clarke’s renewed inner turmoil, joked, “Whatever my dumb brother here did, I’m sure we can set him right, huh, girls? Right, Raven?”

Raven stumping up next to them, smirking widely as she did so, distracted Clarke and Bellamy. She called, “Hell yeah, O!”

Bellamy coughed, trying to get Clarke’s attention again. Clarke steeled herself and gazed fully at the man for the first time. She forced herself to look, really look. How different was this version of Bellamy, truly?

The last time Clarke had been at Arkadia, she'd seen the constant slight frown on his face, the ever-present irritation, the short temper, the blind refusal to see the truth – but now, looking at him again, none of that was there. Just as Octavia’s face lacked the weary grimness Clarke had seen before Lexa (she forced herself not to let her jaw quiver at that brief memory), Bellamy’s face showed only curiosity and confusion.

Clarke still had to drag up every scrap of willpower she possessed to extend her arms and let Bellamy embrace her as she held him lightly. Even so, she could detect his familiar scent, feel the strong chest against her as they embraced. As quickly as she could diplomatically do so, she let her arms fall from his shoulders and stepped back.

Bellamy cracked a small smile. “It is good to see you, Clarke. Honestly.” Hope tinged his voice as he asked, “How many people did you bring with you? Where were you?”

“Only me,” Clarke said, flatly. She looked around, frowning. Wait just a whole damned minute.

Even as Bellamy’s shoulders slumped and Octavia and Raven grew somber, Clarke barked, her voice raised, “Finn made it here, didn’t he? Where is he?”

Clarke had never wanted an answer to be so different before as she did now. She barely restrained herself from hopping on her feet as she chanted in her mind, Please let me be wrong please let me be wrong please let this just be a totally fucked-up dream I will wake up from…

“He left, Clarke. He left to go look for you,” echoed Bellamy's voice in her ears.

Clarke felt her face go cold as she swayed on her feet, the news slamming at her like a punch to her gut. She dimly felt Raven's and Octavia's arms grabbing for her, holding her up.

If she didn’t find him – and fast…

She would not, could not, stand the thought of killing him again.

Not even for Lexa.

Her stance straightened as she steadied herself, Raven and Octavia letting go as she did. Her jaw set as she stared off into the distance at the forest surrounding Camp Jaha.

But now, Clarke Griffin knew exactly where and when she was.

And she’d just gotten nature’s biggest-ever second wind.

It was time to make things right.

Chapter Text

Clarke worried her lip for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. Should she just cut straight to the chase and take her friends to go after Finn right away? She dimly recalled Octavia saying the previous time that it was likely that Finn went to Lincoln’s village. If they got going right away and pressed hard, they might get there in time.

And Murphy’s with him, too! she realized. A pang of guilt went through her as she realized she’d left Murphy behind at Polis in that other world. Even a useless jerk like him didn’t deserve to be stuck next to Ontari. She hoped he’d been smart enough to get out while the getting was good.

But then Mom— Clarke’s shoulders slumped. Last time, Abby had gotten pretty overprotective and refused to countenance a search party for Finn, to the point of barring anyone from leaving Camp Jaha. In retrospect, her behavior had been understandable, since she hadn’t really gotten to see how the 100 teenagers had changed in their time on the ground, especially after a harrowing battle that had cost almost thirty of them their lives, which added to the cost already paid by almost twenty more in the days leading up to the dropship battle.

She still had to tell her mother. Having Abby be worried sick if Clarke up and disappeared, without even touching base with her about Mount Weather and other things, might trigger another search party blundering around and inflaming things even more than Finn might still do if he got to Lincoln’s village. Clarke rubbed her face and looked at her friends, who looked at her with somber expressions. “We need to find Finn and Murphy,” she declared, “But we can’t just run out of here without a plan. At least let’s go talk to my mother, see if we can get her help.”

The foursome marched (as fast as Raven’s walk could take them, at any rate) to the large council chamber – or what was left of it. At the doorway, before they knocked, Bellamy lightly grasped Clarke’s shoulder. “Are we okay?” he wondered.

How can a twenty-three year old get such a lost-little-boy look, marvelled Clarke, almost wanting to chuckle bitterly out loud. No wonder he dumped all over me at Arkadia. No Clarkie security blanket for him to run to when things got bad. I need to find him a girlfriend, stat.

But still, this Bellamy was not that Bellamy, and he deserved some kind of explanation. She could also use it to reiterate the danger of Mount Weather, come to think of it. She briefly clasped his upper arm as she spoke. “Yeah. Um, about outside – when I escaped Mount Weather and came across Anya, we ended up dropping into a … carriage, I guess. It had all these dead bodies in it for the Reapers.”

Shudders went around the group, and Clarke let her hand drop as she continued. “It was horrifying, Bellamy. Trust me on this. We – I still don’t really know how Anya and I managed to get away; we were just plain lucky to get away from the Mountain Men and the Reapers both. And when you were walking towards me I just had this horrific flashback to a Reaper coming at me, just for a second, but it threw me pretty badly anyway.”

Bellamy grimaced.

Clarke said softly, “It wasn’t your fault.” At least, she temporized, not in the way he thinks. It wasn’t his fault I come from the future and saw what Pike twisted him into.

Raven, a bit taken aback still, raised her eyebrows. “That’s pretty impressive, though, escaping them like that.”

Octavia nodded in agreement, upon which Raven raised her hand to bang on the door leading into the chamber. Sinclair opened it, greeting them all as he ushered them inside. Cables dangled from the ceiling and the only thing that remained standing in the poorly-lit room was the hexagonal table with a circle in the center. Her mother was there as well, and Sinclair went to briefly speak to her. Upon seeing that the teens had entered with him, she nodded at the man, her voice rising just enough to be heard near the end. “… and come back as soon as they’ve talked to me.”

“Yes, Clarke?” asked Abby.

“I don’t remember how much I told you last night, Mom, but there’s a lot of things you need to know,” urged Clarke.

“Okay. Take it from the beginning,” her mother said just as the click of the door told them Sinclair had left the room.

Clarke related what she knew from her past – that there were definitely people in Mount Weather, that they were extremely susceptible to radiation and to treat the symptoms they were capturing Grounders and bleeding them to get fresh blood, and that they could somehow make and control the Reapers as well.

She chanced a glance around. Raven’s face twisted in disgust; Octavia’s jaw had dropped slightly in shock. Even Bellamy’s jaw was clenched. Her mother lowered her gaze and took a deep breath, centering herself. Unbidden, Clarke remembered her mother’s medical admonition: Treat the patient, do no harm…

How offensive her mother found that she didn’t know, for Abby simply ordered, “Continue.”

Clarke didn’t think she’d done anything that could possibly have affected Mount Weather, so she felt she was safe in her assumptions in saying, “There’s forty-eight – well, forty-seven now that I’m here – of us in there. So far none of us has been hurt, and I think it will stay that way for a while.”

Her mother nodded, acknowledging that statement.

Clarke continued, “But do you know Finn and Murphy are gone? They took off to look for me, probably the others too, but you know the Grounders don’t have us. We need to get them back, Mom.”

Abby looked skeptical. “Kane is already out thinking he needs to negotiate for your return. We’ll have to send two search parties for them, and we just can’t spread our resources too thin.”

“Mom,” pleaded Clarke, “listen to me! Finn is going to do something so stupid it’s going to screw things up with the Grounders.” To her friends, she said, “Finn and Murphy took guns with them, didn’t they?”

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah.”

Clarke reached out, grasping her mother’s arms. “Look, you might not think Finn is that dangerous, but – I know him and Raven knows him. And one thing we both know is that he doesn’t think sometimes.” Clarke briefly turned to Raven, who nodded in agreement. “He gets an idea in his head and he just won’t realize it’s a really stupid idea. When he came down with us, he was still Raven’s boyfriend, and I didn’t know about it when he and I kind of got together. He thought he could get away without the consequences until Raven landed in the pod.”

Clarke took a breath, releasing her mother again. “That time the worst that happened was things got kind of awkward for a while between the three of us. This time, he could really mess things up between us and the Grounders. We’ve got to stop him, even if it’s just me, Bellamy and Octavia going!”

Her mother still didn’t look convinced. “They’re just two boys. Kane is going to try and find one of their leaders.”

Clarke wanted to scream. She forced calm on herself, gazing into her mother’s eyes as she did so. “Mom, Kane might be stuck-up and all that, but he’s not gonna do something impulsive. The worst that happens with Kane is a wasted trip. You won’t need a search party for him.”

“They could still kill him,” Abby noted. “You know that.”

Octavia broke in, “If they killed so randomly like that, Lincoln would’ve killed me the first chance he got! Plus, Nyko and Indra let me go earlier.”

Before Bellamy could open his mouth and torpedo the discussion, Clarke butted in. “Mom, as of right now, we might still be able to get a truce or an armistice eventually even if Kane doesn’t get anything accomplished this time. We killed – I don’t know – hundreds, maybe? Of their soldiers at the dropship. That’s got to have rocked them back just enough that maybe we can negotiate and try to stop killing each other. But if Finn screws it all up—”

“All right, all right! I’ll consider that.” Abby rubbed her forehead, frowning slightly, before she looked up at the group. “Is there anything else, Clarke? I have to convene a meeting with my advisers to discuss all this.”

Clarke took a deep breath, preparing to fly by the seat of her pants. Her only saving grace was that nobody else in the room had ever been in Mount Weather. She nodded and said, “I think Farm Station made it.”

Everybody gasped. “You can’t be serious!” blurted Bellamy.

“I wouldn’t allege Clarke is lying,” said Abby warningly, “but this is hard to believe, considering we have had no luck making contact with any other stations. Is that why you thought Pike might be the Chancellor?” she said to Clarke.

“Yeah,” muttered Clarke, “I got a bit muddled up after I woke up. I don’t know why I thought that was even true.” If her plan worked out, that man would never be Chancellor – never be so hardened and so xenophobic that by sheer force of personality he could marshal all of Arkadia into refighting a war that Clarke and Lexa had tried to end before it got started.

“Anyway,” proclaimed Clarke, “Like I said I did some sneaking around Mount Weather before I found my way out past those cages where they lock up the Grounders. And I saw some things I’m sure they didn’t want us to see. The maps they gave us were missing their high security areas, but I managed to find at least one of them.” Clarke scratched her head, trying to appear to be recollecting where she had been. “Um, there’s – there’s this room – I guess it’s like what one of the Ark’s security centers might’ve been. It had computer screens and maps. I overheard them saying something about an ID from a radio beacon which was going dead but was signalling the Morse code for F-A-R-M, way north of here. And I just managed to spot the map before I had to get out of there.”

In reality, Clarke knew, their internal video surveillance was good enough they would’ve caught her. She just hoped nobody started wondering how convenient her story was.

Abby, stunned, muttered, “This changes things.”

Clarke nodded vigorously, pressing her case once more. “Mom, this is another reason why we need a negotiated truce with the Grounders. We can’t get our people from Mount Weather without their help or our people from Farm Station unless we get safe passage!”

“All right. As I said, I will consider this,” said Abby. “One last thing; show me on a map where you think Farm Station is.”

Clarke peered at the map, trying to orient herself from Mount Weather’s location. She had never actually gotten a good reference to Farm Station’s location, only that it had been in Azgeda territory for three months and that it was winter when they landed. Giving it her best shot, claiming that her glimpse of the “map on the computer screen” had been really brief, she stabbed her finger roughly at the southern edge of what she remembered was Ice Nation land.

“That’s got to be three or four days away on foot!” exclaimed Abby. “I’m going to call a meeting right away. You four, please wait outside. I’ll tell you what we’ve decided as soon as the meeting breaks up.”

With that, they were back out in the hallway going to the council chamber as Sinclair stuck his head back in before taking off to gather Byrne and the others. Raven exclaimed, “Farm Station? For real? Monty’s gonna be thrilled his parents made it!”

Octavia grinned. “He could use the good news, for sure!”

After that, they fell silent, the mood growing pensive as they waited to find out what the news would be. Hopefully, thought Clarke, she had changed things enough to at least get permission right away instead of needing to sneak away and worrying her mother needlessly.

But if not—

No.

Finn would be caught before he could kill eighteen grounders. Clarke would stop at nothing to make that change happen.

Chapter Text

Clarke, anxious for a distraction as the meeting inside the council chamber dragged on, had asked Bellamy to tell her what happened. Of course, she already knew how unhinged Finn had gotten, but she needed to hear it again in case she missed any detail and so Bellamy wouldn’t wonder how she’d known Finn had killed a Grounder in cold blood. After Bellamy’s story trailed off, silence descended for a bit more, punctuated only by Raven occasionally stepping around, trying to help her leg work better.

Some minutes later, Octavia, leaning against the wall opposite the council chamber door, was biting her lip. Clarke, who was beside her, noticed this and wondered, “What’s wrong?”

Octavia muttered, “It’s Lincoln. I’m afraid they’ve got him and I can’t stop wishing Indra and I had found him.”

Damn it, she’s right, Clarke realized. In that other world – and sadly, this one too – Lincoln had been stolen away and made into a Reaper. She pursed her lips and looked away. If only I could’ve gone back earlier. I could’ve helped keep Raven from getting shot by Murphy, warned Octavia to keep a closer eye on Lincoln. I could’ve maybe even saved Wells…

Luckily, before Clarke could spiral down the path of what-ifs and if-onlies in self-recrimination, the creaking of the hinges made her jerk her head up. Her breath quickened as she waited for the word to come from her mother, who was walking towards the group.

“All right, Clarke,” announced Abby, “we’ve decided to try and gather as much intelligence about Mount Weather as we can, and we’ll prepare to eventually gather in the Farm Station people. We’ll also trust your instincts about Kane, so we can spare the people to send a search party for Finn and Murphy – but – you’re not going, Clarke.”

“What?!” blurted Clarke. “I have to do this, Mom!” Please, I have to save Finn! Clarke’s hands clenched into fists at her side as she refused to let the sense of looming failure overwhelm her.

“I just got you back!” Abby shot back. “I can’t lose you again, Clarke.”

“Do you or any of the search party know where Finn’s probably gone?” Bellamy broke in.

Clarke jerked her head to her left, seeing Bellamy standing a few feet away, his arms crossed as he frowned at her mother. A memory bloomed forth of another version of this Bellamy, standing in nearly the same spot, pointedly asking Abby why she was abandoning Finn and Murphy. Clarke blinked and swallowed hard, trying to shake the seeing-double déjà vu feeling she was getting.

Bellamy continued, “Clarke, Raven, O and I know this place better than you do and you know it, Chancellor.” Unfazed by Abby’s glare, Bellamy went on. “So give us a map, let us go along with the searchers!”

Octavia was nodding along as well. “I have an idea about which way they went, and I already know a bit of the Grounder language, too. You’ll need me for that if nothing else.” Octavia ducked her head, her cheeks turning a bit red. “I kind of made Nyko teach me some words I didn’t know already.”

Bellamy nearly bridled at Octavia insisting on going along, noticed Clarke, but he kept his mouth shut. Good; maybe he’ll realize this protective-as-hell-brother act is getting kind of old. Last time he actually surprised O by giving her a backpack.

Clarke stared hard at her mother, daring her to forbid them again.

Abby opened her mouth slightly, then paused and took a breath. As she clamped her jaw shut she began pacing back and forth in front of Clarke, rubbing her forehead. After a few moments of pacing, Clarke spoke again. “Mom,” she urged softly. “We’ve changed. We’re not the helpless kids on the Ark anymore who were only good for taking up space in prison, or as guinea pigs to prove Earth is survivable. You know I’ve had to do things—we’ve all done things—”

Clarke choked up, unable to talk as her insides clenched tightly. She took a deep shuddering breath, shoving the memories of death – so much death – three hundred Grounders, three hundred Mountain people, three hundred more Grounders; Lexa… LEXA! – into the farthest corner of her mind as she could.

Abby looked up and gently held Clarke’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t have had to do those things to survive; that’s what we should’ve been there to do so you wouldn’t have had that burden, Clarke. You're just kids!”

Clarke let out a resigned sigh. “I know, Mom. I get it. But it’s too late now; we haven’t been just kids since you sent us down here. So let us do what we’ve become good at! The longer you and I argue the more of a chance Finn has to mess things up. He’s not in his right mind, but if he sees me out there, he’ll probably cool off and we can get him home safe. Plus, Anya’s already dead out there, and Finn killing any more Grounders will just make it that much harder to get a truce.”

Abby let her arms fall and closed her eyes in deep thought.

She sighed once.

She rubbed her forehead.

She opened her eyes and through clenched teeth, declared, “All right. Clarke – you, Bellamy, Octavia – you can go with a map, rations, and two of the best and fastest people we’ve got, who will have guns. No arguments; it’s that, or not at all.”

Relief surged through Clarke as the tension left her shoulders. She tried to restrain her grin as she said, “Thank you, Mom. You have no idea how much this means, believe me!”

“Just stay safe and don’t make me regret this. I won’t rest easily until you’re safely back in this camp, you understand me?” Abby reached out, pulling Clarke into a heartfelt embrace. Clarke reciprocated, throwing her arms around her mother.

“I promise,” Clarke vowed. She and her mother held each other for a long moment before releasing each other.

Any further conversation was halted as Abby was called away to medical for surgery; she quickly gave orders to Byrne, who was clearly less than enthusiastic about outfitting the teenagers for their journey. But very soon afterwards, the three of them were at the main gate, standing behind two well-armed security people with nightscope-oufitted weapons and enough clips to probably take out a gang of Reapers. Octavia reached up, re-checking that the sword on her back was within easy reach, while Bellamy and Clarke adjusted their backpacks.

Raven, stumping up next to them, held out a couple of short thin plastic pen-like devices. Clarke took one, with Bellamy taking the other. She peered at it. “What’re these?”

Raven grinned. “Directional flashlights. Wick and I were scavenging through stuff we’ve been recovering from the Ark, and I found a couple of these LED probes I used to use. Just had to find a couple of boosted power packs, swap out the red LED for a white one, boom. Bright light in the palm of your hand.” Raven pointed at a little nub jutting out from the cylindrical device. “Push that when you need light, but don’t look directly into it.”

“Awesome. Thanks!” Clarke beamed.

Octavia shifted on her feet. “We better get going. Finn’s very likely going to end up at Lincoln’s village.”

“Okay, no more time to talk, Raven. See you back here,” Clarke said.

Raven nodded and stepped back. “Stay safe, you guys!” She raised her hand in a brief farewell, her expression growing somber.

As the group of five left Camp Jaha, Clarke announced to the group, “We need to go as fast as we can. I mean it – as few breaks as possible, and if we have to, we go through the night.”

One of the men looked like he wanted to say something, but shut his mouth under Clark’s intense gaze. He closed his mouth and nodded. The second guard nodded as well, and the fivesome strode forward, their paces eating up the distance as they went into the forest.

Even with the faster pace and new sense of urgency driving Clarke as the hours passed, night still fell even as Octavia confirmed that they were making good progress to Lincoln’s village. Clarke pulled out her improvised pen-light and clicked the button. An intense white beam shot forth, illuminating the area in front of them. Bellamy’s light, added to hers, ensured that there was no loss of daytime visibility.

Clarke said, “I know the lights will mess with our night vision and make any camouflage useless, but visibility is more important right now. Finn and Murphy need to know we’re coming from way off.” To Octavia, she asked, “How far are we away now?”

Octavia looked around, peering at the trees, mentally comparing them with what she likely remembered from her other journeys in the area as she cross-checked with the hastily-drawn map Bellamy still had, then with the better topographical map given them by Byrne. “I think we’re maybe half an hour, an hour away?”

“When can we call out for Finn and Murphy and know they will hear us?” wondered Clarke.

“The trail will get wider where it crosses with another one and then slopes downhill to this big statue; that’s close enough, I think,” replied Octavia. “The Grounders use the trails around here to gather wood and fruit, but they don’t like going too far in case a Reaper gets out this way.”

“Got it. We’ll stay quiet, but let’s keep going as fast as we can,” Clarke decided. She swept her light around for a moment, stopping as she noticed something: the clearing just off to one side – wasn’t that..?

It was, she realized. Where Bellamy and I had that heart to heart. Maybe we still can sometime, she thought.

For now, though—Clarke set her jaw. The first big change was within her grasp. She would not fail!

Chapter Text

Clarke’s chest heaved with the force of her exertion as she kept striding on the slow uphill rise – a rise she began to remember from her previous trip to Lincoln’s village. Her legs had a dull ache from the long steps she took, trying to eat up the kilometers as fast as she could. The two guards were behind her, and Bellamy was bringing up the rear. Octavia, taking the lead and just managing to not let Clarke overtake her in her haste, was holding Clarke’s flashlight. The group had decided to only use one after Clarke realized they didn’t know how long Raven’s superbatteries might last.

Their heavy steps and intense breathing were probably like a siren going off for who knew far around, but luckily, the worst they had come across was a kind of mutated rabbit that looked more predator than prey; it had given them all the evil eye, then leaped off into the bushes, leaving only the rustling of leaves as evidence it had ever been there.

Finally, they were on the straight high path that sloped away to the left and right, and Clarke let out a pained sigh as she half-stumbled to a halt to get her breath and bearings. “Gotta stop for a sec,” she gasped, her breath fogging in the cool night air.

Octavia, hearing this, turned back to face Clarke and leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees as she did so. She let out a long, low sigh. “I didn’t think I’d be able to keep up with you, honestly!”

Low chuckles from Bellamy and the guards got Clarke’s attention. Bellamy was casually leaning against a sturdy tree, seemingly unaffected by the intensity of the journey, but the fogging around his mouth and nose told the truth. The guards, a bit older but fitter as well, were still breathing pretty heavily. One nodded. “You could give us a run for your money, there. Ever thought about joining up?”

Clarke let out a low, pained chuckle. “Sorry; working security’s not exactly on my to-do list.” She stretched, trying to work the kinks out of her back. “Are we close, O?”

Octavia, standing up straight as well, nodded. “Just a few more meters that way, then we can double back and we’ll see the statue.”

With that, they resumed their journey, and sure enough, a second trail, sloping down and backwards for a bit, spiked off the trail they’d been travelling on. The last time, Clarke remembered, it had been broad daylight. This time, only the steady beam of Octavia’s penlight and some moonlight lit the way, giving a bit of a claustrophobic air to the area as they stepped cautiously, doubling back once more.

The tall, stern shadow of the statue of Abraham Lincoln (at least, Clarke dimly remembered something like that from her pre-War history classes) loomed in the night. Octavia, having gotten her sword out, pointed. “That way.”

In the indirect light, Clarke could see Octavia’s pale, wan face as her jaw quivered. “The Reapers usu-usually don’t come this far, but…” in a whisper, she finished, “they got Lincoln around here.”

Bellamy came up next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. Octavia looked up at her brother, nodded once and pressed her lips together. “Let’s keep going. We can call out for Finn and Murphy now,” she said, her words clipped and her voice tight.

She doesn’t want to cry in front of the guards, realized Clarke. Last time, Octavia’d allowed herself the luxury of having a small breakdown because it had just been her, Clarke and Bellamy. Clarke looked away, not sure if Octavia would feel better if she could let out how she felt or if she had a way to compartmentalize for the time being.

She walked ahead, calling, “Finn! Murphy! It’s Clarke!”

Any moment now they would come across the village; they called out every minute or so, pressing onward with renewed haste. Bellamy, in the lead with the flashlight, caught an orange glow in the distance. “There! The village!”

Clarke’s heart raced. Maybe there was still time!

As they went up another incline, Clarke’s heart began to sink. The orange glow was too bright, too intense for just sentry lighting. And they could hear loud, panicky voices bellowing in Trigedasleng, and then a short burst of gunfire.

“SHIT!” bellowed Clarke. “RUN! NOW! FINN! GODDAMNIT, I AM HERE!”

They barrelled along, heedless now of anything but getting to the village. Tears stung Clarke’s eyes as she raced – raced faster than she’d ever run. She couldn’t be too late; she couldn’t!

They were on the straightaway now, and could see fire billowing up from one hut; the others were as yet untouched. Clarke hollered, “Finn Collins! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE NOW!”

“Clarke?!” Hesitant, unsure. It was Murphy. He bellowed, “Finn! Don’t shoot anyone. Clarke’s here!”

At that moment, they thundered into the small town’s center and screeched to a halt. A group of Grounders were at the far end, hands raised. Finn, his gun in one hand aimed at the group, had a grey-haired man kneeling in front of him, his other hand gripping the man’s shoulder. Murphy, his gun down, was jabbing at Finn’s shoulder. “Let that guy go. Now! Clarke’s here, you idiot!”

Finn’s hand fell from the man’s shoulder and he turned slowly, facing Clarke. He stared, blinking as though he wasn’t sure she was really there. His gun was held loosely in his left hand, thankfully with the barrel pointing off to one side.

Clarke hissed behind her, “Put your guns away! Every weapon, away!”

Bellamy muttered back, “Now? Here?!”

“Do it,” snarled Clarke. “We’re scaring them more, on top of what Finn’s done!”

She heard the slight scratching of metal against leather and the clicks of gun safeties, and let out some of the breath she’d been holding though her heart still hammered against her chest. Her hands out, she stepped forward. “Finn? It’s me, Clarke.”

“C-Clarke,” Finn choked out. “I-I thought they had you!”

Clarke would later swear she could feel her body thudding with each beat of her racing heart, that everybody around could hear it. But at that moment in time, all she did was shake her head and step closer, almost within Finn’s reach. “No, Finn. The Mountain Men did. But I’m here, I’m safe! Here, take my hand.”

She took a cautious step closer, not wanting Finn to get panicked. He was staring glassily at her, and he was breathing fast – too fast; at least he’d lowered his gun all the way now to his side. His right hand shook as he took her extended hand, and as their hands clasped, Finn let out a small sob, falling into Clarke’s embrace. She heaved a sigh of relief and murmured, “Finn, you’re safe now. Come on home with us, okay?” Already, she could feel her heart beginning to slow, the tension easing a bit as the danger seemed to pass.

Finn’s shoulders shook as he held Clarke; she rubbed his back absently, looking around at the villagers, who also seemed to slowly relax and shift slightly on their feet. Meanwhile, the Grounder who Finn had forced to his knees cautiously got up and staggered away.

Octavia called out, “Osir laik Skaikru, en osir nou na gon yo raun!” She paused, then called out again, in English, “We are not here to fight you!”

A tall bearded man stepped forward and called, his voice rising in half-disbelief, “Okteivia?”

Octavia gasped in relief. “Naikou! You’re here!” She turned to the group and said in a lower voice, “That’s Nyko, Lincoln’s friend and brother.”

The man said in a deep, gruff voice, “Who is the girl?”

“Em laik Klark kom Skaikru,” Octavia introduced.

Clarke, by now slowly disengaging from Finn as he came back to himself, snagged his gun and handed it off to one of the guards. She cautiously waved at the tall man. Movement caught her eye, and off to the side she saw Murphy, distinctly relieved, stepping back and clicking the safety on as he slung his gun over his shoulder.

Nyko’s voice took on a slightly warmer timbre. “Thank you for stopping this boy from doing more damage to our village. No-one has been killed or hurt.” Nyko’s voice then grew stern. “However, he has burned our food, and for that, jus drein jus daun.”

Clarke’s blood went cold. Jus drein jus daun had been the highest Grounder law for almost a century. Blood must have blood; a wrong done meant recompense paid in the same measure. Did that mean…?

Clarke pleaded, “Don’t kill him! Please!” Clarke’s legs began to quiver.

Nyko stared, taken aback. “The punishment is not that severe, Clarke. But he must work for one of our farms and help bring food to us, as repayment. We cannot hold him here in our village since we have so few warriors now. If you will agree to this punishment and keep him from fleeing, you are free to go and I will advise our Heda of this.”

Clarke nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes, of course! We won’t let him run away.” To Finn, she urged, “Tell them you understand.”

Finn, his eyes seeming more focused now, nodded jerkily. He spoke, his voice shaking and jaw quivering as he did so. “I understand.”

Nyko looked around at the group of Arkers, his face stern in the flickering light from the burning food storage hut. He said, “Then you are free to leave. And do not return here until our Heda has been informed.”

A light rain began to drizzle down. As the rain began to dampen the fire, so too did it seem to sap her energy. Utter bone-weariness settled over Clarke as she turned, along with the rest of her group, to take the long journey home. She closed her eyes and leaned against a tree, just for a moment, as she let out a shuddering breath. I did it. I really, really did it! I saved Finn’s life!

The slow burning satisfaction of victory rose within Clarke Griffin as she resumed walking. It would be the first of several hard-fought ones to come over the old timeline.

Chapter Text

There had been very little conversation on the way back from the village, and Clarke was finding it harder and harder to avoid trying to walk with her eyes closed. As the black starry sky took on just a hint of dark blue in the twilight under the drizzling rain, one of the guards called a brief halt, indicating a nearby clearing. She staggered leadenly in the direction he’d pointed.

From her vague impressions, she decided the clearing might well have been the one she, Bellamy and Octavia had stayed at in her previous lifetime; a central pit that looked like people used it for a fireplace seemed familiar. At the moment, however, her eyes wanted to do nothing more than just rest, and as she looked around, Bellamy was blinking rapidly, his jaw set in grim determination. Octavia wasn’t even bothering with the beginnings of her warrior persona, though, and let out a loud yawn as she just barely avoided colliding with Clarke’s shoulder before stumbling to a halt at one end of the clearing.

Clarke took a spot near Octavia and let her pack slide off her shoulders, sighing in relief as its weight left her back to fall to the ground with a muted thump. Octavia, having done the same, grinned wanly at Clarke as she dug around in her pack for a thin blanket. Clarke began digging in her own pack to find her blanket; once she had it out, she gave it a short flick to quickly unfold it in the air before letting it settle down on the ground.

She stifled a yawn as she sat down and looked around. Bellamy was meticulously (well, as much as his tiredness clearly allowed) gathering a few pieces of wood that might have escaped the rain. The guards moved to help him build up a small fire. Meanwhile, Murphy and Finn, now flagging from the loss of the adrenalin that must have been flooding them hours before, didn’t even bother with the niceties as each went and pressed their backs to a tree, then slumped down to a sitting position. Their eyes were both closed and their heads slumped forwards a few moments later.

Octavia muttered, “They got the right idea. ‘Night. Or morning, anyway.” She was lying on her side, one arm under her head as a makeshift pillow as she let her eyes flutter shut.

As he poured a little oil on the wood, Bellamy called over to Clarke, “I’ll be taking first watch. I won’t sleep well anyway, not ‘till we’re back at the camp.” He got a flint lighter from one of the guards’ emergency kits and lit a small stick before poking it in between the gaps in the larger wood pieces.

Clarke nodded at him, then composed herself for sleep, lying on her side. A few meters away, a tiny flame began glowing from the pile of wood in the fire pit. She closed her eyes, letting the rustling around her die away into nothingness.

Burning yellow light surrounded her, consuming her as she thrashed in desperation. The water around her offered no relief from the hard radiation blasting through her, taking her apart piece by piece—

Clarke’s eyes flew open as she jerked up into a sitting position. Her chest heaved as rain and sweat covered her brow, her harsh breaths loud amid the near total silence around her. She looked around wildly, barely taking in the forest around her. Her breathing began to slow as the awareness of cool air surrounding her amid an overcast day dawned upon her. She patted herself down hurriedly and let the tension drain from her as she counted all her body parts intact and whole.

Clarke swiped her clothed forearm across her brow, then brushed her hands through her hair to shake off any leaves that had settled on her head over the last few hours. She looked up and saw the grey sky; several hours had passed. Bellamy, contrary to his promise, was now lightly snoring as he sat up against a nearby log, his legs splayed out in front of him. The fire, which he’d clearly been trying to keep built up, was now mostly smoldering red embers.

She sat up, crossing her legs as she surveyed the quiet surroundings. The green trees, tall and thin in every direction, lent a deceptive peace to the area. At least, thought Clarke as her gaze slid over to Finn, she had made it easier in one respect to get the alliance she knew they needed, all the more so because from what little she knew from her old life, Pike and Farm Station had basically spent over three months in a state of siege the likes of which hadn’t been anywhere as bad at the dropship – and even that level of paranoia and anxiety at not knowing what would happen next had been bad enough.

Could she and her fellow delinquents, she wondered, have become as hardened and as inflexible as Farm Station had become? Been so unwilling to recognize a hand extended in peace they would rather go to war because it felt easier, more comfortable, safer?

Clarke let out a low groan as she looked skyward again for a moment. The grounders had certainly proven that some people would rather repeat old ways and old customs even when they were no longer any good. Titus had insisted on jus drein jus daun almost to the bitter end, before even he had conceded that Lexa’s radical break set a precedent for his own. A skaifleimkipa, marvelled Clarke as she shook her head, chuckling in sardonic amusement.

But now—she gritted her teeth. Total victory and total peace were so, so tantalizingly close she could feel it. With what she knew – an old quotation from one of her pre-War classes came to mind: give me a pivot and I will move the world!

But the early stages of the tentative alliance would not be in her hands. That, she knew, was up to Kane; she prayed and hoped that Lexa wouldn’t order Camp Jaha to pack up and leave now that Finn hadn’t gone mad. At least she now knew she and her mother could cure a Reaper, so when Bellamy and Octavia got hold of Lincoln again they could prove their worth.

Any further thought was halted as Bellamy woke with a sharp grunt. He looked around in momentary panic before subsiding, his eyes staying on Clarke. His mouth quirked in a small half-smile as he drawled, “Morning, princess.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at him. “And to you, too, prince. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you slept when you were supposed to be keeping an eye on things.”

Bellamy grimaced.

“We’re only human,” Clarke reminded him.

“Maybe, but we could’ve been attacked,” Bellamy replied as he stood in a half-crouch, brushing himself off before sitting on the log he’d been resting against. He peered at the surroundings, sweeping his gaze all around. Satisfied that nobody was coming, he said, his voice growing a bit softer, “Last time we were together this long was at the dropship.”

Clarke nodded, remembering how the train of conversation had gone before. She shrugged and said half-heartedly, “And I had to close the door.”

“It had to be done,” Bellamy agreed.

Clarke sat up, her back straight as she frowned at Bellamy. “But did it ‘have to be done’ when you let those two go off with loaded guns?” She pointed at Finn and Murphy, still insensate as they slept. She’d called him out (sort of) last time, too, but she’d been naïve enough to think they all were still basically good. But this time around, she’d already seen Finn’s descent into madness and Bellamy’s inability to see what was practically in front of his face.

To his credit, Bellamy flushed a bit and looked away for a moment. But this was still all too familiar. Another Bellamy was in front of her, sarcastic and defensive, mockingly calling her Wanheda as though she thought she deserved the title, accusing her of turning her back on her own people.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her teeth as she tried not to shout at this version of Bellamy. After a deliberate breath, forcing calm on herself as she looked back up at him, she remembered some things from her old world: some of Finn’s and Bellamy’s admissions in the lead-up to the grounder build-up near Camp Jaha, and her mother telling her a bit about the debriefing of all the teenagers, about things Bellamy had said and not said.

“Bellamy,” she called. At his look, she continued. “I know you want to stand up and do the right thing, but it’s not even close when you don’t follow through. In the bunker, did you say something like ‘you’ll have to go through me, because this would be an execution not a battle’?”

Bellamy’s eyes went wide. He whispered, “How could you know about that?”

Without missing a beat, Clarke shot back, “Because I know you. You love to talk a tough game but when things don’t go smoothly, you throw up your hands and say ‘not my problem’. Remember Raven’s radio? Same thing. You had a responsibility and you ducked it.”

He leaned forward. Through gritted teeth, he retorted, “That’s not fair! I couldn’t have known—”

“No, you couldn’t have known the Ark was about to kill off three hundred people to save the rest because they didn’t think the Earth was survivable,” said Clarke in a tired voice. More sharply, she said, “But you still owed it to them and to us to open lines of communication immediately. Instead you worried about Bellamy Blake and someone else had to handle that mess – namely, us, who wasted time finding that radio, and the Council, who had to ask three hundred good people to volunteer to kill themselves.”

Bellamy’s jaw quivered in tension or anger; Clarke didn’t know or really care.

She went on, her voice tight and controlled. “So, now you’re down here and in that bunker. You’re saying people would have to go through you if they wanted to kill that grounder. Finn called your bluff and did it. Did you do anything about that? Obviously not, even though he challenged your authority right then and there. You just ducked it because, again, someone else and not Bellamy Blake would suffer for that decision!” By now, Clarke was nearly spitting her words even as she tried not to wake up the others.

Clarke had had enough and sprang to her feet, grabbing up her blanket and vigorously shaking off all the accumulated dirt. She folded it up in quick, furious strokes and shoved it in her pack before putting it back on and adjusting the straps so they rested easily on her shoulders.

“What do you want me to do, then?” Bellamy’s low, weary voice made her look up from her concentration on her pack. He was standing, his arms out and his hands open. His lost, unsettled face matched the plaintive tone in his voice.

(You left me.

The culmination, in three words, of Bellamy’s refusal to grasp that he needed to own his responsibility.)

Managing to not roll her eyes, Clarke stared at Bellamy evenly. “Just—” she sighed and began again. “Just own your shit, Bellamy. That’s all I ask. Next time, it could make all the difference.”

Bellamy let his hands fall to his side and nodded. “All right. Fine,” he growled. He busied himself packing up and kicking some dirt over the fire.

Clarke clapped her hands loudly and bellowed, “Wake up, everybody! We gotta get a move on, okay?”

As rustling noises rose from people slowly waking up, Clarke rubbed her forehead. Whatever heart to heart she’d meant to have with Bellamy this time around, it had definitely come out a lot harsher than she’d intended, she realized.

By late afternoon, they made it back at the camp. On the way up to the gate, Clarke warned the group, “Anyone who doesn’t know should know my mother is the acting Chancellor right now.”

Once inside the camp, Clarke kept a firm grip on Finn’s left shoulder. Octavia stood to her left, with Murphy to Finn’s right, and Bellamy over on Octavia’s left. The two guards took up positions directly behind Finn. Her mother strode up to them, relief clearly visible on her features. She called, “You’re all back and safe!”

Clarke replied, “Have you had any more trouble from grounders?” She recalled, vaguely, that there had been some rough encounters from Trikru who were still angry about their losses in the battle at the dropship.

She spotted Raven ambling towards them, a bit slowly, but moving steadily. She waved briefly at the other girl, who waved back.

Abby turned, saw Raven, then turned back and shook her head. “We’ve kept patrols to within this camp.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Kane isn’t back yet, even though his two sentries returned this morning. Your instincts had better be right, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded. “I think he can do this, Mom. We need that settlement with them.” She indicated Finn and said, “But we have a problem. Finn went to Lincoln’s village and was threatening them after burning their food.”

Her mother’s lips pursed into a thin line as she stared hard at Finn, who had the good grace to look chastened. She said, “So what happened?”

“Thankfully, nobody got hurt, but they want Finn to make amends. The leader of that village – at least, I think he is – is someone named…” Clarke made a show of snapping her fingers and trying to remember, letting Octavia jump in.

“Nyko, Mrs—I mean, Chancellor. He knows me from when we tried to get Lincoln,” she offered.

“Nyko, yeah,” said Clarke. “Anyway, I guess because he already knows Octavia isn’t a threat he thinks we’re good for our word. We had to promise to hold onto him and when they want him to help harvest food at their farms, he has to go and do work for them.”

Abby’s eyebrows went up. “That seems oddly reasonable, for Grounders who’ve been after you and after us since we landed.”

Octavia took up the thread again. “Chancellor, I’ve told you I know Lincoln. He’s a good guy, okay? And Nyko is his friend, practically brothers with him. Their tribal leader is someone named Indra, and … well, it’s a long story, but I think they both kind of respect me. And I think that’s why Nyko thought he could let Finn go with us.”

Clarke considered, then nodded to herself. If Octavia hadn’t been with them, Nyko might not have been so willing to consider letting Finn go back to the camp. She had helped more than she would ever know.

Abby opened her mouth, obviously to ask what was going on, then apparently decided she was better off not knowing how Octavia got to be such an expert. To Octavia and Clarke, she asked, “And you’re sure they won’t try and kill him?”

Octavia frowned, and Clarke hastily cut in, replying, “Mom, if we can get at least a temporary truce, we can maybe ask for one of us to go with Finn and guarantee his safety. Would that help?”

Abby thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. To Finn, she said, “I’ll only ask you this once. Do you promise to stay behind the boundaries of this camp?”

Finn nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course, for sure!” He swallowed, a bit nervously.

Clarke let go of his shoulder, letting him smooth his coat out and regain a bit of dignity.

Abby’s stern warning got Finn’s attention. “You are hereby confined to the camp boundaries and you are not allowed to leave, except by prearrangement with the Grounders. If you break these conditions I will have you put in confinement.” She looked left and right and called, “Guards? Please escort Mr. Collins for debriefing with me in council chambers or another suitable room. One of you is to stay with him, the other, back to me to escort me to him.”

With that, Finn was led away after being allowed a few private moments with Raven, after which she returned to the group plus Abby.

Abby’s smile didn’t quite return yet as she looked at Murphy. “John Murphy, because you left the camp without authorization I would normally have you confined under arrest for a day. However, I believe the pardon you got can be extended to this incident, but neither I nor Kane will be as forgiving of future incidents.”

Murphy had the good sense to look somber at that pronouncement.

Abby’s smile now did return as she eyed the rest of the group. “I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is to know you’re all safe. We’ll have to get you all debriefed about what you’ve seen outside and what happened with Finn, and most importantly, what is happening at—”

Clarke said in unison with her mother, “—Mount Weather.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the day passed with considerably less tension than Clarke remembered from the old timeline, probably because while people were anxious about the Grounders, the realization that Finn had lit the fuse of a possible powderkeg wasn’t there this time. Abby debriefed Clarke last, satisfying herself there hadn’t been any bloodshed at the village. As Clarke sat across from her mother, seated at a battered desk in the room which would one day become the Chancellor’s new permanent office, she wondered, “Mom, what would you have done if he’d killed anyone at that village? What if the Grounders wanted him for that? You know we’re just lucky they don’t know he’s already killed one Grounder.”

Clarke had found out later, in the old timeline, that the one-eyed man was an outcast, a natrona. His death was essentially ignored by all concerned, since he had already broken Grounder laws and no village held any responsibility for him. Still, that one death was bad enough, and had possibly given Finn the licence he felt he had to threaten the Grounder village (and kill eighteen more in that other world).

Abby sighed and dropped her head into her hands for a moment, rubbing her forehead with her palms. She crossed her arms and looked up at Clarke. “I’m just thankful you got to him in time, but I just can’t imagine him doing something like that. When he was sitting there, across from you, Finn looked … just ordinary. So ordinary, Clarke.”

“But?” Clarke prodded.

Abby shook her head, huffing a sigh as she leaned back in her chair. “I like to think I’d have been able to convince them to see reason. He wasn’t in his right mind from the stress; his actions were uncharacteristic, from all reports. I mean, he just shot that man with no provocation. That’s clearly atypical.”

Clarke sat up, staring at her mother evenly. “And you don’t think it would’ve looked to them like you wanted to let Finn escape the consequences of his actions by telling them he wasn’t actually responsible because of his mind? The Grounders probably aren’t much for working out what someone’s state of mind is when they committed a crime; all they’d care about is that he would’ve killed an innocent person. At least the guy he did shoot was probably some kind of thief, since we haven’t had anyone come here hollering about that.”

“Well, there’s no point arguing hypotheticals, Clarke,” said her mother with an air of finality, sitting up and preparing to escort Clarke to the door.

Clarke held up her hand. “Hold on a second, Mom. You know we had the same problem on the Ark: nobody ever cared what reason someone had. If you did something wrong you got floated, period.”

Abby began, “If this is about your father—”

“Mom, don’t.” Clarke pressed her lips together and looked away. She’d come to understand why her mother did what she did, but even so, the memory of her last few moments together with her father was flashing through her mind. “I-I’d rather not bring that up right now. It’s just we go to these extremes, us and the Grounders, sometimes.”

They both stood. As her mother came around to Clarke’s side of the desk, she swept her into an embrace, rubbing Clarke’s back. She said into Clarke’s ear, “I am sorry, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded against her mother’s shoulder, then slowly broke away from the hug, saying, “I need to get some paper. I have to draw a map of Mount Weather, plus the mines.”

As they walked to the door, her mother nodded. “All right. We need as much information as we can to make plans.”

“There is one more thing we need,” said Clarke. “Did you do what I said before you buried Anya?”

“Yes,” said Abby, “though I’m not sure what good it will do to have a piece of her hair.”

“It’s important to them. Keep it somewhere safe.” With that Clarke left, thankful she’d remembered what happened with Tris and her previous talk with Lexa.

Clarke wasted no time launching back into her plans for Mount Weather, redrawing from memory her detailed maps of the levels of Mount Weather as well as the exits to the mines. It had taken considerable effort to remember all the twists and turns she and Anya took, since those memories were both a few days and a few months old.

As she sat down at a free table near the open-air liquor still in the last few minutes of dusk, she stared at her sheets of paper (she had decided to split her maps up this time, since the mines weren’t really laid out vertically like she’d drawn them last, which was a little confusing). As she examined the various pathways into and out of the Mountain, she remembered the action plans they’d come up with to storm the Mountain last time.

As much as she hated to admit it, the plan to mass their forces by one big metal door had depended on a crucial unstated assumption: that nobody in the Mountain would attempt a divide and conquer tactic. The Sky People and the Tree People did have a common enemy, but – as Clarke had discovered to her dismay – their alliance hadn’t been strong enough to weigh against the formal bonds of the Twelve Clans.

They needed another way.

Any further thought on the matter was halted as Raven tapped the papers to get her attention. Clarke looked up and nodded a distracted greeting as Raven sat across from her, shifting her leg to get more comfortable. “Hey, Clarke,” said Raven, frowning a bit. “He’s asking for you.” She jerked her head in the direction of the Ark.

Clarke blinked as her brain switched gears. “Oh! You mean Finn – why would he want to talk to me?” A pang of guilt twinged as she realized she hadn’t exactly sought him out. Then again, seeing Finn, now with a second chance, juxtaposed against the boy who had slowly come to realize he had no good options, leaving Clarke with only one option of her own to take… well, it was enough to bend anyone’s brain.

Raven let out a snort. “You haven’t gone to see him since your mom took him away to question him.” She grew somber and leaned in close. “I talked to him for a bit in the stockade, but – I dunno, it was like he and I just had nothing to really say after I asked how he was holding up and he said fine and then I asked what he’d been doing. I had no idea he’d already killed someone, but he admitted it to me. I just – what do I say to him about something like that?”

“I wish I knew,” Clarke admitted. She sighed, then kept talking. “Another thing, Raven. I promise you, whatever he’s got in his mind about me, it’s in his head and nothing else. Him and me, we’re done. I saw the look in his eyes at the village.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “That wasn’t the Finn I knew from the dropship.”

Blood – dead Grounders – stepping back in horror at Finn’s unawareness that he’d just massacred people, his wide-eyed innocent look of relief as he stared at Clarke – I found you!

Raven’s hand on Clarke’s right arm shook her out of her reverie. Raven’s deep brown eyes seemed to bore into Clarke’s soul. “Clarke? Are you okay? You were zoning out even harder than when I was trying to get your attention before.”

Clarke reached out, covering Raven’s hand with her left hand. She gave Raven a small smile and gently squeezed the other girl’s hand. “I’m fine – mostly, anyway. I was just getting lost in all the what-ifs if we hadn’t gotten there in time. But I hope things get worked out between you two, somehow.”

Raven gave Clarke a grin and turned her hand to clasp Clarke’s left hand. “They will.” As the two let go of each other’s hands, Raven leaned in. “From what I heard, you practically saved the day up there, driving everybody so hard to get to the village!”

“I just… it was a gut feeling,” Clarke said, fumbling for an explanation that would hold up. “Like I just knew something bad would happen because Finn sometimes thinks he’s doing the right thing, but… not always.” Deliberately changing the subject, Clarke asked, “Did I ever tell you what he did on the dropship?”

Raven’s eyes widened as she slapped her forehead and moaned, “Oh, please tell me he didn’t do something incredibly stupid!”

Clarke let out a short laugh, remembering. “Well, I guess if you call not being in his seat during the trip down to Earth…”

Raven stared in bafflement. “I don’t believe it,” she breathed. She shook her head, apparently torn between shock and amusement.

“Well, look,” said Clarke as she stood. “I should probably go see what he wants. Can you stay here and hang onto these? You’re welcome to look at the plans and try to figure out how we can get inside the mountain.”

“Sure thing!” Raven grinned. “It’s not like it’s rocket science or anything.”

Clarke chuckled as she moved past Raven, clasping the other girl’s shoulder for a moment and getting a good-natured swat on the butt in return. “Careful, Raven!” she called. “I might get some ideas.”

Raven turned in her chair and wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe you should.” She stuck her tongue out and turned back to pore over the papers as Clarke began walking to the entrance to the former Alpha Station.

Clarke couldn’t quite shake the funny feeling in her stomach. Raven was undeniably beautiful, but she’d never quite made any overtures to Clarke previously – or maybe she’d just been too dense to notice any signs of attraction. She had checked Raven out a few times, but somehow things were either just never right or too much else was going on.

Thoughts of Niylah came to Clarke’s mind as she briefly consulted with a guard, who confirmed Finn had been requesting her, and accompanied her to the improvised stockade. Niylah had been good with her, but she hadn’t been Lexa. With her, it had been more like the satisfaction after scratching an itch than the heart-and-soul mutual enjoyment she and Lexa had shared.

Clarke stopped short of following that thought any further, shaking her head sharply as she came back to the immediate world around her. Finn, seated next to one of the columns in the room, had his wrists loosely bound and tied to a cord that wrapped around the column. The guard was saying, “I’m not allowed to untie him until I get orders from the Chancellor. Would you like a chair?”

Clarke nodded, and the chair, duly procured within just a few moments, was placed next to her. She looked down at the boy, suddenly so much a stranger to her. The blade plunging into him, her hand pushing it inexorably forward as the light left his eyes—

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. She could not afford to let those images affect her. They would never happen in this world.

After opening her eyes, she barked, “What did you want to see me for?”

“There’s – uh, well, there’s something you need to have,” Finn admitted. “Check my pockets, all right?”

He was still wearing the same clothes he’d had on since the day he’d left, and Clarke had to force herself to not grimace as she knelt near him and poked through the grimy coat’s pockets. She thanked whatever deities that she’d had a few days outside of Mount Weather to get used to the rank smells of the outside and indifferently washed bodies, because otherwise Finn’s smell, she was sure, would be intolerable.

Her hand, in one of the pockets, clasped a familiar strap. She gasped, pulling out her father’s watch. Clarke backed up and sat in the chair, wondering, “How did you—?”

“I wanted to find the right time to give it to you,” Finn said. “It didn’t seem right to do it while we were still getting back to the camp, and now with me being confined and all—”

“Thanks. Where was it?” wondered Clarke. Actually, she had a pretty good idea already.

“That one-eyed guy had your watch, so I thought, y’know, the Grounders had taken you.”

Of course, with her new knowledge, Clarke easily mentally filled in the gaps: after she’d fainted from the tranq gas, the Mountain Men would've deemed it contaminated and left it at the dropship. Later, a Grounder scavenger must have come along to pick over the remains of the dropship camp after the Mountain Men had taken her away.

“Why are you tied up like this?” Clarke frowned. “I thought my mother—”

Finn shook his head. “I must’ve said or done something, ‘cause she got this funny look in her eye and had a guard take me here after she was done questioning me.”

Clarke eyed Finn. “Are you planning to sneak out of here? Because if you are, it’s a stupid, stupid idea. You do it and the Grounders will come down on all of us for it. We have the guns, but ammo isn’t infinite. Enough trained warriors and we’re all dead.”

“Okay, all right!” Finn barked. “For a minute, yeah, okay. I guess your mom picked up on that, but I’d rather go work on a farm than get killed, honestly.”

“All right. I believe you,” she replied. “But Finn, you can’t do something like that. You can’t just—go off like some nutter. What were you th—never mind, you weren’t thinking!” Clarke took a deliberate breath, then continued, looking into Finn’s eyes. “Finn, any ideas you had about you and me … you need to understand we are done. Finished. Okay? We are not a couple. I guess we’re still friends, but I need my friends to be a lot saner.”

Finn flushed and looked at the ground. He mumbled, “I get it. I was just… so…” He shook his head. “It’s like it was me, but it wasn’t. I mean, I remember it all, but it’s like seeing a different me when I think about that village, the Grounder in the bunker…”

“You’re lucky my Mom seems to have decided you weren’t in your right mind then either,” said Clarke in clipped tones.

Finn nodded dolefully. “Maybe doing all that farm work will be a good idea.”

Clarke got out of the chair and knelt next to Finn again. She reached out, briefly touching Finn’s shoulder. “Just remember, it won’t be easy seeing that man’s face when you close your eyes. It’ll stay with you for a long time.”

Finn looked down at the floor and didn’t say anything. Clarke stood up, called for the guard to take the chair away, and strode back down the hallway. She needed to find something to eat, and then she needed to talk to Octavia, Bellamy and Raven.

Chapter Text

Octavia, convinced that the Mountain Men had Lincoln in some way, didn’t spare a moment after Clarke, at their shared table, had finished eating from an Ark ration pack. She was already muttering to herself about how to get through the mines unobserved, tracing her finger this way and that along the trails Clarke had drawn.

Raven, sitting next to Clarke, sipped at her cup, drawing out her slim liquor ration for as long as she could as she mused about what kind of technological equipment they’d need for offence and defence, from flashlights to Tasers to shock sticks. Clarke, remembering something, said, “Raven – the two men who came for me in the tunnels, in suits. They had this … uh, cylinder? And it made a high-pitched beeping sound that made the Reapers cover their ears and cower.”

Octavia, peering around and trying to see in the semidarkness beyond the flickering flames that lit the communal eating and drinking area, muttered, “Bellamy should be hearing this. Where is he?”

Raven frowned and looked at Clarke, rubbing her chin as she thought out loud, “Y’know, I bet they’re using a tone generator. Too bad you couldn’t record the signal, because we could use it. Maybe I can build my own tone generator with variable frequency, slide up and down the pitch range until I hit the right one when we spot a Reaper – or grab one.”

“Great idea, Raven!” exclaimed Clarke. She grinned at Raven. “Also, if they could detect radio signals from our ships maybe they have a radio network you could listen in on.”

Raven’s eyes widened in realization, and she began counting on her fingers and muttering to herself as she looked off into the distance. Probably inventorying any parts she has, thought Clarke.

Clarke nodded at Octavia. “Have any ideas about how to get in there?”

Octavia looked at Raven, who had just nodded in satisfaction to herself, then Clarke, fixing each with an intense gaze before she spoke. She pointed at the side channel of the dam where Clarke had gone out. “I wonder why they have this here. It’s really risky, but they’d never expect someone coming in this way, would they?”

“We’ll need to scout it. And see if we can explore the mines. I didn’t find all the pathways, not by a long shot – I’m sure of it,” Clarke noted. She had still drawn as many as she could remember, but it wouldn’t hurt to double-check.

Also, while she thought the side dam outlet was essentially impassable (she had briefly spotted an overhang that would keep anyone from being able to get in from above without a zipline), it wouldn’t hurt to double check. There had to be a way in that didn’t involve risking an all-or-none gamble that the leaders of Mount Weather wouldn’t try the divide and conquer trick again.

“Hey, Bellamy!” Octavia called off to the side.

Clarke looked up and saw Bellamy clutching a ration pack and a small mug. He looked at the group and seemed to grimace before walking over, clear hesitation in his steps. Nonetheless, he came up to the table and sat down in the one free seat next to Octavia.

Octavia began proposing all sorts of entry and scouting plans, some outlandish, some actually quite possible. Raven would chime in with her thoughts, mostly sarcastic, although Octavia never took offence. Clarke would add comments from her knowledge, slipping in anything she thought could be passed off as her “sneaking around”.

But Bellamy, she noticed, chowed down on his rations and sipped from his mug, his expression almost mulishly sulky as he listened to the other three talk. It wasn’t lost on Clarke that he seemed to frown a bit more with each use of Clarke’s name as they deferred to her for an up-or-down on the practicality of an idea.

Finally, after several minutes of debate over the merits of trying for the topmost entrance at the mountain’s peak, Bellamy slammed his mug down, startling the others. “Is there anything you won’t do, O? Maybe get in a rocket and fly right up on top if your wise leader Clarke tells you to?” His scowl punctuated that last sentence, which he’d said loud enough to start attracting attention from passers-by.

Octavia scowled and barked, “Bellamy Blake! You shut up, right now!”

“Yeah, what’s your problem, huh? I don’t see you helping much trying to figure out how to catch a Reaper, never mind get into Mount Weather!” Raven smacked the maps for emphasis.

Clarke felt the heat rise in her face as she looked at Bellamy, who let out a low growl, then leaped out of his seat and stalked off. “Shit,” she breathed. “I have to go after him, you guys,” she muttered to Raven and Octavia, who nodded amid the silence that rapidly enveloped them.

With an apologetic glance at her friends, Clarke got up and pelted off after Bellamy, who had already gotten most of the way to the fence now surrounding Camp Jaha. In the darkness, he stood a couple of meters away and stared off to the forest in the north. Clarke, slowing her steps as she approached, called out, “Bellamy! What the hell was that?”

Bellamy whirled around and snarled, “Oh, like you don’t know, Princess. Can’t do anything wrong, can you? You’re already pulling my sister into these ridiculous, dangerous plans and somehow, I’ll end up getting blamed for it ‘cause I’m the bad guy!”

“That’s…” Clarke stood, mouth agape as she tried to process. She began again, saying, “That’s just – Bellamy – I don’t want Octavia, or anyone, to get hurt, okay? We’re going to try to find out everything we can about Mount Weather first before even considering anything.”

Bellamy snorted, but didn’t respond.

Clarke rubbed her forehead and heaved a sigh before looking back up at him. She took a step closer. “Look, I do need your help,” she said. She took another step, now nearly within reach of his arm if she put her hand out. “You…” Clarke searched her memories, trying to dredge up events they’d shared at the dropship. “Don’t you remember? You helped distract Murphy when we needed to get into the dropship, remember? And you’ve been okay with Octavia and Lincoln, too.”

Some tension left Bellamy’s face, visible in the indirect light. Clarke, judging she had the momentum, continued, saying, “I need you with us here, Bellamy. I need the guy who got Raven to build a radio when she was going to take off; the guy who taught me how to fire a gun; hell, the guy who managed to stand in front of a hundred kids and convince them to take off their wristbands.” Clarke chuckled and added, “Uh, even if that might not’ve helped us.”

Bellamy turned a bit to look at Clarke, his expression now more thoughtful than angry.

Clarke drove on. “I know you can be a leader, Bellamy. Just, I know what I said back at our campsite—“

The air seemed to go out of Bellamy as his shoulders slumped. He shook his head slowly. “No, you were right. I was trying to be the boss, but I wasn’t being the boss.”

“If it helps, Bellamy,” Clarke said as she reached up, tentatively grasping his shoulder, “I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Images swam before her eyes: the killing field – Indra telling her and Lexa about Bellamy – three hundred Grounders!

Not in this world, damnit! Clarke shouted at herself even as her stomach twisted unpleasantly and she let her hand fall back to her side.

Pushing through the nausea, she looked squarely at Bellamy, keeping her gaze steady as she added, “You can be a good leader, Bellamy. Monsters don’t become good leaders, you know.”

Bellamy gave her a half-smile. “I guess I just get mad when I know you’re right about something. Like being in charge, not just trying to give orders and acting like the one in charge.”

The sick feeling was already receding from her stomach, and Clarke managed to dredge up a small grin and chuckle. “Well, I’m not always right.” Her tone grew serious as she looked away to the forest for a moment before turning back to him. “But we are going to be counting on you for stuff, Bellamy. It’s going to take everything we’ve got to figure out how to get our people out of that mountain, ‘cause they sure aren’t going to want to give us up.”

Bellamy frowned. “Why do you think that?”

“C’mon, let’s get back.” As they began walking back towards the fallen Ark, Clarke said, “It’s obvious. Forty-seven bodies with blood that’s essentially immune to radiation. Haven’t you noticed we can walk around outside, no problem? Something Dante – that President Wallace guy – said about how we got hit with solar winds and got exposed to all kinds of radiation in space.”

Bellamy gulped, hard. “You mean they might start…?”

Clarke nodded. “What if they get the idea to use our friends for their blood?”

That left Bellamy quiet and somber for the remainder of the walk even when Clarke briefly checked in with Raven and Octavia to get her maps back. As she and Bellamy went to her assigned temporary quarters, Clarke said, her voice hushed in the hallway of the station, “Don’t talk about this with anyone just yet. If people start panicking and we don’t have any truce with the Grounders—”

Bellamy nodded. “I get it. We could start the war we’re trying not to have.”

Clarke nodded. She decided to do one last thing for Bellamy, and stuck her hand out. “Are we good?”

Bellamy took her hand in a handshake. “Yeah. I think we are.”

He let go of her hand immediately after that, and walked off down the hall to his own quarters. Clarke, holding up her hand to gaze at it, counted it a small win that she no longer felt queasy and that her hand hadn’t felt as though it had been set ablaze by his touch.

The next morning, Clarke found out Sinclair and some other technicians had managed to get the Ark’s recyclers fully working again. Between that and the makeshift rainwater collection system they’d built, the communal bathrooms were just barely able to give everyone five-minute showers, except for Raven, who’d been especially granted a ten-minute ration by Abby.

“You can choose between indifferently warm and sort of warm,” Raven had joked when she joined the group of four for breakfast. Clarke had noticed Finn being led away by a guard to another table, and who knew where Murphy was right then. He wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite person, especially as he’d just shot Raven a few days before (except for Clarke’s still somewhat-wonky time sense).

Clarke, remembering how Bellamy had been anxious and ready to go on a mission to Mount Weather in the old timeline, wondered if his newfound reluctance might have been a combination of a resurgent overprotectiveness at seeing Octavia so eager to go, and a couple of body blows she’d done to his ego. Admittedly, not having to ride herd on Bellamy made things a little easier, as her own newfound caution about Mount Weather was based on information none of the others had yet, gained at considerable personal cost to her and her conscience.

Raven tapped Clarke’s arm. “Hey. My leg was bothering me early this morning, so after my shower I went to the mechanic shop and scrounged up some parts for the radio. Got some time later?”

Clarke nodded. “Sure, after I finish my ration here.”

Octavia gulped down the last of her water, then said, “I’m gonna go do some exercises. Bell, you coming? I need a spotter.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but still went to join his sister as she hunted around for an area to do some warm-up calisthenics. Clarke smiled as she turned back to Raven. The Mountain Men won’t know what hit them when Octavia becomes a warrior, Clarke mused.

The beginnings of the focused, driven warrior had been there all along in Octavia: Clarke just hadn’t paid as much attention the first time around. But Raven had something to show her—

“I’m ready to go, Raven.”

Shortly after, they were in the mechanic shop. Every available shelf bore all manner of equipment and tools. On the table in the middle sat Raven’s radio. Raven nodded at it and said, “I was tweaking the resonator. Check this out.”

She turned on the radio and began sweeping through the frequencies. The low hissing static was there, again, telling Clarke the jamming was still in effect. Clarke pointed. “Is this Mount Weather?”

Raven nodded. “Has to be. We’ve got shit for long-range communications and our walkies have crappy range, too. Plus, Monty heard this when the Exodus ship crashed.” She thumped the table. “As if I needed another reason to hate those bastards,” she snarled.

Clarke nodded. “We’ll get them, I promise.” She sidled up next to Raven, their shoulders butting up against one another. “But is there any way you could … I don’t know, get around the jamming?”

Raven shook her head. “Not without a way more powerful transmitter. And that’d be like shouting to Mount Weather we know what they’re up to.” She grinned and put her hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “But we could either destroy their transmitter or, like you said earlier, maybe listen in on them.”

Clarke turned to Raven, taking in the other girl’s cocky grin and dark brown eyes. The room seemed to fall totally silent, leaving just the two of them in an isolated bubble. For just a moment, Clarke wanted to lose herself, bridge the gap between them, let Raven’s vortex grab her and drown her. Would Raven’s lips feel smooth against her own? How would her body react under Clarke’s touch?

Clarke’s head moved infinitesimally closer to Raven’s, as hers did likewise. Before their mouths could touch, a loud bang in the distance startled both of them. They both jumped and yelled, “Shit!”

Clarke took some deep breaths to calm herself, then coughed awkwardly, shifting a bit further away from Raven. “Um,” she said, unsure how to handle nearly crossing the boundary of her friendship with Raven.

“Yeah,” said Raven, clearly as discomfited by the sudden turn their friendship could have taken. “Uh, lemme keep working on this. We might have to get closer to the transmitter, though, see where it is.” She began intently fiddling with the radio.

Clarke bit her lip. What was wrong with her? She was supposed to be with Lexa … who was lurking in the background of this timeline, approaching closer and closer with each coming day. It was she who held Clarke’s heart, even if she had no idea yet—Other girls were not supposed to be on her horizon at all—

A rather uncomfortable weight seemed to settle in her stomach as she realized how close she had gotten to sending all of her plans—hell, the future itself, off the rails.

But she could still do something to smooth things over with Raven. “Hey, Raven?”

Raven looked up, blinking rapidly. “Yeah?”

Clarke smiled. “I know it’s kind of the wrong time and everything, but believe me, if we were still back up on the Ark, I would absolutely—”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Raven let out a dry chuckle. “I get it. We’re kind of in the middle of things right now.”

Clarke grimaced. “Mount Weather. The Grounders. Reapers. There’s just so much to do.”

“Yeah.” Raven held Clarke’s elbow for a moment. “But hey, so you know. I’m getting a cot in here so I can work on stuff whenever. The offer’s still open. Just, if you want to spend the night one time.”

Clarke reached up, clasping Raven’s hand. “I appreciate it. I really do. I just can’t promise anything right now.”

Raven grinned broadly. “If you do, I’d like that, princess.”

Clarke laughed. “You would, mechanic.”

Raven let go of her hand and waved. “Gonna play around a bit more here, see if I can get anything besides static.”

Clarke waved back. “I should see if my mom needs help in Medical.”

Any thoughts of getting away from Raven for a while to calm her nerves and wait things out ended suddenly as shouts erupted from the camp just as Clarke was about to go into the Medical tent.

She raced to the gate, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand as she peered toward the forest. As soon as she saw the two figures striding towards Camp Jaha, her jaw dropped in shock.

That’s definitely different, was all Clarke could think as she saw Marcus Kane and Thelonious Jaha approaching the gate.

Chapter Text

Clarke joined the crowd rushing along the path to the camp entrance, butting shoulders with Sinclair as he pushed up to the front near her. A confused babble arose as people pointed and stared at Jaha, apparently quite alive and well. Clarke frowned as she peered at the two men. Kane seemed fine, but Jaha had a noticeable bruise on his forehead; the previous time he’d been beaten badly. What had changed? Clarke belatedly realized her hands had clenched into fists, and tried to relax, hoping she’d find out sooner or later.

What had Lexa done?

Abby was practically lunging past people as she bellowed, “Open the gate! Let them in!” She raced up to the open gate entrance and greeted Kane and Jaha, checking them over, satisfying herself they weren’t grievously injured or concussed.

Kane, having stopped to let Abby briefly check him over, called out to the group at large. “Your attention, please! Attention, everyone!”

The murmuring around Clarke quieted, and she shuffled her feet, trying to make some space between Sinclair on her left and a brownish-blonde teenage girl on her right. Abby, having finished her brief inspection of Jaha, stood near the two leaders. Kane bellowed, “Everyone, I realize you’re anxious to hear the news about what happened to me and especially to Thelonious, given his miraculous return from the Ark. But we urgently need to meet with Chancellor Griffin and the section leaders before announcing anything more substantial to you all. I can reassure you that there is no immediate cause for alarm and I ask that you remain calm.”

With that, Kane beckoned to Abby and whispered in her ear before walking on down the main dirt lane to the Ark. Jaha hesitated, then fell into step with Kane. Abby veered off and went up to Clarke as the crowd slowly dispersed, with people turning to stare at Jaha in renewed astonishment or puzzlement. Her mother’s lips were pursed in disapproval, but all she said was, “Kane says you need to be involved. Come to the old council chambers.”

Clarke stepped forward automatically, then stopped, dumbstruck as she gasped for air.

Could Lexa have known…?

Could this timeline’s Lexa be her Lexa?

Her heart raced. She wiped her palms discreetly on her pants and raced to catch up to her mother.

Clarke stood at the central table, Abby to her left and Kane to her right. Jaha was to Kane’s right, with Sinclair next to the former Chancellor and Byrne, the security head, rounding out the group. A pitcher of water sat in the middle of the table, and Kane and Jaha were already setting their now-empty cups down, ready to begin and looking more refreshed, too.

Abby began by saying, “Thelonious, could you explain – we all thought you were done for!”

Jaha nodded. “So did I, believe me. But I was able to use one of our bomb-outfitted rockets to get off the Ark.” At Sinclair’s obvious interest, Jaha put up his hand and said, “I’ll be happy to explain it to you in detail later, but we don’t have much time, regardless of what Marcus says.”

As Kane opened his mouth, clearly to disagree, Abby said, “Wait. Let Thelonious finish, please.”

“I landed in a desert, a ‘dead zone’, peopled only with nomadic travellers who seek a place called the City of Light. As one of the ‘Sky People’, I apparently was worth some money to someone currying favor with the local bandits. I was taken and brought to a prison. Marcus came perhaps a day or two later. Not long after that, a tall bearded man purporting to be the Commander of the Grounders gave us a knife and told us one would have to kill the other.”

Kane spoke up. “Before I start, you may be wondering why Clarke Griffin is here with us. That will be answered shortly. First, I went by myself to what the Grounders call TonDC, apparently their local capital. I was imprisoned and put in a cell. At first I thought I was alone, but Thelonious revealed himself shortly after. As he said, we were given a knife. A young girl, apparently a servant about eighteen years old or so, hobbled in and after some time, revealed that she could speak English. Her name is Lexa.”

Clarke managed to hide the frisson of anticipation that went down her spine at hearing that name again.

Kane’s mouth quirked in a half-grin. “After Thelonious and I had – I don’t know, minutes, hours – of useless debate about who ought to die, I said peace had to start with sacrifice and took the knife, intending to… well…”

Clarke’s breath hitched as she stared at Kane. Had he really almost died for the cause of peace?

Thelonious took up the thread. “Marcus wanted to spare me the unpleasantness, but before he could cut the veins on his arms, the young woman stopped him and stood up. She spoke in their language to the soldiers outside, then spoke English and reannounced herself as Lexa, the true Commander. She had decided, apparently upon seeing Marcus’s willingness to go through with his ‘sacrifice’, as he calls it, that peace could be had.”

“Unfortunately, I did something that was, in retrospect, very foolish,” admitted Jaha. “I grabbed the knife from Marcus and proceeded to threaten the Commander’s life.”

Clarke stared, her jaw agape as she fought down the rage that suddenly blasted through her. Her fists clenched. How dare he! She clenched her jaw, glaring at Jaha, barely physically restraining herself from leaping across the table and strangling the man where he stood.

Abby, clearly shocked, gasped, “Thelonious! What were you thinking?!”

Jaha looked down at the table in rueful reflection. “However, the Commander is a very good fighter. She fought me off easily and told us both to leave with a message – but not before a couple of her troops clocked me on the head as a small reminder not to mess with their leader.”

Clarke relaxed, internally cheering in vicarious victory. This was definitely the Lexa she knew – the same Lexa who had fought Roan fearlessly, with skill and wit and strength. Jaha, Clarke decided, could keep his reprieve. He must have been beaten more badly in the old timeline because of what Finn had done.

Kane wrapped up the discussion. “Thelonious has a different opinion than me, but the message is this: we have two days grace from this morning for anyone who wishes to leave Grounder lands, during which we can travel unhindered provided no further violence occurs. At the end of two days, Commander Lexa will accompany her troops to Camp Jaha and decide at that point if we can have a permanent truce or not.” He turned to Clarke and said, “She will only speak to you. She specifically said, ‘I will speak only with Clarke of the Sky People’.”

Abby protested, “They’re led by a … a child! An eighteen year old girl! Is she seriously going to only treat with Clarke as our representative?”

Clarke’s breath quickened, her heart beginning to pound harder against her ribcage. Was that request by Lexa only because Anya might have mentioned her, or because…?

She hardly dared hope!

Her jaw quivering only slightly as she tried not to be distracted by thoughts of Lexa, she responded, “Mom, you’ve been putting your faith in me up to now. I’ve proven that even 'children' can get things done, haven’t I?”

Her mother acquiesced, but still didn’t look happy.

“Besides, like it or not, I’ve been the leader of our group until you all came down. This Commander seems to believe she can deal with me because her forces and mine have fought against each other. So I will talk to her. I mean, it sounds like there’s not much of a choice.” To the group as a whole, she said, “We can’t fight a two-front war, not against the Grounders and Mount Weather.”

Jaha frowned. “What’s all this about Mount Weather? I thought there were only supplies there.”

Abby quickly explained the highlights – people did live in the mountain, probably used the acid fog as a way to keep the area around the mountain clear of intruders, forty-seven teenagers were being held inside Mount Weather, being deceived about the Ark’s survival, and the bleeding of Grounders to save the Mountain people from the otherwise fatal effects of radiation. In addition, she noted the success of Farm Station's landing. Even amid that one piece of good news, Kane’s jaw had dropped a fraction of an inch, and Jaha was frowning, his distaste clear in his expression at the atrocities of the Mount Weather people.

Jaha sighed. He shook his head slowly and said, “As much as I sympathize with your situation, Abigail, and with your ideals, Marcus, as well as with the imprisoned Grounders, I simply don’t believe we’ve done much more than get a reprieve in any way that helps anyone but ourselves. I can’t see how Clarke’s talk with the Commander will make any difference; I fully expect we’ll be ordered off this land by a week or two from today.”

Kane bridled at that. “Thelonious, if they hadn’t wanted peace at all they could have killed us and sent the dead bodies back as a warning. According to our debriefs and our own experiences they’ve done that before to tell us to stay out of their space.” He raised his hands, clenching them into fists as he insisted, “I have to believe we have a chance!” He rested his hands on the table and leaned against it, bowing his head for a moment.

Byrne piped up, saying, “The security situation seems stable for now, but they have three hundred of their soldiers they may still want our heads for. I know some of my people will want to stay and fight; after all, their kids are in that mountain. Some of the civilians, too.”

Sinclair ran his hand through his hair and looked around at the group. “I’m not sure if we should take the two days’ grace as a warning or an opportunity. Raven and I could probably whip up a few things, flashbangs, stuff like that, but against a massed force of Grounder troops…” He gave them a helpless shrug.

Abby crossed her arms and flatly proclaimed, “Nobody is leaving unless there is absolutely no other way. We deserve to be able to make our home here. And we have people from Farm Station we need to take in, too.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” asked Jaha. “As the only elected Chancellor in this room, I ask that you return your pin to me. I will assume the responsibility for leading our people away from here: away to the City of Light, where all are welcome. We can try to gather our Mount Weather children and the Farm Station people later.”

Abby snorted. “You actually believe this … light nonsense? It could be nothing, Thelonious.”

Jaha stood ramrod straight, imperiously eyeing all in the room before his gaze settled on Abby. “Give me back my pin, now, Abigail.”

“No.” Her mother’s gaze was flinty, unyielding as she scowled at Jaha.

“Byrne!” Jaha called. “Arrest Abigail Griffin immediately for failure to yield back my lawful authority!”

Kane barked, “Just a second!” He turned to Jaha. “I appreciate that you’re alive and well, but we’ve been going our own way, trying to form a working community here. Some people will want to stay. You owe them the right to make that decision without alarmism or trying to goad them into it.” To Abby, he said, “I know he delegated authority as Chancellor to me. I’ve effectively resigned the Chancellorship, and passed that authority on to you. You could give me back the pin – give anyone that pin, really – on your say-so, but—” he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Kane looked around and continued, “we put rules in place for a reason, Abby.”

Abby didn’t budge. “I could probably find a clause in the Exodus Charter about the legality of my position based on the presumed death of the delegating Chancellor. Byrne, arrest Jaha.”

Byrne’s hand went to her sidearm, and she said, “Thelonious Jaha, I have been ordered to escort you to the stockade.”

Jaha stepped back. “What is this, Abby?”

Abby rested her hands on the table and leaned forward. She snarled, “I’ll tell you what it is! It’s you coming back here, throwing your weight around as though you were still fit for the job. It’s you arrogantly deciding for yourself what’s good for the people, when you’ll probably kill half of them or more on this fool’s crusade where there is no food and no water!” She slammed her hand down on the table and roared, “Get this man out of my sight, Byrne!”

Clarke reared back in shock as Byrne expertly manhandled a protesting Jaha out of the room, leaving a seething Abby to cool off and a skeptical Kane eyeing her warily.

Kane spoke cautiously, his voice low. “Abby, I’m not sure that was wise.”

“I know.” Abby heaved a loud sigh and bowed her head, staring at the table. “I shouldn’t be …” She shook her head, then looked back up and around at the group. “Never mind. We have two days’ grace and we need to make the most of them regardless of what happens when Clarke meets the Grounder Commander. Clarke, as you seem to be bound and determined to do what you can, get your friends together and meet me and a small contingent of guards. Sinclair, get with Raven and help her with anything she needs to put together before we head out. We’ll scout the area around Mount Weather as best as we can, and keep gathering the intelligence we need.

“And then before we leave you and I have speeches to make, Marcus.”

Chapter Text

Almost an hour later, Clarke stood in the large clearing near the ponderous round door leading into the administrative areas of the Ark. Her backpack, resting at her feet, had every provision she could think of, among them a large, heavy-duty flashlight with enough heft in it to be a weapon if need be and her Mount Weather maps. She had been allowed to take a shock stick from the armory, but not a gun, under the supervision of her mother and Byrne, after which they both escorted Clarke back out of the room and then took off to gather other supplies.

Raven stood beside her on her left, setting down her own pack by her feet. It bulged with all manner of electrical items. The crowd around them, spreading off in all directions, shuffled their feet and waited anxiously for her mother’s speech, which had been announced shortly before by Byrne. Raven cleared her throat and tapped Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke looked over and said, “Hey. Uh, are you going to be okay for a day trip?”

Raven nodded. “My leg’s feeling better and I need to exercise it anyway. But, uh, listen. Are we okay? I kind of…”

“Oh!” Clarke’s eyes widened as she remembered that abortive almost-moment in the mechanic shop. Now that Lexa was so tangibly close, Raven drew further and further back as even a remote possibility of a fling. “Yes. I think so, anyway. I like us as friends right now, though. Are you okay with that?”

Raven smiled, blinking slowly. “Yeah. I had some time to think it over while I was getting my stuff together with Sinclair. I know I made an offer to you, but you’re not, y’know, obligated. And I’d rather not mess up a beautiful friendship.”

Clarke laughed. “Did you actually see that old movie, too? I watched it with my parents when I was a kid.”

“Yeah. Actually, come to think of it—” Raven tilted her head, remembering. “It was about three years ago, when Finn and I were hanging out. He’d gotten permission to check out Casablanca, and we both kind of liked it.”

Clarke grinned and extended an arm for a half-embrace. “Friends?”

Raven reached out and embraced her. “You know it.”

Bellamy and Octavia pushed through the crowd and joined them at the front, setting their packs down, with Octavia standing next to Clarke on her right and Bellamy to his sister’s right. A wise idea, thought Clarke, considering Octavia’s sword was slung over her shoulder.

Bellamy nodded at the others. “We’ve got a tent, flashlights, shock sticks, stuff like that.”

“Good,” said Clarke. “We might get hit with acid fog and we’ll need protection.”

All four shuddered at the thought. Clarke tried not to remember the light fading from Atom’s eyes as she helped take his pain away forever.

The round door creaked open, quieting the murmuring crowd. Once it was wide open, Byrne stepped aside, letting Kane and Abby through. Where was Jaha, wondered Clarke. Could her mother have decided to keep him permanently imprisoned?

Sure enough—

“Where’s Jaha?!” someone called out.

Clarke, only a few meters away, was close enough to see her mother’s pursed lips as she stepped forward to begin speaking. “Thelonious Jaha unfortunately sustained a concussion that was not apparent when he was travelling with Marcus, who informed me that Jaha tripped and fell, hitting his forehead against a rock. He assured Marcus that he was fine, and their priority was in any case to get back here as quickly as possible. His condition only became apparent at our meeting upon which he fell unconscious. Dr. Jackson is observing him and must not be disturbed.”

Clarke only just managed to keep from bursting out laughing at how masterfully her mother had concocted that complete pack of lies. “Fell unconscious”, indeed! As it was, Octavia was eyeing her strangely; she quickly coughed and cleared her throat, patting her chest as though she’d momentarily had a tickle in her throat.

Kane stepped forward, joining her mother. He clasped his hands behind his back and made his announcement. “While I can’t reveal all the details of our discussion due to lack of time, one rumor is indeed true: some of our children are at Mount Weather, very likely being held there without knowledge of our survival. We may be able to negotiate for their safe return, but if not, we may have to fight for them.”

His voice rising, cutting short the rising babble of the crowd, Kane continued. “Of more immediate concern is that the Grounder Commander has given us two days’ grace until she arrives here to meet with a representative that we will send to her. I am personally confident that we can obtain a permanent truce as a result of this meeting. If we have this truce we can then look to the Mountain. However, I understand and can fully appreciate that not all of you may set store by my words.”

Abby took up the thread. “Thelonious Jaha is not as optimistic as Marcus is about our prospects. He claims to know an area of this world where people may be safe. He calls it the City of Light. However, you should all be aware that in that direction is a hot, unforgiving desert, empty of any food or water, which stretches on for a considerable distance. If any of you still wish to join him if he strikes out for the City of Light, we will outfit you with such provisions as we can muster, but I warn you – it will likely not be an easy trip and you should be prepared.”

Marcus continued. “In any case, whether you wish to go or stay, the two days’ temporary truce that we have allows freedom of movement outside this camp – as long as there is no violence. Please honor that understanding! We have come this far, people, with the possibility of an end to further bloodshed nearly in our grasp! Our story does not end on the ground; let us make it so that the Hundred who came before us did not shed their blood in vain!”

Wetness stung Clarke’s eyes, and she had to duck her head and blink rapidly, swallowing hard as she tried not to sniffle. How and why, marvelled Clarke, had the inflexibly dogmatic Councilman Kane become such a fervent believer in peace and harmony? Even in this new world, and knowing from her mother that he had been the one to decide to ask three hundred people to sacrifice themselves ultimately for nothing, she still had no idea just what had really pushed him this far.

The mystery of Kane would have to wait, because scattered applause took fire and spread, with loud cheers and whistles erupting from some of the Arkers. Clarke couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she joined in with the crowd’s thunderous applause.

Kane smiled and waved, then after a few more moments, raised both his hands for quiet and stepped back, letting Abby wrap up. “I ask that you all continue with your daily tasks of helping get our community on a solid footing. Be prepared and cautious, but not paranoid. You may speak to your section heads if you have any questions.” She clapped her hands sharply, once. “Let’s all get back to work, please!”

With that, the crowd dispersed, the volume of conversation rising among people as they drifted off to do one thing or another. Abby came up to Clarke’s group, smiling slightly. Clarke expostulated, “Kane was amazing! I’ve never heard—”

“He was, indeed. I’m still having trouble believing this was the same man who used to constantly battle me at Council,” replied her mother.

Speaking of which, Clarke saw over her mother’s shoulder that Kane, walking with Byrne, was retreating back into the Ark, presumably to discuss security patrols and the like. She looked at her mother and snickered. “How did you say all that about Jaha with a straight face?”

Abby glanced around warningly at the others in the group, catching their confused frowns. She leaned in and said, “This is not for public knowledge and I will be very unhappy if this gets out. Thelonious is unconscious, but not for a concussion. He challenged my authority and demanded the Chancellorship back in order to take us all to his ‘City of Light’. I had Byrne put him under arrest, and he struggled so much she had to knock him out.”

Octavia’s jaw dropped. “Ordering us out just like that? Without even asking us?!”

Clarke broke in. “Well, he would’ve had to announce it and there aren’t enough security people to force us all into it. But him doing that could’ve really screwed things up.”

Octavia snorted. “Hell yeah. Jaha can go float himself. I’m not leaving here. Not when we have to find Lincoln.”

“And you’re not the only one, O. We’d be splitting apart and people and lines of authority would get confused,” Raven noted. “What if someone’d done something stupid and messed it all up with the Grounders as a result?”

Bellamy grunted, “I’m with O. Jaha doesn’t own us.”

“Anyway,” Abby said, overriding the discussion. “Luckily, Marcus and I have managed to nip that problem in the bud. I still plan to let Jaha go, but anyone who goes with him is now fully informed as to what they face.

“Now, I understand you four have a scouting mission in mind.”

Raven nodded, reaching down to slap her bag. “I cobbled together a few things. One of them’s a directional finder for the jamming – basically it measures signal strength. If we know where the transmitter is, chances are we might spot something we can use to monitor it or keep a plan in reserve to blow it. Another thing I whipped up is a variable tone generator.”

Bellamy asked, “What’s that for?”

“Glad you asked.” Raven said with a smirk and click of her tongue. “Clarke told me she heard the Mountain Men using one of those things to control the Reapers. It makes them afraid.”

Abby’s eyes lit up. “Classic conditioned fear response! That’s… brilliantly diabolical.” She shook her head, and at Octavia’s confusion, she clarified, “The Mountain Men are somehow combining pain with a sound at a specific frequency to make them react in fear when they hear it. It’s like if I rang a bell every time I brought you your favorite food, and then one day I rang the bell and didn’t bring it, you’d still start to feel hungry.”

Octavia’s amazement settled into cold rage as she processed that; her jaw set as her gaze at Abby hardened. She ground out, “And they’re doing this to Lincoln and Lincoln’s people? They would’ve done it to Nyko?”

Abby seemed to deflate a bit. Clarke nodded somberly to Octavia.

Octavia spat, “I am going to kill those motherf—”

“Whoa!” Clarke urged as she grasped Octavia’s shoulder. “Whoa. Listen, Octavia. Please.”

After a few seconds, she turned her head to look at Clarke, her expression still smoldering, but less wild-looking. “What?” she snarled.

Clarke dropped her hand to lightly clasp Octavia’s elbow. “Octavia, I get it. Okay? I absolutely agree that they can’t keep doing this, but the Mountain Men are dangerous. If they thought it would keep them safe they might kill all of us.”

“How?” scoffed Octavia.

Abby spoke up. “I can think of at least one way. On Earth, when the nuclear war happened, they used missiles – like the defused warhead assembly Thelonious used to come down to Earth. If Mount Weather still has any—”

Clarke’s blood ran cold as she dropped her hand back to her side. TonDC—all those people! Two hundred and fifty people sacrificed to keep Mount Weather in the dark…

Luckily, Bellamy chose this moment to be a peacemaker. “Everyone? Can we stay focused on what we have to do right now? We need to find out about how to get into Mount Weather and how they communicate. Am I right, Clarke?”

Clarke let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, coming back to herself as she replied, “Yes, that’s right.”

Octavia swallowed hard, then squared her shoulders as she half-turned to look at her brother. “You’ve made your point, Bell.” She faced forward again, addressing the group. “But as soon as we find a way in, I want to be the first inside.” She reached up and tapped her sword handle.

Abby, clearly relieved that the tension had been defused, said, “As I said earlier, I’ve had Byrne outfit three guards to come with us. They will be carrying sidearms only, which should not be immediately obvious to any Grounder people we come across. I’m honestly more worried about dangerous wildlife at this point.”

Raven grinned again. “All right, then! How about we get moving, huh? Got a transmitter to find, for starters!” She reached into her pack, plucking out a familiar-looking black box and handing it to Clarke before she settled the pack on her shoulders.

Clarke handed Raven back her signal finder, then got her pack on her shoulders as well.

Some minutes later, the group moved out, with Raven in the lead, aiming her device this way and that, peering at the needles. She stopped mid-turn and pointed at one of the more prominent mountains. “It’s a little more focused in that direction. Let’s go at angles to it, make sure I’ve got the right direction.”

Clarke peered in that direction, and said, “That’s definitely the right way. I remember the shape of that mountain, sort of.”

With that, they headed slightly off to the right into the forest, navigating one of the trails, keeping wary eyes out for any strange animals or people in the bushes or trees, as well as making sure to test the ground for traps as they went.

As they paced among the trees, which offered fortunate shade against the brightening late-morning sun, Clarke, alongside her mother, asked, “Could we somehow deprogram a Reaper?”

Abby looked at her in astonishment. “How? From all the reports from you and others, Reapers are unpredictable but generally violent, dangerously strong and possibly cannibalistic as well. Why would you want to even get close to one?”

Clarke’s jaw set. “We owe this to the Grounders, Mom. We have the techniques to be able to turn them back into functioning people. You know that.”

“Maybe on the Ark, but…” Abby reached up to brush her hair back. “Down here, we have almost nothing. You know I couldn’t even sedate Raven. There is no way we could safely keep a Reaper under our control long enough to attempt a restoration to sanity for one.”

“We have to have something. At least if we find the right tone on our tone generator, we can quell them long enough to inject them with something, right? Maybe the Grounders know something about the plants we don’t.”

Abby didn’t look convinced, and Clarke sniped in exasperation, “What? We can’t even just use straight up alcohol?!”

Abby opened her mouth to answer, then closed her mouth again, considering as she walked. They navigated around a particularly winding part of the trail, dodging this tree and that, then regained a fairly straight path on an upward climb.

Finally, Abby turned to Clarke and smiled. “Sometimes even us doctors have to bow to the brilliance of laypeople. If we had a solution of about, say, twenty-five percent alcohol in water, injected directly into the bloodstream—”

“Even Reapers can get drunk, since alcohol acts like a sedative.” concluded Clarke.

“Well,” said Abby as she injected a sober note, “We would still have to catch ourselves a Reaper first.”

Raven, still in front, called, “The signal’s still getting stronger. We’re on the right path!”

Mother and daughter fell silent again as the group continued walking through the forest.

A few hours later, the sun was high up in the sky, signalling that it was noon or early afternoon.

The group stood in the same clearing Clarke remembered from her previous journey, and she set her pack down to dig out a set of binoculars. She called out, for form’s sake, “And this is the closest we can get, Raven?”

Raven, a meter away from her, looked at her signal finder again, then clicked a switch and shoved it back in her pack, which sat at her feet. “Yeah. I mean, we could maybe navigate around a bit more, but we’re pretty much where the signal’s the strongest. The transmitter should be this really tall post, like the one we’ve got back at Camp Jaha.”

Clarke held the binoculars out to Raven and said, “Maybe you should look first. I might miss it.”

As Raven took the binoculars and peered up at the peak of the mountain looming above them, Clarke looked around. This time, Bellamy and Octavia had stayed put instead of Clarke letting them slip their leash early. And Finn wasn’t there to make things awkward. Why they had thought they’d need a tracker, anyway, she couldn’t remember now.

Raven lifted her finger and pointed. “Up there.”

Clarke held out her hand. “Gimme.”

Out the corner of her eye, she saw her mother make a false start and back up again. Ignoring that for the moment, Clarke held the lenses to her eyes as she looked, once again, at the antennas bristling up from the mountain. After a few moments’ steady gazing, she absently held out the binoculars to her mother as she eyed the mountain.

It was real. It was here. And it was far more dangerous than anyone else in the clearing knew. Clarke drew a ragged breath as she vainly pushed away the gathering memories – Cage Wallace ordering her friends murdered for their bone marrow – the dreadful weight bearing down on her as she gripped the lever – the choking deaths of hundreds of people even as that victory saved her own…

Clarke shook herself back to reality with a determined effort. She called out, “Bellamy, Octavia, got a minute?”

Abby lowered the binoculars and looked at the group warily. She handed the binoculars back off to Raven, who took them.

The Blakes, who had been standing near the clearing’s edges to keep a watch for any strangers, trotted over to Clarke. “Yeah?” asked Bellamy.

“You want to find a way in, right?”

Octavia nodded, her nostrils flaring as she balefully glared at the mountain for a second.

“Raven, give them that tone generator in case there are any Reapers.” To Bellamy and Octavia, Clarke said, “Go with one of the guards and scout near the base of that mountain.”

Abby held up her hands and barked, “Wait a moment! First of all, we don’t know if that tone generator will work because we don’t know the frequency. Second of all, while we are trying to gather intelligence about Mount Weather, what happens if you get caught? I do not want it on my conscience that more people have been captured or killed!”

Unstated, but clear in Abby’s warning gaze at Clarke, was her unhappiness at the way Clarke was still being deferred to, that she was still acting as leader when her mother was supposed to be the official Chancellor.

You may be Chancellor, but I’m the one in charge…

Clarke’s mouth quirked for a moment as that memory bloomed forth, but she kept her voice low and controlled as she replied, “I get that. Okay? You may not believe it, but trust me, I don’t want them dead any more than you do. But unless we take these risks we won’t find out what we need to know – like how to hold off Reapers and find a way in there!”

Abby grimaced and set her hands on her hips as she looked at the ground, considering as she did so.

“All right!” she said, her tone peremptory. “Scott, you go with them. Anything goes wrong, I want you three all back with the rest of us ASAP. No ifs, ands, or buts. We may not be able to make it back to Camp Jaha by nightfall and we’re too close to the mountain for my liking. We need to get back into the forest and make camp.”

Bellamy, Octavia and the guard, Scott, quickly busied themselves checking that they had flashlights and working shock sticks. The guard armed himself, pushing fresh clips into both of his sidearms, one in his left holster and one in his right holster. They each announced they were ready.

Raven dug out from her pack a small metal box which bore several switches, a dial and a gauge. She held it out to Octavia; Bellamy stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. Clarke, in between the two girls, looked at the device as Raven explained.

“Okay, this big switch”—she indicated a large metal toggle near the base—“turns it on or off. There’s a speaker at the front, so it’s mostly directional. Point the grille here, on the front”—she indicated a black round attachment on the box near the needle gauge—“at the Reaper or Reapers. The only other things you touch are the frequency lock and the dial. The gauge will tell you the volume, but I’ve set it at maximum on the principle of better safe than sorry.”

Raven pointed at the lock toggle to the right of the large dial, which could be rotated left and right. A readout near the dial read 100 in bold black numbers on a white background.

“The black numbers on the readout tell you what frequency this is outputting. As you turn the dial to the left the numbers will go all the way up to twenty thousand Hertz. Once you find the frequency the Reapers respond to, lock the frequency. I need to know that number so I can build more of these. You got all that?”

Bellamy and Octavia nodded. Raven reached into her pack and dug out a couple of walkie-talkies. “I know the range blows massive chunks on these things, but within a few hundred meters we should still be able to communicate. I tried a couple things but I can’t guarantee any improvement.” She handed one over to Bellamy, and kept the other one. “Quick comm check, ok?”

After a few minutes of testing, the group came back together around Clarke and Raven.

Clarke looked at the siblings and spoke, her urgency rising as she talked. “Whatever happens, you guys, if you even think you’re likely to be caught, you have to destroy this thing. They cannot know we know how they control the Reapers. Their guards did see me when they used their own tone generator, but I’m hoping their bosses never found that out.”

After a few moments of silence, Raven chuckled weakly. “No pressure, you guys.”

The tension slowly broke as Octavia and Bellamy each gave Clarke a small smile. “We’ll guard this with our lives, but we’ll try to get it back here in one piece,” Octavia declared.

Abby said, “Remember, we’re going to head back the way we came to try and make camp in a safer area. So we might be a bit of a further walk.”

“Go, now,” Clarke said, shooing the small group off in the direction of the underbrush. Very soon, the rustling died away as the guard, plus the siblings, disappeared into a copse of trees.

To Raven, Clarke asked, “Can you find out more about their communications? Find a way in, kind of?”

“Better believe I’ll do my best.” Raven then sighed. “I guess I have to wait to find something to sit on before I try and listen in, though.”

About a half hour to an hour later, the larger group of the two remaining guards, plus Abby, Clarke and Raven were in a level clearing amid the forest, with space enough for the two tents now nearly ready. Luckily, the ground was hard soil and not rock, so they could secure the tents reasonably well.

Raven, seated on a nearby rock, wore a small earphone and a look of intense concentration as she delicately touched switches and dials on her radio. The walkie-talkie was on another nearby rock.

Clarke tugged at the last rope now secured by a piton, and judged the tent sleepworthy. She went to the other tent and tested its ropes too. The inner metal roof supports all felt sturdy, as well. “Looks good, I think,” she said out loud.

Murmurs of agreement went around the clearing, and Abby said, “All right. We can probably have some rations—”

She looked around uncertainly.

Clarke stood stock-still, listening as well. The trees had started rustling, as though a sudden wind were blowing past them. Then overhead, high-pitched squealing chirps heralded birds frantically racing away, off to the east.

“Acid fog! Tents! Now!” bellowed Clarke, her heart racing even as she’d fully expected this to happen.

The guards dove for one of the tents, and Abby, Clarke and Raven, grabbing up her radio and walkie-talkie in the process, got into the other one and zipped the entrance tight. A few moments later, the poisonous choking gas buffeted the tent as it roared past them.

Raven, huffing as she rearranged herself to ease her leg into a better position, sat with her back to one corner of the tent. She spread her legs and set the radio in between her knees. After a moment’s thought, she hooked up what looked like a small display to it and disconnected the earpiece.

Meanwhile, Abby, seated at the corner nearest to Raven, grabbed for the walkie-talkie, barking into it, “Bellamy! Octavia! Scott! Do any of you read me?”

A faint garbled hiss came back, followed by silence.

Abby tried hailing them again, but got no response. She cursed, “Damnit!” After forcing calm on herself, she said to the other two, “Assuming that they aren’t dead, I hope they know the forests well enough to get back here.”

Raven nodded. “Yeah. They’ve been here since the beginning, and you saw Octavia. She’s not gonna let a little acid fog get in the way of attacking Mount Weather.”

Abby looked away. “I hope she knows she can’t take them on now, even if she’s miraculously found some way in.”

“Bellamy’s with her,” Clarke reassured. “He’ll keep her from doing something reckless.”

The irony of asserting that was not lost on Clarke, but when it came to Octavia, Bellamy had always been one to try and keep his sister from harm – at least as he saw it.

The steady noise of the jamming signal abruptly shifted on Raven’s radio. She perked up and called, “I heard this before, too, but the acid fog rolled in before I could say anything! Here, listen closely.”

Abby frowned. “Are those… voices?”

“I couldn’t swear to it,” mused Raven, “But it kinda does. And the carrier wave looks different on the scope too. It’s like they’re not jamming this frequency, and we didn’t notice it before because they only use it for near homebase transmissions.”

Clarke grinned. “So we can listen in on Mount Weather?”

Raven smirked. “Hell to the yes, princess.”

Clarke chuckled. “Get on it, mechanic!”

Abby broke in, saying, “Wait a second. That just sounds like garbled voices. How is this going to help us at all?”

Raven turned to look at Abby. “These are probably encrypted communications. If I can crack it, we’re good to go!”

With that, Raven set to work, and Clarke sat back, letting herself relax a bit. While Bellamy and Octavia hadn’t yet returned, at least Raven had already proven herself just as quick on the ball as in the other world, and without Finn making things awkward, it was just a matter of time until she would see Lexa again.

She closed her eyes, and this time instead of feeling the hard yellow blast of radiation, a hazy daydream of an intelligent green-eyed, brown-haired woman, whose eyes only softened for one Clarke Griffin, floated through her mind.

Chapter Text

After they judged sufficient time to have passed, Abby had Clarke cautiously unzip the tent opening. When no orange-tinged air drifted in, Clarke opened the flap the rest of the way and exited the tent, stepping aside to let her mother come out next, followed by Raven, who handed out the radio for Clarke to grab onto for a moment so she could get to her feet more easily.

Abby went to the other tent and called, “It’s safe!”

The guards exited their tent soon after and resumed watch positions, one at each end of the path that opened out to the clearing the tents currently occupied. Abby remembered the walkie-talkie and switched it back on, then depressed the button to talk. “Octavia! Bellamy! Scott! Come in.” She let go of the button again, chewing her lip as she darted glances between the forest trail and the walkie.

Clarke started to wonder if she hadn’t screwed things up horrifically as seconds passed with no answer. Abby tried calling them again. Clarke’s vision began to tunnel; her hands grew cold as a sudden roar sounded in her ears. I’ve killed them I fucked up I’ve killed them I screwed the wrong thing up in the timeline I’vekilledthe—

“Come in! Griffin, come in!” blared Scott’s voice from the walkie’s speaker. Clarke gasped, rocking back as though a physical blow had struck her in the solar plexus. Her legs began to shake as her mother quickly responded, alerting Scott that they were all right.

Clarke staggered over to a nearby rock and sat heavily on it, dropping her head into her hands, her elbows resting on her knees as she took deep, shuddering breaths.

“Are you all right, Clarke?!” Raven’s hand clasped her shoulder.

Clarke looked up at Raven, seated on the rock next to hers. “I thought they were dead,” she croaked. She swallowed hard, trying not to let her relief overwhelm her. Raven’s grip on her shoulder helped calm her as the other girl whispered, “Easy, Clarke. They’re alive, okay?”

Abby rushed up and knelt in front of Clarke, taking her hands. “Clarke, they’re safe! They have Lincoln and the frequency, just like you planned.” Abby smiled and gently squeezed, prompting Clarke to clasp her mother’s hands more firmly, taking strength from her mother’s grip.

“I thought for a second there…” Clarke couldn’t finish that sentence, but Abby nodded in understanding.

“It’s never easy, honey, when you’re a leader. But you asked them to take a risk and they accepted it, and your gamble paid off. Now come, let’s get some food into you while we wait for them to rendez-vous with us.”

After a small snack of a nutrition bar and some water, Clarke did have to admit she felt better and more alert. Her mother went to stand next to the tents, sweeping her gaze this way and that in case more acid fog came. Raven, meanwhile, had gone back to her radio, muttering to herself as she deciphered the Mount Weather signals on the one unjammed frequency.

Finally, she nodded to herself and looked over at Clarke, who was nursing her small mug of water. “I think I’ve got it. The encryption’s in the way the frequencies are modulated. They’re using a phase distortion, which is a simplified QAM. I think Sinclair and I can program a DSP to undo it, but it’ll take some time.”

Clarke chuckled. “Half of that went over my head, but I’ll take your word for it that you’ve got the right method.”

Raven grinned at Clarke. Before she could say anything, heavy footfalls got their attention: Bellamy, Octavia and Scott were all carrying an insensate Lincoln and half-walking, half-staggering as they came to the clearing. Once within the clearing proper, they carefully set Lincoln down and stood, breathing heavily. Lincoln looked very badly bedraggled, with several days’ growth of beard and several cuts on his arms and face.

Octavia, Clarke noted, was blinking rapidly even as she tried schooling her features into blankness. Lincoln’s condition had affected her badly the previous time, too, Clarke recalled. On this occasion, however, Octavia simply barked in clipped tones, “Raven, we’ve got your tone frequency.” She dug into her backpack and pulled out the tone generator, handing it over as Raven approached.

Raven peered at the locked frequency and muttered, “Seventeen-sixty Hertz. Ish, anyway.” More loudly, she said to Bellamy, Octavia and Scott, “Thanks.”

Clarke came up next to Raven and added her own thanks, saying, “You’ve helped more than you can possibly know, you guys. I’ve been talking with my Mom about ways to help Lincoln and I’m sure we’ll get him back to how he was before, Octavia. That’s a promise.”

Octavia nodded rapidly, but otherwise said nothing. To Bellamy, Clarke said, “What happened?”

As in the old timeline, they had spotted a door entering into what they thought was a rock face, and gotten it open just in time to escape the acid fog. Inside were a number of four-wheeled vehicles of the type Clarke distantly remembered seeing in old movies. They had run across two Reapers, one of them Lincoln, and quickly used the tone generator, provoking the Reapers to kneel and crawl away from the sound when they hit the right frequency. After some debate, they’d decided to knock out both the Reapers and grab Lincoln. Octavia had wanted to explore more and find a way into Mount Weather, but Scott had nixed that, with Bellamy agreeing, pointing out they were better off escaping than risking getting caught.

Clarke, by now feeling completely recovered from her near-faint and sure on her feet, took point as she announced, “We should take him to the dropship, not Camp Jaha. When he wakes up he’ll be dangerous and we need to secure him.”

“I don’t like this, Clarke,” Abby replied. “As it is we were supposed to make camp and travel only during the day. It’ll be bad enough at night without also dragging along a ninety-kilo man who’s liable to wake up and become violent at any moment.”

Clarke paced back and forth, her mind racing. Last time, Bellamy and Octavia had enlisted Scott’s help on their own to get Lincoln to the dropship, and then only alerted Clarke after the fact. That plan would work again, she decided.

“How’s this, Mom? Bellamy, Octavia and Scott take Lincoln to the dropship by themselves. You already know that Bell and O know these woods, especially near the dropship. The rest of us will go back to Camp Jaha and find what supplies we can, then go to the dropship as soon as possible.”

Abby tapped her finger against her mouth, considering. She nodded slowly to herself and then nodded towards the Blakes. “All right. Scott, you stay with them every step of the way and keep them safe.” To the group as a whole, she ordered, “Let’s get the tents down and get moving as quickly as we can!”

Luckily, contrary to her mother’s fears, they managed to make Camp Jaha just as dusk turned to twilight. Abby released the guards to their usual duties and dispatched Raven to meet Sinclair to work on a decoder for the Mount Weather radio signals. She then said to Clarke, “Get some clean jars or jugs. Fill them about halfway with water, and get some clean syringes and a surgical kit from Medical. If Jackson’s there and gives you a hard time—”

“—I’ll just ask him if he wants you tearing him a new one in three, two, one.” Clarke grinned as her mother tried to restrain a chuckle. “I’ll come over to the still?”

“Yes. We’ll try to get clean alcohol in both a twenty-five/seventy-five and fifty-fifty mixture. If one isn’t strong enough the other should be. The thing that worries me is that I have no idea what else went into Lincoln’s conditioning. They could have used drugs to enhance the conditioning as well as keep them coming back to the mountain.” Abby frowned. “If that’s true, the stress of detox could easily kill him, as could the wrong injection of alcohol as our makeshift sedative.”

“We’ll figure things out, Mom,” Clarke reassured. “But first, let’s get to Lincoln quickly and keep him alive.”

The two nodded at each other and went on their separate ways.

At Medical, Clarke thankfully found no-one inside the tent. She set about quickly assembling a kit of the necessary equipment, and found two empty one-liter plastic jugs as well. She hunted around for any ethanol that might have been used to sterilize medical supplies when isopropyl alcohol couldn’t be used, but came up empty except for a couple of ethanol wipes to clean skin before an injection. She grabbed them on general principle, adding them to the supplies and syringes kit.

Getting the water required trying to fill the jugs in the small bathroom in the Ark proper without accidentally running out the limited capacity of the system. The showers were strictly timed, but the sinks for hand-washing were on the honor system. People were supposed to write down how much they used. Clarke wanted to write Murphy’s name down, but found she couldn’t. As much as he’d been a jerk and at times a danger to others, he didn’t really deserve being made the butt of everyone’s suspicions.

Finally, she scribbled “Abigail Griffin” in a half-decent approximation of her mother’s signature, and noted the water meter amount. If Supplies wanted to get in the Chancellor’s face over a deemed medically necessary usage of water, they could damn well try.

At the still, they lucked out: Monty’s still had been appropriated to distill pure (well, technically, the 95% azeotrope) ethanol, which was added as a spike to various ersatz liquors being made from what supplies could be scrounged from the Ark. Two plastic jugs full of a water-ethanol solution later, Abby and Clarke were ready to get on the move.

The return to the dropship in the eerie moonlit night hit Clarke in the gut. She had let time paper over the immediate, visceral truth of the human cost of her – their – first victory at the dropship. As she and her mother swung their flashlights around, she saw the charred, blackened earth and the half-burnt skeletons of Grounder soldiers who had been caught in the furious hydrazine blasts.

A brief touch on her shoulder stopped Clarke, who turned to look at her mother. Abby was blinking rapidly, breathing hard as though she was pushing against something. She shook her head, dismay showing on her face in the indirect light. “How could we have sent you down to this, Clarke?”

Clarke opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, realizing she really had nothing to say that could assuage her mother right then. Abby continued in a soft monotone. “Every time I try to think you and your friends aren’t soldiers, I see and hear things you’re doing and have done.”

They stayed rooted near the entrance to the wide clearing for several more moments.

A roar from inside the dropship sent a jolt through Clarke, who rushed pell-mell for the dropship door, thundering past Scott standing guard on the lower level, over to the ladder and poking her head up through the round opening to the second level, even as Lincoln let loose another ear-shattering, heart-rending roar of pain and anger.

Clarke shone her flashlight at the chained and restrained Lincoln, in almost exactly the same position as he’d been in last time. Octavia, her coat off, was soaking a cloth in some water and trying to dab off the worst of the blood on Lincoln’s face. Her face was haggard with worry.

Abby came up a few seconds later, and as she stood, she took in the scene before her, her face growing more appalled with each second. “My God,” she breathed. “The stress will kill him!”

At Bellamy’s frown and muttered, “How?” Abby responded, even as she knelt near Octavia.

“He may be big and strong, but his system’s flooded with adrenalin. That boosts the heart rate, and with him trying to escape his restraints, if he’s also going through withdrawal—” Abby peered closely at Lincoln, who had momentarily gone quiet. “He’s sweating more than I’d expect. Probably a side effect of withdrawal. And look, see here?”

She shone her flashlight at Lincoln’s neck, carefully taking Octavia’s cloth and washing some of the blood away. “There are small needle marks.”

“Shit,” muttered Bellamy.

Abby barked, “We’ve got no time to waste. Clarke, get the twenty-five percent mix out first. Let’s try to calm him down without accidentally putting him under. Bellamy – Octavia – hold down his arm. I need to find a vein and inject on the first try.”

As if to punctuate how hard that would be, Lincoln jerked to wakefulness, bellowing at them all, sending Abby and Octavia sprawling, and even Clarke and Bellamy reared back, startled. Clarke winced, remembering how touch-and-go it had been the first time.

She called to Bellamy, “When daybreak hits, go to all the bunkers you know and try to find any medical supplies. They may have stashed away painkillers we can use.”

“Got it. Meantime, let’s help Lincoln, yeah?”

They got to work, amid Lincoln thrashing at his restraints, each bellow and growl likely sending a dagger into Octavia’s heart. Bellamy gripped Lincoln’s right shoulder, trying not to get too close to Lincoln’s snapping teeth.

Clarke’s admiration for Octavia’s resolve only grew as she watched her gripping Lincoln’s right wrist, her jaw set in determination, as she softly murmured, “Lincoln, it’s me. Octavia. You remember me? Octavia? I know you’re in there. Come back to us, please!”

Clarke had, by this time, uncapped the jug and filled the 50 cc syringe all the way with the 25% ethanol mix. She handed it and a wipe to her mother, who, holding her flashlight steady, hunted for a vein and cleaned the caked dirt and blood off with the wipe. Abby called, “All right, hold steady! Bellamy, do you have the tone generator? We might need it, but only as a last resort.”

Clarke shifted and put her knee on Lincoln’s left arm, not quite putting her full weight on it, but enough to try and hold him down as he resisted fiercely. Even so, he nearly threw all of them off twice before Bellamy finally grabbed up the metal box next to him, shoving the power switch to on.

Instantly, Lincoln shifted to cringing, trying to scrabble away from the noise, only collapsing momentarily to fall quiet when Bellamy shut the sound off.

Abby took that moment and plunged the needle home before quickly withdrawing the now-empty syringe and wiping the needle off with the ethanol wipe. Clarke knew it wasn’t totally sanitary, but they didn’t have an unlimited supply and they had a clock: a day and a bit before Lexa would come.

The group collectively heaved a sigh and moved back to watch. Nothing seemed to quite change in Lincoln’s behavior right away, but after a couple of minutes, his head seemed to wobble and his thrashing became less coordinated. Abby said, “Let’s do the fifty-fifty mix now.”

It was still a near thing at times, but two more injections later, the alcohol hitting Lincoln’s bloodstream had finally sedated him enough that his howls lessened to growls, and finally to low, soft grumbles. Octavia, kneeling near him, was finishing cleaning off his face and arms, wiping away the sweat, dirt and remaining blood as she occasionally rinsed her washcloth in a bowl of water next to her.

Abby staggered to her feet and leaned this way and that, trying to work some kinks out of her back. She remarked, “Lincoln has now been injected with the equivalent of about fifty milliliters of pure ethanol. As long as we keep him calm, but not highly dosed, we might be able to safely wean him from whatever he was injected with, which must be a very powerful stimulant.”

Clarke worried her lip as she also stood. “Could he still have heart failure?”

Her mother spread her hands and shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you the risk. We had better assume he might, rather than run the risk that he won’t. I saw you left Scott downstairs to guard. Why didn’t you have him up here to watch him?”

Bellamy replied, “We did, but once we had him restrained I asked him to go downstairs and keep an eye out.”

“All right, fair enough. I, however, am now dead tired and I need sleep. Clarke, I want you back on the way to Camp Jaha by daybreak with one of our walkies, and you tell Marcus he’s in charge until I get back. Bellamy, you do what Clarke said and find those bunker supplies at dawn. Octavia, are you staying?”

“You couldn’t drag me away from here, Chancellor.”

“All right. Where’s a place to sleep here?”

“We rigged up some hammocks,” Clarke offered. Bellamy nodded and said, “We’ll get your mother set up. You should get to sleep.”

Clarke made a weak protest about staying at the dropship longer for form’s sake, but at her mother’s stern look, she knew she’d hit her mother’s limit. Any further independent action would strain things and start a huge argument.

Besides, her mother was right to be concerned about Clarke being away from Camp Jaha too long. Too long, and she would miss Lexa and a chance for a lasting peace.

And besides, she thought a bit smugly, they would have an even better chance of proving Lincoln was truly alive.

“Ai hod yu in.”

 Lexa smiled at Clarke as the two laid next to one another on her luxurious bed in Polis.

 “En ai hod yu in,” Clarke retorted with a grin, basking in the still-recent afterglow of her time making love with Lexa.

 Lexa leaned in for a kiss, but just as she did so, the air around them blasted yellow, then white, searing the world and sending them to oblivion—

Clarke jerked awake, her breaths rapid with fear as she whipped her head left and right, looking around. She clapped her hands to her head and face, then the rest of her body, slowly but surely reassuring herself that she was still in the real world. She swiped the sweat off her forehead with the arm of her coat, then took stock, her breaths slowing. This shit keeps happening to me, and it had better not be a prophecy, Clarke fumed mentally.

Clarke was sitting with her back to the wall of the dropship on the first floor; she had, she now remembered, gone to sleep in that position, not particularly caring how uncomfortable it was. She winced as she shifted, her back protesting. As she stood, she saw Bellamy across from her against the other wall; he was still asleep. Scott wasn’t anywhere to be seen on the first floor, but, Clarke reasoned, he was probably outside.

She was grateful so far that twice now by sheer coincidence, nobody had seen her start awake like that; it would raise too many questions. Any further consideration of that had to be set aside as she looked over to the drape covering the dropship door, and saw a distinct brightening of the outside light.

She grabbed her pack and checked that she wasn’t accidentally taking any necessary medical supplies back. She then headed out of the dropship, calling a good-morning to Scott, who was trooping back up the ramp. He said, “Good luck. I was just about to come and wake you and Bellamy up.”

“Tell Bell I said hi. I have to get going, though,” Clarke said.

“Will do.”

With that, Clarke shifted her pack, settling it comfortably on her shoulders as she began the trek back to Camp Jaha.

Clarke’s travel was, luckily, without incident, and the midmorning sun shone down over the entire valley that the Ark had landed in, lending a comforting glow to the camp as she strode up to the entrance gates, testing the walkie she’d been given. Unfortunately all she could get was staticky words from Scott, which told her that Mount Weather had not lifted the jamming. At least, she hoped, Scott knew to relay to her mother that Clarke had made an attempt at contact.

The gate guards, by now used to people coming and going, let her in without issue. She went to find Marcus Kane, who was in the middle of helping some people dig some soil for a small farm in a grassy area that looked like it had the best soil.

He called, “I’ll take a small break,” to his fellow workers. He turned to Clarke and said, “Where’s your mother? She told me she was taking off with you.”

Clarke nodded. “Mmhmm. We were curing a Reaper.”

“What?” Kane’s eyes bugged out. “You’ve managed it?”

“We think so, anyway. The problem is sedating one of them without overdoing it and killing them. As it is my mom thinks they may die if they are not weaned properly off a drug that the Mountain Men use to keep the Reapers coming back. The Reapers are injected with it probably at least once every few days.”

Kane’s shock slowly evolved to a frown. He replied, “The more I hear about those people—” With a visible effort, he changed the subject. “When is your mother coming back?”

“As soon as Lincoln is guaranteed cured, but that could be another day or two. Bellamy and Octavia are with her, as is one of the guards. She says you’re in charge until she gets back.”

Kane let out a hollow chuckle. “I can’t seem to escape this damn job.” He rubbed his hands, brushing some dirt off them as he continued. “All right, as Acting Chancellor the first thing I’m ordering you to do is stay here until the Grounders come. We can’t risk losing you as an emissary.”

Clarke nodded. “One hundred percent agreed.”

Kane sighed. “Jaha woke up this morning just a while ago. He’s demanding to be released, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to exile him just to keep the peace. He does want to go away, but he seems to believe he has to take everyone with him, and not only volunteers.”

A nagging sense of danger tugged at Clarke as she tried to think. She dimly recalled Jaha had returned to Arkadia, but could not for the life of her remember if she had any reason to believe he’d been a possible threat. She did know Murphy had gone with Jaha last time. Maybe she could talk to him again and convince him to go.

“You should give him some stuff and send him off now. We can’t let the Grounders come across him, or he might just do something to screw it up for us.”

Kane nodded. “You read my mind. I’m getting Thelonious out of my hair right now after I let him make a brief announcement.”

With that, Kane told the farmers he had to take care of something in the Ark, then left Clarke to her own devices.

Murphy’s loud cackled laugh rattled unpleasantly in Clarke’s ears as he lounged on his bed in his quarters.

“Are you serious? Me? Go with Ex-Chancellor Float-You-Float-Me off to the middle of nowhere?” Murphy let out another loud snicker.

Clarke ground out, “Yes.”

“Why? What’s in it for me?”

“You don’t do anything around here anyway. You’ve never gotten along with anyone well enough to be liked. It might suck out there, but at least you might find people who don’t have all these preconceptions about you. You might even pick up a Grounder girlfriend.”

Murphy snorted and rolled his eyes.

Clarke urged, “At least talk to Jaha before he leaves. He might just convince you.”

That, Clarke knew, was one reason he had become Chancellor in the first place. He could be very convincing when he put his mind to it. With that earnest tone in his voice, that ever-present reasonableness that only fractured once he hit the ground, it wasn’t hard to see why he was reasonably popular on the Ark in space.

“But,” warned Clarke, “Do not trust him completely. He may want to go to the City of Light honestly, and he might be good at convincing you it’s in your interest too, but you need to decide for yourself if you really want to do it.”

Murphy sat up and gave Clarke a strange look. “You’re starting to weird me out, princess. Maybe I’ll decide this whole go-or-not-go thing for myself, too, huh?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.” She went to leave the Ark and nearly bumped into the frowning duo of Kane and Jaha as they walked to the main door exiting outside.

“—Don’t blame me for Abby’s decision. I’ve decided to let you head off to wherever you’d like to go, as you seem eager to leave. She sounded like she was willing to lock you up permanently, so consider this a reprieve.”

Clarke trailed behind them as they argued intensely after Kane gestured to the security guard at the main door. Jaha retorted, “Fine, but I am telling you it is a mistake to only allow volunteers to go with me.”

“You’re not taking everyone. That’s final, Thelonious. You can make your case and get volunteers, but you are not the Chancellor anymore, not in the eyes of the people.”

The two men proceeded on outside, and Kane called, “Everyone, your attention please! Stop what you are doing for a moment and gather around.”

Clarke, half-hidden in the hallway still, moved off to a shadowed part of the hall and listened. Jaha made his impassioned speech for people to join him to go to the City of Light, after which Kane announced that reasonable provisions would be allotted to anyone who wanted to go. They had to pack and leave by midafternoon, however, stated Jaha, since he didn’t believe the truce would be extended past the next day and he wanted to leave Grounder lands by then.

Having done about all that she thought she could to keep things going smoothly, Clarke decided to get a shower and try and get some fresh clothes, then get some lunch and see who Jaha would take with him.

A small group of perhaps ten people stood near Jaha at the gate, wearing backpacks and doing final checks to make sure they had everything they were allotted: some rations and water, plus flashlights. Kane had refused to give any of them guns, electing instead to have Sinclair prepare and issue some nonlethal tasers.

Clarke stood some twenty meters away, unable to hear what Jaha was saying to the group, but she did notice he seemed very earnest as he pointed off in the direction she approximately knew the City of Light had to be.

Footsteps crunching on the dry soil got her attention, and she turned, gasping in surprise as she saw Murphy, sporting a similar backpack to the other City of Light people. “What the—?” she blurted.

Murphy gave her a sly half-smile. “Jaha was very persuasive, all right. Don’t ask me how, but he seems to think I have potential.”

“Remember what I said, though. You still have your own mind, Murphy.”

“Yeah, I get it. Free will, blah blah blah. Anyway I’d say it’s been nice seeing you but you and I both know I’d be lying. So I’ll just say don’t get killed by Grounders, and if I get a hot Grounder girlfriend I’ll be sure to bring her by, show you what you’re missing out on.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Get out of here already.”

Murphy offered her a mocking salute as he went to join Jaha, upon which the guards opened the gate, and the one-time Chancellor of over three thousand people left Camp Jaha, seemingly for good.

Clarke devoutly hoped they would never return in this world.

The day wore on, and Clarke found her anxiety mounting as she kept sneaking glances to the forest, wondering when Lexa and her force of troops would show up. They had arrived the previous time as night fell, the ominous flames marking their arrival, portending possible doom.

But this time, who knew?

To take her mind off things, she went to join Jackson in Medical, offering her help with basic services. A few patients did show up, mostly with incidental injuries caused by carelessly handling a garden tool or scraping oneself against a still-sharp metal scrap, and so forth.

She had been distracted enough that she at first didn’t notice the declining brightness of the outside light, but then Clarke realized evening twilight had begun setting in. She dropped the scalpel she’d been polishing, letting it clatter on the tray she’d taken it from, and marched out past the tent flap to a small mound near the gate, from which she could easily see the surrounding trees.

Clarke nearly began pacing in her agitation, but managed to stop herself. She worried her lip even so, wondering when the first signal of her imminent meeting with Lexa was due to come.

The twilight inexorably gave way to full darkness, and as the stars began shining in the sky, Clarke’s eyes began adjusting more and she peered at the forest, willing herself to be able to spot that first orange flicker that heralded the Grounder entrance.

As her luck had it, it was not she who saw the first light.

Someone called, “Out there! Look!”

Clarke’s breath hitched. She squinted in the distance, and sure enough, the faintest flickering orange light could be seen in the woods. Over the next few minutes, some more orange lights also came to life, but not as many in number as in that other world. Instead of there being practically a whole army of Grounder troops from the Trikru, there was instead perhaps only a minor detachment, fitting for a Heda coming to personally negotiate with a new group of people.

Her heart thundered in a steady rhythm against her chest as she slowly walked forward, trying to see where Lexa’s tent would be put up. The orange lights, now visible as flames at the end of tall poles, were now stationary, having been placed into holes dug for the purpose. The vague forms of the troops could be seen as dark shadows moving to and fro as the temporary base was set up.

Murmurs around her made Clarke realize, somewhat belatedly, that the other Sky People were anxiously watching what was going on, as well.

Kane’s footfalls got her attention, and he said tightly, “I am just hoping your instincts and mine are right about this.”

“I think we’re right,” said Clarke. “They would’ve sent a bigger army otherwise, right?”

Loud murmurs arose from the crowd as a white tent billowed up from the ground. Although the flickering orange light in the distance made it hard to make out faces, Clarke was able to see a single figure push the flap aside and march into that tent; there was absolutely no mistaking the way that figure held the pommel of the sword attached to their waist.

She was going to see Lexa again!

Chapter Text

The tall, imposing figure marched towards the gate from the impromptu Grounder camp rapidly forming near Camp Jaha. As it approached within range of the klieg lights mounted on either side of the gate, letting Clarke see that it was a tall bearded man, she had to stifle a gasp. It was Gustus, the one who had nearly derailed the peace negotiations at the failed luncheon in TonDC!

She would have to remember to check Raven’s and Octavia’s pockets if they had that gathering this time around.

Gustus stood a few meters away from the gate and called out loudly, “I wish to speak to Marcus and Clarke.”

Clarke began walking to the gate along with Kane. When they were within touching distance of the gate, Kane spoke first. “I am Marcus Kane, acting for Abigail Griffin, our Chancellor. With me is Clarke Griffin.”

Gustus looked her over briefly and nodded. “You are as described to me, Klark kom Skaikru.” He turned to Kane and said, “We are setting up our camp. At first dawn, Clarke may come to our tent to speak with our Heda. I give our Commander’s word that if you offer no violence, we will do the same, as our temporary truce continues to the morning.”

Kane nodded. “Agreed.”

Gustus inclined his head. “That is all for now,” he concluded before he turned and walked away.

Kane turned to Clarke. “This is it. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Clarke licked her lips briefly, then nodded. “I’ll have to be, won’t I?”

So close, and yet so far. Clarke looked across again at the white tent, now busy with people moving supplies inside, and wondered. Was Lexa remembering? Or had she no idea who Clarke was, and so was merely preparing for their meeting at the formal cut-off of the temporary truce? Or simply extending it, trapping them in perpetual stalemate?

Clarke let out a frustrated groan and looked around. Upon noticing people staring and pointing at her, she grimaced and marched back to the Ark. Finn, meandering around the camp, bumped into her about halfway over. “Oh! Hey, Clarke,” he said. “Um, that armed camp’s little bit much for picking me up, huh?” he joked.

Clarke cracked a small smile at Finn’s attempt at levity and shook her head in the negative. “It’s for the big peace conference that we hope will lead to a permanent truce.” Changing the subject, Clarke asked, “What’ve you been doing the last few days, anyway?”

“I’ve been let out of the stockade, and I’ve been doing basically this and that, whatever someone else needs an extra pair of hands for.” Finn sighed. “It keeps me busy, anyway.”

“Have you been sleeping okay?”

Finn ran his hand through his hair and gazed at the ground for a few moments. “Mostly, I guess. There’ve been a couple of times, though, waking up and not getting back to sleep … ‘cause, y’know.”

Clarke nodded. There had been times in her months away from Camp Jaha when she’d passed sleepless nights replaying, over and over, in her mind, what she’d done and how her victims had died. The worst was when she would see TonDC in her mind’s eye, people suffocating under rubble or bleeding out from a stray shred of metal or wood that had hit them. They had done literally nothing except be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She reached out and held Finn’s forearm for a moment, then withdrew. “I’m going to sleep. Or try to. There’s nothing we can do ‘till tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Finn said, frowning. “I heard them asking for you. Why you?”

Clarke shook her head. “Wish I knew for sure – probably because of the battle at the dropship. But I’m not going to get anywhere pondering it out here tonight. Good night, Finn.”

For a moment, Finn’s face in the semidarkness merged with another Finn’s face, visible only from the flickering indirect light of torches, his eyes radiating his barely-hidden fear as she approached him with her clandestine blade, preparing to end his life, just as far away from each other now as then.

Clarke hastily took a step back, shaking her head at the sudden wave of dizziness that washed over her. She looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath of the cool night air to try and regain her equilibrium.

Finn’s arms had gone out as though to embrace her, but stopped short and let his hands fall to his sides awkwardly. He let out a nervous laugh and said, “Uh, I’ll maybe go… get something from the still.”

Clarke nodded, then turned and headed to her quarters to get ready for bed. Shortly after, she lay on the thin mattress on the metal upper-lower bed rack, staring at the top bunk’s undercarriage in the thin sliver of light from the main hallway.

Trying to shove aside her mind’s accidental juxtaposition of this Finn with the Finn of the other world on the verge of death at her hand, she focused again on Lexa.

What, she wondered, was Lexa doing? Was she sitting quietly in the tent, communing with the previous Commanders for guidance with a new people who were half Mountain in nature, half not?

As that thought bloomed forth, Clarke’s memory turned back to the moment when she’d been given the “Flame” by an alternately aggressive and penitent Titus, who had decided to turn his back on a century of custom and refuse Ontari the chip from Lexa’s body.

“It's the journal of the first Commander.”

A vessel that read POL IS. A red cloth, with COMMANDER emblazoned on it—

Clarke sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes wide, gasping at her flash of insight. Could it be? Could it really be that Sky People and Grounders were truly one and the same, far more than just by shared ancestry to the pre-War human race?

Thirteen stations – thirteen clans – that is way too much of a coincidence!

Clarke sank back to lie prone on her bed, trying to process what this could mean for the alliance she planned to try and remake. But she had to proceed cautiously. Clarke was certain that nobody outside of Titus and whoever were his real underlings (she still couldn’t believe Ontari had fallen for believing Murphy to be the beneficiary of Lexa’s pro-Skaikru rule) knew these secrets or their implications.

It was not beyond consideration that Titus might find a new reason to want her dead if she moved too fast.

Clarke closed her eyes, her mind turning again to Lexa: “The Flame deepens what's already there.”

Lexa had been strong-willed, intelligent, and fearless in battle. She had also been gentle, loving, and willing to open her heart to Clarke.

That wasn’t just an A.I.’s robotic mimicry of humanity: it was a true symbiosis of its incredible computational power with the equally incredible wisdom and foresight Lexa had.

Already, Lexa had unified the twelve disparate clans in her lifetime. That alone put her head and shoulders above the previous Commanders.

Now, Clarke vowed to herself, in this world she would convince Lexa to see past the Mountain to the vistas of permanent peace beyond.

A sharp rapping at the door to Clarke’s shared quarters roused her from a groggy half-sleepiness. She sat up and blinked, just making out Kane who stood in the doorway. She mumbled, “Gimme fifteen minutes to get ready, okay? I am not sure I really slept.”

Kane muttered back, “I didn’t sleep well either.” He shifted on his feet, and she could make out his haggard expression in the light from the hall. “It all rests on you now. I’ve authorized an extra shower ration for you. You look like you could use it.”

Clarke let out a hollow chuckle as she stood up and went to her small locker for her other set of clothes, which were, thankfully, clean. She said to Kane, “Thanks. I’ll meet you at my mother’s office. I need to get one thing before I go to the Grounder camp.”

“All right, Clarke.” With that, Kane left, his footfalls fading away as, she assumed, he went to go quickly check things out in the early morning before reaching the Chancellor’s office.

In the shower, Clarke found herself taking extra care: scrubbing her hair thoroughly after an initial wetting, making sure the rest of her was as squeaky-clean as she could be, and running out the full ten minutes luxuriating under the almost-hot water (the heater had had about twelve hours to work to actually get the stored water warmed up enough, it seemed) before getting her fresh clothes on. The water had helped wake her up, and she felt in reasonably good condition.

She looked at herself in the mirror: while her hair was still straggly and wet from the shower, her face at least looked bright and healthy, and any remaining cuts and bruises from her journey with Anya had mostly faded away.

With that thought, Clarke distinctly remembered the thing she needed to do, and met Kane in her mother’s office. To the man, who looked a bit more alert (although not by much) he said, “I promise I’m not trying to steal anything and that my mother is totally aware of this.”

Kane nodded and gestured. “Go ahead.”

Clarke quickly went through the drawers of her mother’s desk and found a small plastic bag with Anya’s hair in it. She secreted it in the pocket of her coat, then nodded at Kane. Before they could leave, though, Sinclair burst in the door. “Sir? Raven and I have urgent news.”

Kane turned to Clarke. “You want to hear this?”

Clarke nodded. “I can come for a few minutes.”

They strode rapidly to the mechanic shop, Sinclair breathlessly saying, “Raven wasn’t sleeping well so she woke me up and we were working on the decryption. It was a QAM with a feedback loop and we’ve got the pure transmission now.”

At that moment, they burst into the mechanic shop, greeted by a smirking Raven Reyes in front of a radio that was babbling, “… Eastern boundary line. Any sign of activity?”

“Negative,” responded a different voice.

“Any repetition of the unusual approach from yesterday?”

“Also negative.”

“Do we need to use the veil again? Any stragglers?”

“Not at this time, over.”

Clarke grinned. “You did it!”

Raven nodded. “Yep! We just had to use a really simple programmable DSP. Could’ve even done it manually, but this way’s better; it improves the signal to noise ratio.”

Sinclair pointed at the radio. “We have been listening to their communications since”—he checked a datapad—“uh, about four A.M. local time, which would be the old pre-War Eastern time zone.”

“It’s mostly status reports like this, but we’ve already learned a few things,” chimed in Raven. “When they say ‘veil’, they definitely mean the acid fog. They used it just around the time we cracked the encryption; they were probably flushing out any night hunters. That report we just heard must be in case they wanted to catch anyone who hid in a cave and sneaked back into the fog zone.”

“Wait a sec,” breathed Clarke. A frisson of danger set her shivering slightly as she said, “The person said ‘unusual approach’. We got very close to their communications tower the other day. Could this mean they’re spying on us somehow?” How could she have forgotten how the forward observer at TonDC had helped get the range for the missile to land on the right spot? Of course they’d be spying on Camp Jaha at least!

Raven bit her lip and gazed at the floor. Sinclair and Kane both muttered, “Shit!” at the same time.

Kane took a deep breath, then looked around and spoke in a low, level voice as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Let’s assume from now on that there is ground-based radar at Mount Weather, and the suits Clarke described the Mountain Men wearing allow them considerable range. That means we can no longer move about with total impunity, and communications may be compromised. The bottom line is: do they know that we know what they’re up to?”

“Maybe not,” replied Clarke. “If they had, they would have laid a better trap for Scott, Bellamy and Octavia at the place where they picked up Lincoln. The acid fog hit just around the time they found the entrance, so the Mountain Men probably assumed either the fog would get them or the Reapers would.” Clarke heaved a sigh of relief. “That means they don’t know about our tone generator.”

Kane nodded slowly. “So maybe they assumed your friends got lucky beating Lincoln and taking him away. From now on, I’m ordering minimum use of radios. Raven, Sinclair, can you come up with a way to encrypt our communications to a better level than they can—no, wait.” He leaned against the table and through gritted teeth, cursed, “Damnit!”

Sinclair nodded. “If we start encrypting, there’s only one explanation for that, as the Grounders don’t use radio.”

Raven said, “We don’t need to encrypt communications electronically. We could just use code words, right? Like, say, ‘I caught a deer’, and ‘deer’ could really mean … well, you figure it out.”

Kane stood ramrod straight, giving his final orders. “Okay. Clarke’s overdue for her visit with the Grounders. I’ve got to figure out how to evade Mount Weather surveillance without making it look obvious. You two – figure out how to shore up our communications security. That radio is also top-secret. Nobody sees it or uses it except the four of us in this room and Abby, when she gets back.”

The front gate opened before Clarke as morning twilight broke to full dawn, the sun just beginning to rise above the horizon. One warrior stood ready to escort Clarke, and fell into step with her as she stepped past the threshold of the gate.

Unlike the previous time, when the ground had fairly bristled with brownish camouflage tents, this time one large tent, which was an off-white beige-brown color, rose above the ground. A smaller brown tent sat in the background, presumably for the warriors guarding the vicinity. Clarke counted two at the entrance to Lexa’s tent, and including the one now with her, there were probably ten or fifteen more.

Definitely enough to protect a Heda, but not anywhere near enough to start a war. A good omen, Clarke decided as she passed the passageway lined with white rocks. They went down into the shallow ravine, then back up towards the tent, whose entrance Clarke could now see was lined on either side with banners bearing the orange biohazard symbol of the Trikru. And as in the previous time, two ragged flags atop the tent also advertised that Lexa was from TonDC.

Gustus came up in front of her and nodded. “Klark kom Skaikru, you have so far followed our instructions. However, if you mean harm to our Heda, know that I will slit your throat.”

Clarke stared back at Gustus, holding his gaze for a moment. He moved to pull the tent flap aside, curtly gesturing her inside.

Clarke took a moment, slowly exhaling through her nose as she readied herself. This was it; she would see Lexa and, one way or another, reforge the alliance and remake this world.

She stepped forward, past the tent flap, and stopped to look around: the tall warrior she’d seen the previous time wasn’t there, but that was of minor consequence, as tensions weren’t as high this time. The tall sturdy wooden pole was just off to her right, and to her left was an oblong rectangular table, lined with a worn reddish-orange felt and a few rolled-up maps.

She began slowly walking forward, taking in the table on the right; she did a double-take as she saw that this time, it was bare of any rocks or other paraphernalia. So, she realized, Lexa was not wargaming an attack on Camp Jaha last night this time around.

She turned now to face forward, finally resting her eyes on the woman who had shared herself, body and soul, with Clarke Griffin.

Lexa was truly alive!

Clarke gulped and stopped short, trying not to shake as she took in the warrior before her, in the same wooden throne, her legs crossed, and her long, elegant fingers holding a knife in front of her as her intense green eyes took in Clarke’s appearance. Clarke realized her hands had unconsciously clenched into fists as her tension rose with each step into the tent.

Clarke took a breath, unclenching her fists, letting the taut feeling within her drain as she filled her mind with memories: Her first kiss with Lexa in this very tent, feeling Lexa’s hand in hers after the Commander had sworn fealty to Clarke, kissing Lexa again in the sunlit chamber at Polis.

Clarke had to work to keep the smile from forming on her face as she deliberately took two more steps, standing now at the edge of the animal pelt on which the throne rested. She stared at Lexa, who now idly eyed her knife. The other girl was physically just as she remembered: the black war paint (was it mixed with her own blood, wondered Clarke), her sharp nose and her elegant jawline all combining to lend an intense fierceness to her overall expression.

This was Lexa, and yet not: This was the Heda of the Twelve Clans, successor to an unbroken chain of Commanders stretching back to a woman who had surely come from the sky, as Clarke had. The implications of that were still churning in the back of Clarke’s mind. For now, however…

“So, Clarke of the Sky People, you stand before me: the one who burned three hundred of my warriors alive.” With that, her eyes shifted, fixing Clarke with that same intense green-eyed gaze.

If only Lexa knew what that voice did to her!

Clarke, reminding herself that she had gone toe to toe, verbally, with this woman several times, kept her voice steady as she replied, “And you’re the one who sent them to kill me and my people.”

Lexa’s face turned up, her gaze now level as she deliberately, with those perfect yet elegant fingers, held the end of the knife handle as she pointed the blade into the arm of her chair. Clarke fought to keep her eyes on Lexa and not on those fingers (those same fingers which had caressed Clarke’s body, moving down to curve inside her as they worked to bring her to climax).

By now attuned to Lexa’s expressions, Clarke noticed something she hadn’t the previous time: Lexa’s jaw worked in a slight side to side movement, just before she said, “And you believe you are justified?”

That hadn’t happened last time. Clarke took it between the eyes and shot back, “If you were told of an attack on your people, would you not take every step you could to protect them and defeat the attackers?”

Indra barked in Trigedasleng, “She won only because Lincoln helped her slaughter my warriors!”

Lexa lifted her hand upright (Oh god, do not think about what those fingers can do, Clarke admonished herself), turning to Indra to reply, also in Trigedasleng. “And you would not use a person if one came to you and told you where and how to defend a village?”

Indra shifted and with ill-grace, grunted and gave Clarke a slightly less baleful look.

Lexa lowered her hand again. “We may not like what you did, but we cannot say you should have simply allowed my soldiers to kill you without a fight.”

Clarke took a calculated risk, and bowed her head slightly. “Emo gonplei ste odon.”

Lexa’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and Indra lifted an eyebrow. Indra said, “I am not sure whether to appreciate that you know something of our rituals, or be amazed at your nerve. You remind me of your comrade Octavia.”

“Truly I mean no insult,” Clarke said. “Your warriors fought hard and well. I can admit that to you both.” It was the least, Clarke thought, that she could do to atone for those three hundred deaths on her conscience.

Silence reigned for a few moments in the tent as the two Trikru sized Clarke up, assessing and reassessing her as Clarke, in turn, looked at Indra then Lexa.

Clarke decided to seize the initiative. “Commander, I am going to reach into my pocket. I give my word I am not carrying any weapons; I’m bringing something for you.” She held her hand out to her side, then slowly reached into her coat pocket. Even so, she could see Indra’s eyes tighten, and Lexa’s grip on her knife solidify just a fraction. Gustus, off to the side, shifted to full alertness. She withdrew Anya’s hair from her pocket. “Anya would have wanted you to have this, Commander. She told me you were her second. We escaped the Mountain together.”

“Impossible,” barked Indra. “No-one has ever left the Mountain alive. And Anya died in the same fire you set off to finish off my warriors!”

Lexa’s hand came up again, silencing Indra. She then turned her hand, palm out towards Clarke. Their fingers nearly touched as Clarke cautiously reached out, placing the bag gently into Lexa’s hand. Lexa shook out the hair into her lap, then handed back the empty bag to Clarke, who returned it to her pocket, again moving slowly.

Lexa was now holding the hair, peering at it this way and that, her jaw again working subtly. Clarke remembered Lexa did this when she was emotionally invested, and so far, it had happened twice: once when Lexa was testing Clarke to see if she would defend what she did, and again as she memorialized Anya.

Indra frowned. “And how do we know you didn’t just cut some other girl’s hair?”

To Clarke, it sounded as though Indra was asking mainly out of normal suspicion, rather than her heightened state of distrust the previous time.

“Shof op,” barked Lexa. Her hands ran over the braidwork of Anya’s hair and she nodded slightly to herself as she looked at it. “It is hers.” Lexa carefully set the braid aside in a nook of her throne, and looked at Clarke again. “She was my mentor before I was called to lead my people. How came you to have this?”

She rested the knife in her lap, deliberately stroking the blade as she did so. (Clarke tried not to remember Lexa stroking parts of her)

Time to slant the story again, Clarke thought. She nodded. “The Mountain Men had me trapped, and they still hold some of my people, just as they do your people. They have hundreds of Grounders in cages in the mountain, and they use your people’s blood to heal themselves; it’s used as medicine. I saw them with my own eyes as I escaped. Anya was in one of the cages; I managed to set her free and we fought our way out.”

Lexa sat up straight, her steady gaze fixed on Clarke. “Did she die well?”

Clarke nodded. “Yes. She died by my side, trying to get a message to you: we must join together to defeat the mountain. To save your people, as well as mine.”

Lexa blinked rapidly, her mouth set in the same stern expression she’d had since Clarke had handed over Anya’s hair. Finally, she said, “And you would have me ally with you on your word alone?” She tilted her head slightly and continued, “It is a very long leap, Clarke, from a short truce to an alliance. I am prepared, right now, to extend our truce indefinitely under the same conditions: free travel within Trikru lands, no violence offered on either side. Anything more than that requires an offer to prove Skaikru’s worth.”

“I understand,” replied Clarke. “I did come to make you an offer, to prove our worth to you. The Mountain Men are not just bleeding your people for medicine. They are also making the Reapers from some of your people.”

Clarke looked at Indra, then Lexa. It was now or never; the knife-edge could tip to alliance or permanent stalemate. At least without Finn’s actions intensifying the bad feelings, Clarke could give the alliance that extra push.

She held Lexa’s gaze, not looking away for a second as she said, with as much earnestness as she could muster, “I can turn Reapers back into men.”

Lexa stood, then walked down from her pedestal with slow, methodical steps. She halted near Clarke, their chests nearly touching, so tantalizingly close. Lexa’s expression, ruthless yet calm, set Clarke’s heart racing as she said, “And you can prove this to me, Clarke?” (God, how she loved hearing the ‘k’s in her name when Lexa spoke it)

“I’ve done it – with Lincoln.”

Indra, off to the side, spat, “That natrona!” To Clarke’s practiced ears, Indra’s voice wasn’t as vehement as in the previous timeline. Stopping Finn was definitely paying its dividends again, Clarke decided.

Lexa’s voice took on a challenging, slightly biting edge as her lip curled ever so subtly. “Show me.”

Clarke mentally shouted triumphantly, Victory at last!

Chapter Text

Outside the tent, Clarke said to Lexa and Indra, “I need to go to Marcus, to tell him of the extended truce and to tell him we’re going to Lincoln.”

Both women nodded in acknowledgement.

“Also, is Nyko here?” added Clarke.

Lexa turned to Indra, who nodded curtly. “He is in the forest, gathering some herbs to make medicines.”

“He should come,” urged Clarke. “He knows Lincoln, and would want to know his friend is safe. Besides, if we are lying, he would know from looking at Lincoln.”

Indra just let out a small grunt and gave Clarke a baleful glance before gesturing to one of her warriors and barking an order in Trigedasleng to fetch Nyko.

Lexa nodded towards Camp Jaha. “We should go, Clarke.”

As they walked, Clarke let the reality seep into her: she had achieved her second crucial goal! As the tension left her back, freeing her with each step she took, excitement took hold; this was an occasion to cheer and shout and laugh! She was on the verge of letting her giddy happiness get the better of her when she looked over at Lexa, who had fallen into step with her, with Indra remaining a pace or two behind.

“You seem happy. Why? All we have is a truce, and you have not proven anything yet.” Lexa’s eyes didn’t radiate hostility or guardedness; she was making an observation, not an accusation.

Clarke realized she had let a small smile form on her face even as she’d tried not to scandalize either leader. She schooled her face into impassiveness and looked at Lexa, reminding herself to keep a proper distance and not reach out to stroke the other girl’s cheek or any number of other minor things you did to show your love for another.

Deciding to go for a slightly formal tone, she said, “I apologize for seeming … inappropriate.” She let out a controlled breath and continued, saying, “It’s just that we’ve all been worried and anxious, and I have especially, since you asked to speak to me. You could have come with an entire army and we wouldn’t have been able to do more than delay the final outcome. This… this is really the best thing we could hope for.”

“A fair statement,” agreed Lexa. “Nyko spoke with me briefly about one of your people, the one you call Finn.”

Clarke couldn’t quite stop the chill down her spine.

Lexa, apparently unaware of any change in Clarke, continued in her modulated, even tone. “I normally do not require involvement in trivial punishments, but as that incident involved a Sky Person, he was correct in notifying me. He explained that you stopped a possibly much greater calamity.”

By now, they were nearly at the gate. Clarke turned to face Lexa, who responded by facing her as well.

“I had to stop him. He would have—” Clarke had to look away, centering herself for a moment before she could look at Lexa again. “I’m just grateful I managed to stop him before he did something crazy.”

“It is fortunate indeed that you did.” Lexa shifted, clasping her hands behind her back as she said, “Otherwise it would have required us to have him for more than simply farming and gathering food to make up for what he did. It is our highest law, Clarke: jus drein jus daun. Blood must have blood.”

“Nyko said that too, up in the village,” Clarke said, remembering.

“Yes. Although strictly, jus drein jus daun means if you kill one of us, we would demand and kill the one who did it, it also means for any wrong thing done, we ask for repayment in equal measure.”

Clarke started, then wondered if she ought to ask a question that Lexa had not truly answered in that other world or this one. That night with Finn, she had offered herself in his place, pointing out what she had done. Lexa had only said, “But he is the one who is guilty.”

Lexa, catching Clarke’s indecision, let her hands fall to her side. Her eyebrows lifted momentarily as she said, “You have a question.”

Clarke turned her head to the right for a moment, seeing Marcus approaching the gate. She turned back. She looked into Lexa’s eyes, seeking – she wasn’t sure what, exactly; was it understanding? Acceptance? Judgement? Concern or the lack of it?

Finally, she blurted, “Then why not kill me as soon as I came to your tent? Why not take three hundred of us for your three hundred?” Why did you not take me in Finn’s place?

Indra, off to Clarke’s left, snorted. “You must be a fool to ask such a thing.”

Lexa turned to give Indra a sharp glance, then turned back. She took a measured breath, then replied, “Hurting or killing someone without just cause is one thing. A battle is another, and you proved the winner in a battle – one you yourself conceded our warriors fought as hard as they could.” Her eyes were unreadable.

Clarke pressed her lips together, lowering her gaze for a moment as she reflected. That might not have been the answer I wanted, but … maybe it is the one I needed to know, she decided.

She looked up at the gate, seeing Marcus looking at her, concern evident on his features. To Lexa she said, “I have to go speak to him.”

Clarke went to close the last few meters and said through the gap in the gate, “Hey!” She let herself finally grin as she looked at the older man. “We’ve got a permanent truce. We don’t hurt them, they don’t hurt us.”

Marcus closed his eyes and nearly sagged in relief, ducking his head as he heaved a relieved sigh. After a moment, he looked back at Clarke. “So what happens now?”

“I have to take Lexa and Indra”—Clarke pointed, introducing the two women briefly—“to see Lincoln. My mom’s already at the dropship with Bellamy and Octavia. Can I get the walkie I left here last night? It’s probably in my quarters in my locker.”

Kane nodded. “Not a problem. But listen, Clarke, remember what we know about the Mountain.”

“Yeah. We’ll try to stay in the tree cover, and I won’t use the radio until I absolutely have to.”

“Okay. Wait here a minute.” Kane turned to one of the guards near him and said, “Find Clarke Griffin’s quarters and bring me the radio she left.” The man took off, leaving the two alone again. “Would I be able to talk to them?”

Clarke shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” Louder, she called to the two women, “Do you want to meet Marcus—formally, that is? He is our current leader until my mother, Abigail, gets back.”

Their movements radiated caution, but they did approach.

Clarke conducted introductions in formal tones. “This is Marcus of the Sky People. Marcus, you know Commander Lexa of—” to Lexa, she asked, “Do I say Tree People, or?”

Lexa stepped forward, her level gaze taking Kane in as she spoke. “I am Heda Leksa, leader of the Twelve Clans, of the Tree People.”

Indra stepped up shoulder to shoulder with Lexa. Clarke said, “And this is Indra of the Tree People. She is their leader.”

Indra inclined her head the barest fraction and said, “Ai laik Indra kom Trikru. Ai laik Wocha.”

Kane bowed his head briefly, then said, “On behalf of all of the Sky People, I thank you for your offer of a permanent truce. It means a great deal to me personally that we have achieved peace between our peoples.”

“I hope your other leader, the one named Abigail, is as well-spoken as you are,” replied Lexa.

Kane let out a short chuckle. “I think you have no fears on that score. She will say what she believes, and say it without hesitation or second thoughts. You will meet her when Clarke takes you to one of your people – Lincoln, I believe.”

At that moment, the guard returned with Clarke’s radio. Kane took it and handed it through the gap in the gate to her. “Good luck, Clarke.” After a moment, he said, “Did you want to discuss anything else?” He’d been perceptive enough to pick up on the tentativeness of the truce as well.

Clarke paused, wondering. Had she already pushed the good will of Trikru as far as it would bend? Or could she ask now for the right of free passage to collect the Farm Station people? That, she knew as the other Arkers did not, would not only require getting Indra’s permission, which she would very likely (if grudgingly) grant on the basis of the truce, but very likely Nia’s as well.

And Nia had every reason to want to frustrate and sabotage Lexa, even if Lexa nominally had authority over all the Twelve Clans.

Which might, as horror dawned on Clarke, run up to and including a pre-emptive massacre of everyone at Farm Station just to spite Lexa and damage her coalition. Kane and her mother would be forced to demand recompense.

Clarke bit her lip. She could not provoke a war between the Trikru and Azgeda – or worse, a three-way war between the Sky People, Trikru and Azgeda.

She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

“You're driven to fix everything for everyone, but you can't fix this.”

Lexa was right. Not this Lexa, but she would very likely tell Clarke the exact same thing. She couldn’t fix the Farm Station problem without a formal alliance, even though she wanted to get moving as soon as possible. And it might even take more than that – it might take victory over the Mountain, this time with Lexa beside her every step of the way.

So, with great reluctance, Clarke looked up at Lexa and Indra and simply said, “Let’s find Nyko and be on our way.”

Without further ado, the trio left Camp Jaha, found Nyko near the smaller tent, and headed swiftly into the trees, making their way to the dropship.

Conversation had been short and limited to briefly reminding Clarke to evade traps that had either not yet been disarmed or were meant to catch wildlife and other game.

However, Lexa was never more than a meter away from Clarke, even as Indra and Nyko took up the rear and oscillated between nearly behind them and lagging back a few meters.

Once they could see the peak of the dropship in the distance, Clarke called a halt and turned to face the three Grounders. “I need to warn you that the grounds around the dropship still have some of the remains of your warriors. We had no chance to clear the area, as the Mountain Men captured us as soon as we thought it safe to leave the ship again, and we have since moved permanently to Camp Jaha.”

“We are prepared,” replied Indra. “Continue.”

Lexa’s hand went to the hilt of her sword as she gestured for Clarke to resume the lead. Neither woman exactly looked friendly at the moment, but they seemed to accept the reality of coming across the lands across which one had once fought a battle.

Clarke remembered her radio and briefly activated it, saying only, “This is Clarke approaching. Over.”

A staticky response came back soon. “Clarke! Progress is good. Over.”

Clarke nodded to herself and picked up the pace, the others easily keeping up.

They neared the slight crest that heralded the entrance to the dropship area, and Clarke looked to her right and behind her, trying to assess what they would think. She had warned them, but hearing about something and seeing it are two different things.

Indra’s nostrils flared slightly as she stepped into the middle of the clearing. Lexa, for her part, ground her jaw slightly, while Nyko’s expression remained impassive.

Lexa eyed Clarke with a hooded gaze. “You must have been desperate indeed, Clarke, to do this.”

“I was. We were. If there had been any other way—” she bit off. She paced, rubbing her forehead and gritting her teeth as she tried not to tie herself in knots wondering what Lexa must be thinking; was she still suspicious? Distrustful? Clarke didn’t like not being able to read Lexa. Finally, she looked up again and dropped her hand to her side. She gazed directly at Lexa as she said in a low, tired voice, “We can’t do anything more for them here. The dead are gone; the living are hungry.”

The others couldn’t see it because they were behind Lexa, but Lexa’s eyes went wide in shock and her mouth parted slightly as she stared at Clarke. Her grip tensed on her sword’s pommel.

Indra, though, seemed almost to approve. “Finally the Sky girl says something that makes sense. Let us waste no more time.”

Deciding to consider Lexa’s reaction later, Clarke turned and called out to the dropship, “Be careful! I’m coming in and I have company!”

Scott poked his head out from behind the drape and gasped. Clarke barked, “Stand down! We have our truce!”

Scott backed up, pulling the drape aside to let them stride up the ramp and into the dropship. Clarke heard no loud roars or noises. So far, so good, she thought as her breathing quickened in anticipation.

She mounted the ladder and raced up to the second level. As soon as she got to her feet, she turned to take in the scene before her: Octavia and her mother were kneeling next to a comatose Lincoln, now freed of his restraints. He was currently seated and resting with his back against the dropship wall. Bellamy was pacing back and forth, but stopped and leaned up against one of the dropship walls as he nodded to Clarke.

Clarke gasped. “Mom?”

Abby stood and smiled. “Clarke!” She raced up to hug her daughter. “It’s not as bad as it looks, trust me. Lincoln’s been recovering, and he fell asleep about half an hour ago. His pupils have been responsive, and now it’s just a matter of letting the alcohol leave his system.”

Clarke let herself go limp with relief. “It worked!” She quickly regained her equilibrium, making a face as the smell hit her. “Hopefully next time things will be done in a less messy way than what’s been going on.”

At that moment, Lexa’s feet hit the deck of the second floor, followed by Indra and Nyko. Lexa lifted her eyebrows at the scene, while Nyko blinked, staring at Lincoln. Indra scowled and barked, “How?”

Abby eyed the newcomers, as did Bellamy and Octavia. Scott, having brought up the rear, stood off to one corner, eyeing the Grounders nervously.

Clarke said, “This is Abigail, my mother and the Chancellor. Bellamy and Octavia, friends of mine. Behind you there is Scott, one of our guards.” To her fellow Arkers, she announced, “This is Commander Lexa of the Twelve Clans, Indra of the Tree People, and Nyko, one of their healers.”

Octavia, having just checked Lincoln’s temperature, withdrew her hand from his forehead and gave them a wan smile. “Hi. I’m glad you’re safe, Nyko.”

“And I am glad Lincoln is safe,” he replied with a small smile. “Lincoln is no longer a Ripa?”

Abby replied, “That’s right. He stopped being violent this morning. I’ve been using a combination of alcohol injections and small injections of sedatives to try and ease him out of his withdrawal. I think he is about done now, though.”

“I still won’t believe it until he wakes up and speaks as a man would,” Indra snapped.

As if that were a signal, Lincoln stirred, blinking slowly as he roused himself, groaning. “My head hurts.”

Octavia laughed. “You’re having a hangover.” She stroked his jaw tenderly, then pointed. “Look.”

As his eyes focused on the Grounder newcomers, he jolted fully awake. “Heda! Indra! Nyko!”

Indra’s eyes were wide as she took in a Lincoln who had an obvious Reaper uniform on, with some days' worth of beard, and yet who spoke with the full awareness of a human being.

Lexa spoke for the first time. “Were you really a Ripa, Lincoln?”

Lincoln nodded. “I was brought to a door in one of the tunnels where the Mountain Men come in and out. They took me and gave me drugs.” He pointed to his neck. “In here. They injected me with something red, and it made me want to kill whatever I saw. And all I wanted was more of the red.”

Clarke highly suspected he was leaving a lot out, partly out of shame for what he’d done, but the essential details were there, and the proof that they could cure Reapers was in front of them (and they hadn’t even had to shock Lincoln awake, either).

Clarke waved her hand at Lincoln. “As you can see, we can cure Reapers!”

Lexa favored Clarke with the first smile she’d yet seen from the Commander. It was small, but unmistakable. She extended her hand in formal greeting to Clarke. “Clarke of the Sky People, you not only have the permanent truce you wanted; you have us as allies. Together, we shall take down the Mountain.”

Clarke grinned broadly. “Commander Lexa of the Twelve Clans, on behalf of the Sky People, I wholeheartedly accept!” She extended her hand as well, and the two clasped arms, Grounder-fashion. Lexa’s strong grip and her pleased expression portended much more ahead; new hope bloomed in Clarke’s heart as the Commander nodded once to her before the two slowly released each other’s arms.

The day was already looking much better than it had when Clarke woke that morning, and she fervently hoped it would continue in that vein.

Chapter Text

With the alliance now present, at least in name if not yet in fact, Clarke nodded and smiled at her mother, who knelt next to Lincoln, checking him over once more.

Abby nodded to herself, then stood and took a couple of steps toward the group of Indra, Lexa, Nyko and Clarke. “I would like to take Lincoln back with me to our camp to let him continue his recovery. He will, of course, be free to leave any time he wishes.”

Nyko gave Abby a small smile and brushed past her to kneel down next to Lincoln in order to look him over (probably unnecessarily, thought Clarke, but Nyko was a fisa, and would want to see for himself how his friend was doing).

Lexa blinked slowly and inclined her head, briefly acknowledging the statement.

Indra gave Lincoln a hard, searching look, then appeared to come to some kind of reluctant conclusion. “He will not be harmed anywhere on Trikru lands,” she declared. To Lexa, in Trigedasleng, she muttered, “You know people will not trust him if he comes back to his village Some may want to kill him because of what Nyko reported. I am still not completely sure, myself, what he is, even if he speaks and acts like a man.”

Clarke, trying to pretend she didn’t know much Trigedasleng, attempted a puzzled look as Lexa answered back, “We have already settled the matter of the battle at this place; no further reprisals are to take place on either side. As for what happened to him since then, that is the Mountain’s fault, not his.”

Indra grunted, shrugging her shoulders as she stood tall and straight. Nyko, for his part, looked faintly relieved. Bellamy was casting suspicious looks at the two women, while Octavia’s frown was one of concentration. Clarke wondered how much Trigedasleng she had picked up by this point from Lincoln and Nyko.

Abby, also puzzled at the short exchange, apparently decided it would be better to not pry further. She announced, “We should be getting back while there is still daylight.”

Clarke put up her hand. “Wait! Mom, there’s some things you need to know, and L—Commander Lexa and Indra should know this too.” At her mother’s slight ‘go on’ look, she said, “You know the Mountain Men are jamming our communications. We’ve been checking some things out; we are almost a hundred percent sure they also make the acid fog, and Kane and I are pretty sure they’re also monitoring our radio transmissions. They’re also probably watching us, too. Like, with actual spies out in the forests and everything.”

She saw Bellamy’s eyes go wide at the same time as Abby blinked rapidly, taking in this new bit of news.

Indra scowled and spat, “Maun-de laik bushhada! They are cowards. My hunters and gonas have sometimes heard the noises they make as they sneak through the bushes – and my people know the noises animals make. These ones are different.”

Octavia, helping a now mostly-conscious Lincoln to his feet alongside Nyko, who was handing him a small flask of water, chimed in, saying, “Lincoln also told me of some legends of your people, how if a Grounder even touches a gun, the whole village gets destroyed.”

“Has this actually happened?” breathed Abby.

“We don’t like to talk about it very much,” admitted Indra, who looked away. She paused for a breath, then said, “But yes, it has happened a few times, though I only heard of these things as a child.”

“Missiles,” Clarke breathed, trying to make it seem as though she’d realized it for the first time and not because she knew they could do it. She shot her mother a glance, who clearly remembered her deduction about missiles a while before.

“Then if they are watching, what can we do?” wondered Bellamy. He crossed his arms, frowning in concentration.

Clarke thought rapidly, looking around the room at everybody in it. She hadn’t had to consider this before, but now that it was on the table—

“Let’s pretend there’s no alliance – just a basic truce,” Clarke announced. She looked at Lexa. “If they’ve seen your tent and soldiers—uh, Commander—” damnit, I keep wanting to say her name! Clarke rubbed her forehead, appearing to be thinking as she regrouped. “Your tent. Right. Um, they’ll probably figure out pretty easily you came to discuss terms. They might have seen us leave together, so we need to act like you made us get something or someone for you – but…”

Lexa nodded. “I see the problem. We would have to pretend to arrest Lincoln.”

“And am I supposed to throw him in a pit, too, back in TonDC, to complete the show?” said Indra as she frowned.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m not saying you need to actually take him back. I have an idea,” Clarke blurted, raising her hands to get everybody’s attention. “Lincoln, how good are you at travelling by night?”

Lincoln and Nyko both burst out laughing, while Lexa shot Clarke a veiled look of amusement. Even Indra permitted herself the ghost of a smile as she said, “Only a goufa would not know Trikru lands well enough.”

Clarke chuckled and looked down for a moment, admitting that had been a bit of a silly question. “Here’s what we’ll do. At Camp Jaha we use electric lighting to flood the area. We’ll happen to have an ‘electrical failure’ after sunset. Meanwhile, Commander, you’ve been preparing to leave at night and it won’t look suspicious because you came that way, too. Lincoln just happens to escape under the cover of darkness and slips into our camp. A few minutes later, the ‘failure’ miraculously gets fixed and Lincoln’s hidden inside our Ark.”

Octavia grinned. “I like that idea!”

Lincoln smiled down at her. “You would.”

Clarke said, “The part you might not like is we need to look less friendly. That means Ark people stay together and Grounders stay together as we walk back. And we’ll need to look kind of, I guess, quiet.”

Octavia gave Lincoln a small pout, but only said, “I get it. Lincoln, I’ll see you tonight.” She went over to Bellamy, clear reluctance on her face.

Lexa said, “We will go first. Nyko will appear to be escorting Lincoln while Indra and I take the lead. You will then follow, and we will keep conversation within our separate groups.” She pondered for a moment, then turned to Clarke. “Since we have ‘arrested’ Lincoln, it would be natural for you to come to my tent again and appear to be appealing to me for his release, Clarke.”

Clarke had to remind herself not to stare at Lexa’s lips as her mouth moved.

Octavia’s frown prompted Lexa to turn to face her. Clarke took a moment to appreciate Lexa’s sharp jawline in partial profile, and the intricately braided hair that marked her as a Commander.

Lexa said, “I originally made a point of only asking for Clarke. Any other person approaching my tent would make a watcher wonder if we have more than a truce.” Lexa took a deep breath, then turned to look at everyone in succession as she spoke. Her slightly louder voice taking on a more authoritative tone made Clarke stand a little straighter as she spoke. “And remember: tomorrow, we begin the war. I will leave instructions for Clarke as to how to get to TonDC by as many ways as possible. If you split into small groups it will appear as though you are only going to trading posts.”

Clarke grinned at Lexa and tried to not get lost in the other woman’s intelligent green eyes; she would have plenty of time to do that at Lexa’s tent in a few hours.

Abby smiled and said softly, “I am beginning to see why they call you the Commander.”

Lexa tilted her head slightly. “It is true that is my title, but the Commander’s spirit chose me as well. I was … simply, the best choice.”

Clarke stood stiffly as, unbidden, she remembered another time in another world: I need your spirit to stay where it is!

Wasting no further time, Lexa nodded sharply at Indra, Nyko and Lincoln, then moved to descend to the first level. Indra wasted no time following, and the two Grounder men followed up, Nyko bracing Lincoln a bit as he walked. Nyko grinned at Lincoln and clapped him on the shoulder. Nyko then pointed at his own beard, saying in Trigedasleng, “And are you now trying to compete with me? You, who always takes such care to shave every day?”

Lincoln let out a wheezing laugh before managing to stand upright as he tested his footing, breathing deeply. He smirked at Nyko, then let his face go impassive as he looked around the room. “Thank you – all of you. I will see you tonight in your camp.”

The two men clattered down the ladder, and after a few moments, the Camp Jaha people gathered their things and left the dropship as well.

Some time later, as they marched through the sometimes poorly travelled trails, Clarke decided she needed to light a fire under her fellow Arkers’ feet.

Currently she was walking single-file behind her mother, but the trail widened a bit. She sped up to catch up to her mother and nodded. “Hey, Mom.”

Abby peered around, trying to catch a camouflaged Mountain spy. Clarke didn’t think they would have much luck, as none of them were experts in spotting people who wanted to stay hidden. Still, she seemed to relax a bit and looked at Clarke. “How are you feeling?”

“We’ll see, I guess,” Clarke replied. In a low voice, she leaned in and said, “Mom, you know how I said they’re bleeding the Grounders for blood, right? Bellamy and I were talking the other night and I was wondering, what would happen if they used our blood? We’ve had to survive radiation in space, right?”

Abby frowned. “They wouldn’t do that. Not by force, surely!”

“Just – suppose they asked and convinced the kids in the Mountain to donate some blood,” Clarke said back, giving a rather convincing-looking frown to the Grounders up ahead.

“They would certainly heal faster if our blood is better at handling radiation sickness,” her mother replied, going into her analytical mode as her brow furrowed in concentration. “But…”

After dodging a few branches, Clarke nudged her mother, whispering, “But what?”

Abby chewed her lip, her frown changing from analysis to worry. “It’s just…” She spoke in low, urgent tones. “It may not be enough. Not if they want to be immune to it like us.”

Almost there, thought Clarke. C’mon, Mom, make the connection!

After a few deliberate moments and another sharp look darted at the Grounders several meters ahead, Clarke prodded, “What would do it?”

Abby stared at Clarke in dawning horror as she breathed, “Bone marrow.”

Yes!

But outwardly, Clarke put on a confused frown. “What’s wrong?” She leaned in. “We’ve done bone marrow donations before, haven’t we?”

“That’s the danger, Clarke!” Abby hissed back. “If the aspiration and transfer is done too fast, it could kill the patient because they can’t regenerate it fast enough! If the Mountain Men have decided our kids are expendable…”

It took very little acting for Clarke’s horror to match her mother’s own. Those images on the TV screens showing her friends, her people, her mother, being cruelly used and thrown away for a madman’s idea of manifest destiny, swam before her eyes. She whispered, “We have to hurry, Mom!”

Mother and daughter wore grim looks the rest of the way to Camp Jaha.

Chapter Text

Near Camp Jaha, Lexa and Indra put on their stiffest and most formal attitudes as they bade Clarke and her comrades farewell for the time being, and announced they would pack up to leave at dusk. Lincoln was ‘escorted’ by Nyko into the smaller soldier tent, with Octavia giving it a wistful glance before joining Bellamy at the gate, who was flanked by Scott and led by Clarke and Abby.

Once inside the gate, Scott joined the guards keeping watch along the fence, while Bellamy and Octavia tagged along with Clarke and her mother as they strode along the dirt path to the Ark proper. Kane met them at the entrance and briefly greeted them, smiling at Abby as he said, “And now I can gladly give you back the job of full-time Chancellor.”

Abby let out a hollow chuckle, then said, “We need privacy.”

Kane’s eyebrows lifted, but he readily led them to the old council chambers and locked the door behind them. After that, he walked up to the hexagonal table, taking up the spot left by the vacancy between Bellamy and Abby, with Clarke to her mother’s right, and Octavia to her right.

Kane said, “Has anything changed? I was under the impression that part of the condition of the truce was to prove that you could heal Reapers, but one of the guards told me they saw Lincoln being led off by the Grounders as though he were under arrest.” He frowned, perplexed. “What exactly is our situation here?”

Clarke grinned. “Good news first: we actually have a full-fledged alliance because we can cure Reapers! Lincoln isn’t really under arrest: we arranged all that with Lexa in case someone happens to be watching.”

Kane let out a slow, long chuckle. “That’s actually a brilliant idea! So, as far as the Mountain is concerned, we have a truce bought by giving up one of the Grounders to their leaders?”

“Exactly,” agreed Clarke. “In reality, we want you to fake an electrical power failure after sunset for about fifteen minutes and make it look good. Lincoln will sneak out and slip through our fence, and we’ll have him back in here safe and sound by the time you get the power back on.”

Octavia butted in, saying, “I want to be there when he gets inside.”

Abby nodded at her. “That won’t be a problem.”

Kane, meanwhile, was considering. He tapped his chin for a moment, then asked “What if the observer – if there is one – has night vision gear to see heat signatures?”

“Let’s create a distraction,” decided Clarke. “Tell the guards you saw something move in the forest, and have them fire their guns in a direction well off from the tent.”

Clarke looked around, catching Bellamy’s and Octavia’s surprised looks, as well as her mother’s slightly confused expression. Only Kane seemed to be taking the situation in stride. When, she wondered, had she evolved to unofficial leader?

It had happened in that other world, too, but with a lot more friction and a lot more pushback. Was it Kane’s earlier return, or her changed conversations with her mother? Or… well, she had no real idea.

Not wanting to give up her momentum, at Kane’s nod she said, “Lexa wants us on the way to TonDC by tomorrow. We’ll officially begin preparations to get our people and theirs out of Mount Weather. She wants me to pretend to appeal for Lincoln’s return, so I’m going to go over there after Mom and I go touch base with Raven. Once I’m there she’s going to give me all the possible ways to get to TonDC from here, and if we split up, it will look like we’re going out to trading posts or to hunt for food, since under the tree cover we’ll be less likely to be spotted going to our real destination.”

Clarke looked around the table and rested her hands on the edge. “Unfortunately, that’s about all the good news. Mom and I were talking, and we think we have some bad news for you.”

Kane ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Well, there’s a mood killer.” He looked at Abby and said, “Do you want to tell me, or—?”

Clarke’s mother nodded slowly. “Clarke asked some very good questions and made me realize that we might need to move up the battle with the Mountain before going to find our fellow Farm Station people.”

Kane stood ramrod straight, crossing his arms. “Lay it all out.”

“Basically, we already know that our survival here on this planet is likely due to the way our bodies can handle radiation. We were subject to solar wind, solar flares, expansions of the Van Allen Belts – in short, we were constantly exposed to hard radiation and while there was some genetic engineering in the early days, for the most part, survival of the fittest got us here.

“We also know the Mountain Men have been taking Grounders and using their blood to treat the symptoms of radiation poisoning. We now need to realize two things: first, our blood is going to be far better because our radiation dose was essentially constant and higher than down here, forcing our branch of the species to adapt even as the radiation levels here have been declining slowly for years.

“Second, and what frankly scares the hell out of me, as a mother and as a doctor, is this, Marcus: permanent immunity to radiation may come from transplanting the bone marrow. And we have forty-seven kids in there. What happens if they are considered expendable?”

Octavia gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. Kane swayed on his feet for a second before bracing himself against the table, while Bellamy ran his hands through his hair before crossing his arms and scowling.

Kane said in a low voice, “And what if there’s the slim chance the kids are voluntarily donating?”

Abby scoffed, “Do you really believe that? That the same people who are blocking our attempts to contact other stations including Farm Station, bleeding Grounders, and making Reapers no less, are going to ask nicely for something that’ll let them leave their lair permanently? The bone marrow is simply far too tempting a target.”

She drove on. “What makes me believe that the people there have no conscience is their utter lack of medical ethics. What kind of people are they to take Grounders away from their families and bleed them to death, or worse, make them into murderous monsters?” After a beat, she snarled, “I’ll tell you what they are: the same kind of people who wouldn’t hesitate to steal our kids’ bone marrow for themselves and damn the consequences.”

“But why?!” shouted Kane, startling Clarke in the process. He spread his hands as he spoke again, trying to keep his cool as he talked. “It doesn’t make any sense! We’re basically their cousins, for all practical purposes; we speak the same language and we even share things in common. Why would they kill what amounts to their golden goose?”

Clarke broke in, saying, “If you want my guess, it’s the same problem as the Ark. They may know they don’t have much time left for some reason. Or maybe they’re just getting sick and tired of being in that place, doing the same things over and over and over again. Either way, someone in there is going to make a decision, and they’ll ask themselves, ‘do we wait out the six months or a year or whatever it takes for forty-seven kids to regenerate their bone marrow, or do we grab it all now and justify it to ourselves in the name of the greater good?’

“You’ve seen what they do to Grounders. They don’t think Grounders are even human. Not really, anyway. They will come out of that Mountain and kill Indra, Lexa, Lincoln, Nyko, and all the other Tree People. And then they’ll come for us. Because we’ll know. We’ll know they did something horrible – something evil. And they’ll get rid of us to keep from giving them guilty consciences, so we won’t ask them every day, ‘what happened to our children? Our friends?’”

Clarke stumbled to a halt from her speech and heaved a breath, feeling as though she’d just crossed the goal line of a football field. She looked around, assessing everyone. Octavia’s jaw quivered (in sadness or anger, or possibly both); Bellamy looked half-sick. Kane looked old and haggard, while her mother stood straight, her lips pressed together as her fists clenched at her side.

Kane sighed and rested his hands on the table. He spoke slowly, as though the words had to be dragged out of him. “I had hoped – really hoped – we could find a basis for peace, even with the Mountain. That we could negotiate or – or at least somehow buy them off in exchange for getting our kids back.” He closed his eyes. “But right now there is no hope for that kind of peace. There will be war, and it will be a war that has taken on a moral dimension. We will fight not just to save our children, but to help end an evil that has remained within this land for far too long.”

Abby nodded. “I agree, Marcus.”

Silence reigned through the room for several minutes, then Abby spoke again.

To Clarke, she said, “You tell Lexa this: whatever help they want, they will get.” To Bellamy and Octavia, she said, “I don’t plan to keep Lincoln’s presence here totally secret, but we will need to craft a realistic reason for why the truce is still holding even if we’re holding one of their ‘prisoners’ – especially since I want him to come with us to TonDC, along with you two, Clarke and Raven.”

“Wait,” urged Kane. “One of us needs to be here to head things up. If we’re both gone, any observers will know there’s more than a simple truce.”

“We can use disguises. And I can claim medical isolation for you or me. I’ll get Jackson in on it; we can come up with something plausible, that way when observers hear people talk they’ll easily find out why neither of us seems to be around and why Sinclair is temporarily handling things,” Abby reasoned. She jabbed her finger at the table as she went on. “But I want us both at TonDC, Marcus. This is too important to for either of us to be on the sidelines.”

“All right, you’ve made your point, Abby,” conceded Kane. To the younger people, he said, “Clarke – Octavia – Bellamy – I don’t think I need to say very much about how important it is to keep talk about this to a minimum. You can bring Raven in on it, and I already authorized Clarke to know about the actual operation of our special radio. I’ll authorize you two”—he pointed at Octavia and Bellamy—“as of right now. That means you need to be extremely discreet about discussing the tapped transmissions from the Mountain.”

“Got it,” agreed Clarke. To her friends, she said, “Come on. Let’s go find Raven. And then I need to visit Lexa.”

In Raven’s mechanic shop, Clarke waved at Raven when she fumbled to shut the special radio off. “It’s okay; Kane just brought Bell and O into the loop.”

Raven let out a small sigh of relief and plucked her earpiece out. Clarke stood near Raven’s end of the table while Abby stood opposite Clarke. Bellamy and Octavia rounded out the group.

Abby said, “So, what can you tell me about the transmissions?”

Raven made a face. “Not very much, to be honest. It’s a lot of short, laconic stuff that’s basically status report after status report. I’ve been recording them all just in case—” She held up a small box attached to another output from the radio.

“What about, say, three or four hours ago?”

Raven frowned. “Hmm. Something like ‘four bogeys headed off—’ but it was so vague it could’ve been anything.”

“And about, say, twenty minutes ago?”

Raven sat up. “Wait a second—!” Her eyes wide, she looked at Clarke. “Did you and three other people go off to the dropship?”

Clarke bit her lip. “Yeah.”

“Jesus,” breathed Raven. “Then when the guy said ‘nine bogeys returned in two groups’, that was you guys?!”

Clarke nodded as Octavia gulped and whispered, “That is so creepy.”

Abby looked at Clarke. “Thank God you had that idea of making it look like we weren’t that friendly with the Grounders!”

Raven sat up in her chair and eyed Clarke, a slight grin forming on her face. “Tell me more about this badass plan you’ve made.”

Clarke quickly recited the basics of the meeting with Lincoln, wrapping up with, “And then after I leave here I’ll go back to talk to Lexa, pretending to ask for Lincoln back.”

Raven gave Clarke’s shoulder a gentle punch. “Now that rocks!”

Clarke fell somber. “Raven, there’s something else you need to know. My mom will explain, but basically, you need to understand that Mount Weather is more than just creepy. They’re evil.”

As Clarke strode out of the mechanic shop and walked the hallways of Alpha Station, she swore to herself, Cage Wallace and Carl Emerson, jus drein jus daun!

On the way to Lexa’s tent, Clarke could see Indra pushing the flap of the smaller tent aside to go in. What could she want with Lincoln, wondered Clarke.

At Lexa’s tent, Clarke said loudly, her voice carrying, “Commander Lexa! I have come to ask you to please hand Lincoln over!”

The drapes swiftly parted, and Lexa stepped out in full Commander regalia. She walked up to Clarke, again nearly bringing their chests together. She looks so fiercely vital, Clarke marvelled. Lexa snarled loudly, “And why does Klark kom Skaikru think she can demand one of ours back with a mere truce between our peoples?”

Clarke had no time to decide what effect that had on her, because Lexa abruptly stepped back, yanking the tent flap aside as she gestured at one of her nearby gonas, who put his hand at Clarke’s back and shoved her inside the tent. Lexa, striding in right afterwards, barked to the lone guard standing by the table, “Gonot!”

The young man scrambled to get out of the tent. As soon as the flap closed again, leaving them alone inside the tent, Lexa’s thunderous expression abruptly shifted as she approached to stand about a meter away from Clarke. She smiled, prompting a relieved grin in return.

“So, was I sufficiently convincing?” asked Lexa with a slight lift of her elegant eyebrow.

“I’d say so!” agreed Clarke. In a lower voice, she said, “There is someone watching us from the forest right now. Raven heard him on the radio, but didn’t realize what he meant until we talked to her.”

Lexa’s hand went to the hilt of her sword. Her expression grew pensive. “I think we must move as carefully as we can, Clarke. Come, see here—” Lexa gestured, sweeping her hand over some maps laid out on the table that had been empty the other time. Clarke peered at the top page, trying to orient it mentally so she could make sense of it. Lexa pointed, her elegant fingers briefly touching the markings indicating Camp Jaha, and the six different pathways to trading posts and hunting grounds and so forth. “—and then, as you can see, there are shortcuts from each that will take you to TonDC, passing through Lincoln’s village. Once we all have met together, our war conference begins.”

Clarke nodded. “Okay. May I take this map?”

Lexa briefly clasped Clarke’s shoulder.

Clarke’s mouth went dry as her nerves all fired into overdrive, sending tingles all up and down her body. Her breath hitched as she stared at Lexa, not daring to move because oh God, she’s touching me for like the first time since Polis and if she moves her hand down just the right way—

All Lexa said, however, was a very evenly and pleasantly modulated, “Of course. You should hide it somewhere on your person.” She dropped her hand back to her side, leaving Clarke needing to rest her hip against the table to take some of the weight off her trembling legs.

“I must congratulate you as well, on turning a Reaper back into a man. Indra may not believe it completely, but Lincoln’s recovery was…” Lexa couldn’t seem to stop the momentary grin on her face as she finished, saying, “… a miracle.”

By now, Clarke’s legs felt steady, letting her stand straight up again. She nodded. “But we still have a lot of work ahead of us if we want to cure more Reapers. And we have to be careful to only catch a few at a time.”

“A fair point.” Lexa seemed to grow contemplative, averting her gaze as she moodily tapped the pommel of her sword. Her jaw worked in that familiar pattern, and Clarke wondered what could be affecting Lexa emotionally.

Clarke ventured, “My mother asked me to tell you that whatever help you want from us, we will give you. She and Marcus are determined to help stop the Mountain and end their threat forever.”

Lexa frowned. “I must admit I do not entirely understand this outpouring of eagerness from your leaders to help us so wholeheartedly. Thousands of my people have been swallowed up in Maun-de for at least two generations, but they have only forty-seven of your people. Your people speak the gonasleng and some of your ways are their ways; you could ally with them, or at least make a separate peace.”

Clarke shook her head. “No!” she barked. “Absolutely not, Lexa!” Heedless of that breach of etiquette with the woman who was her love and yet not, Clarke said, “The forty-seven of them are all they need. They will do something as vile and cruel as the way they make the Ripas, and all of my friends will die.” She looked down, her voice cracking as she finished, saying, “And then they will come out of the mountain and kill you all and take your lands because they think they deserve it. Then they will come for my people, too.”

Even as Clarke looked back up at Lexa, her breaths still coming rapidly, she was able to consider the irony of Lexa worrying about the Sky People abandoning the tentative alliance. Lexa’s voice echoed in Clarke’s ears: I'm sorry Clarke … I do care, Clarke, but I made this choice with my head and not my heart. Clarke reached and brushed her hair out of her eyes, focusing on this Lexa, the one who had no need to offer apologies and fealty because she had never had to break an alliance at the price of at least a temporary peace from the Mountain.

A Lexa who would never be forced to make that choice because Clarke Griffin had sworn her second revenge on the Mountain.

Lexa took a couple of breaths, then moved to her throne to sit on it. She crossed her legs and gestured Clarke forward. “If you and your Hedas are of the same mind, then I can rest my doubts.” Lexa tilted her head and brushed her hand idly along one arm of her throne. “But I have not missed the fact that you have, on a few occasions, nearly slipped and addressed me by name, rather than my rank. And just now, in a rather emotional outburst, you did call me by name.”

Clarke floundered for a moment, then babbled, “I apologize—”

Lexa lifted her hand. “Let me finish. There is something else I feel I must ask you about in the strictest of confidences, because I have been considering my own thoughts and actions about and towards you.”

Clarke, bewildered, whispered, “What do you mean?”

Lexa uncrossed her legs and rested her forearms on the arms of the throne as she leaned forward. Her jaw worked again. “We have come too far for lies and half-truths to stand in the way of what I now truly believe is a common goal for our peoples,” she said. “So as much as now is not the ideal time as there is an observer who may wonder at how a simple argument can last longer than a few minutes, your people and mine are on the eve of war preparations and if we are to work side by side, we must trust each other and you and I especially need to know all about each other.”

Slight confusion showed on Lexa’s face for the first time Clarke could remember in this new world, her brows knitted as she talked. “There is a connection between us, Clarke – and I wish to understand it better because something in me wants to believe it is real; that I smile at you and want to touch you is for a reason.” A deep breath, then Lexa spoke again. “What is the significance of the fact that a few days after your Ark fell to the ground, you, who I never met in person then, nonetheless appeared in my meditations?”

Chapter Text

Clarke stared, dumbstruck, swaying on her feet as if a weight had slammed down on her shoulders.

Her thoughts echoed in her mind. How?

Could the horse have fallen as well? Tripped and shaken loose the chip?

Could her own re-entry into the timeline have created secondary effects? Influenced Lexa’s AI chip somehow?

Could—

“Clarke?” Lexa’s raised voice told her she was asking a second time, trying to get her attention.

Heat rose in Clarke’s cheeks as she replied, “I’m sorry, I just—this is very strange to me, all right?” She spread her hands, hoping to profess ignorance of just what she suspected might have caused this to happen.

(If someone had come to her in her prison cell and told her she would soon be the de facto leader of a group of unruly teenagers who forged themselves into a credible fighting force inside of a month…)

Lexa steepled her fingers. “And yet, Clarke, I wonder how much you truly know. While Anya spoke to me of a naïve blonde girl who professed to talk of peace and yet started a war she didn’t know how to end, and Nyko spoke to me of a blonde girl who stopped a boy who might have used his gun to hurt people in the village, those two reports alone would not have so completely convinced me that I could deal with you.”

“Why?” Clarke had to fight every impulse to chew her lip, trying to present a stoic face when oh my god what does she know and will she think I’m crazy if I just tell her everything—

“Because there are things you did and said,” reiterated Lexa as she raised a hortatory finger. “A Sky Person like yourself might know a few words of Trigedasleng thanks to Lincoln. Indra herself missed the significance of two things you said, however, because she assumed Lincoln told you: what we say to honor the dead, and a phrase which is somewhat known among the Woods Clan.”

“But…” sweat beaded on Clarke’s brow. “Please, I heard Anya say ‘ai gonplei ste odon’ before she… before she passed.”

“It would have meant nothing to you, Clarke,” retorted Lexa. “You heard it once. Once is not enough to prove a ritual, and I notice you do not defend yourself by saying you asked Lincoln, or your friend Octavia.”

Oh, fuck, moaned Clarke. She’s right.

“And as for your use of the phrase at your… dropship, Anya would not have explained it to you,” said Lexa as she steepled her hands again. “You were escaping from the Mountain; you might have had time to convince her of your plea for unity, but more than that – no.”

Lexa leaned forward. “The only way you could have known the significance of our rituals and the exact words repeated to me not long after my first kill in battle is if you learned them from me.”

Lexa’s eyes caught Clarke’s, holding her in her gaze, piercing, questioning, demanding.

“Why haven’t you killed me or kicked me out, then?” deflected Clarke. Oh, well done. That rejoinder is as weak as one Jobi Nut.

And why keep trying to brazen this out and keep from telling Lexa everything?

—Because you loved her and she loved you and she might never feel the same way if she just got it all dumped on her—

“An obvious deflection,” noted Lexa. “But I will humor you. In my meditations, the feelings and thoughts that surround your appearances are of closeness and trust. I am somehow drawn to you, even though you are a stranger from the sky. I am willing to believe that my spirit is not guiding me wrongly here.”

“So how would I have heard those words from you?” replied Clarke, desperately eager to wipe her brow but unwilling to back down in front of Lexa. “Perhaps we have a secret knowledge of Trigedasleng; perhaps I learned the phrase from Lincoln instead of Anya.”

Lexa shook her head. “The reasons you advance are not plausible. If you all knew Trigedasleng, you would have spoken it to Anya, for example, when she first met you. Lincoln and Nyko would not have had to teach Octavia even basic phrases and words.

“As for your use of ‘the dead are gone; the living are hungry’, while it is somewhat known among the Trikru and Lincoln would have heard it, how and why would he have told it to you?”

Clarke’s mind raced, but she was out of things to say.

Lexa’s voice grew soft, almost pleading. “Clarke, the answer is obvious. The only reason why you keep wanting to say my name – why you react so intensely to my touch – why I feel as though I can trust you and more – and how you seem to know more than you should – is if you knew me, were intimate with me, in a different world. Somehow, pieces of that knowledge have been given to me as well as you.” Lexa averted her gaze, pondering briefly as she swallowed. To the floor, she said, “Clarke, please, speak truthfully and plainly. You must be from that world. At least say you remember what I know you must.”

Clarke’s head pounded. Lexa was still gazing down and off to the right, contemplating. Clarke, too, had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat as her eyes pricked with tears. How much did she know? Could she get Lexa back? Her Lexa? Or a hybrid of this one and the Lexa whose life drained out of her even as she reassured Clarke that her spirit would live on?

There was only one way to find out.

Clarke’s fists clenched, then she deliberately opened them, stretching her fingers as she tried to let the aching tension along her back flow out of her. She sighed and said, “Yes. I am, Lexa.”

Lexa’s head snapped up, her jaw quivering as her nostrils flared. “You know everything,” she said, her voice flat.

“Yes, but that only takes us so far, L-Lexa.” Clarke could take two steps and be in Lexa’s arms again, holding her, kissing her, feeling her warmth. She stayed rooted to her spot, desire warring with fear as she wondered what Lexa would say next. “I-I’ve already changed things.”

“Then what is truth and what is imagination, Clarke?” wondered Lexa. “Was there truly a funeral fire for the boy, Finn? Where I told you ‘the dead are gone; the living are hungry’?”

Clarke slammed her eyes shut, trying to push away the sensation of floating in a starless sky. She said thickly, “Yes. And I said, ‘yu gonplei ste odon’ – which I’d heard twice in that world; Nyko was going to mercy-kill Lincoln. He didn’t deny it when I realized you say it when someone dies. And that prompted you to tell me of Costia. You showed me Polis, as well. We – you and I – we shared your bed. There is so, so much, Lexa…”

Lexa gasped, prompting Clarke to open her eyes. “Then the images and words of Bekka Pramheda are true,” she breathed. “Your return by my side foretells a world free of the Mountain!”

Clarke stared, trying to process. “Bekka pr—wait. Pramheda: First Commander!” She bit her lip. “There is something I have to tell you, which may seem like… like blasphemy to you. Please, I mean no offence.”

Lexa gestured for Clarke to go on. Clarke said, “I know the truth of your meditations. You commune with the previous Commanders. You… I know where your spirit is.” Clarke pointed at the back of her own neck.

Lexa’s eyes went wide. She whispered, “That is only known to the Fleimkipa and the Natblidas. How did you find out?” Lexa’s face cleared of all expression.

“You—you died,” Clarke whispered, her body trembling as she could no longer hold back one of her worst memories, all the more because it was saturated in her love for Lexa. “Titus, he—I tried to save you – Oh god, I tried to save you!” Clarke brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling her sobs as she slowly sank to her knees, her shoulders shaking as the pain of those desperate final moments flooded her memories.

Her hands, covered in Lexa’s black blood, vainly trying to keep her beloved alive even as she knew the inevitable was due to come

Lexa assuring her, ‘there is nothing you can do now.’

Lexa gracing her with one last slight smile before the light slowly faded from her eyes.

Lexa’s strong hands clasped her shoulders. “Clarke!” she hissed. “Clarke! Please, I am here. Whatever you saw in that world, I am here.”

Clarke looked to her left, keeping her lips pressed together to keep anyone from hearing. Lexa’s face swam blearily in Clarke’s vision as she blinked away the tears which still fell. Clarke took a shuddering breath, rising slowly to her feet with Lexa helping her up. Lexa rubbed her back and whispered, “Clarke, please remember you need to leave soon. People will talk if you are seen leaving here in that condition.”

Clarke nodded. She smiled and breathed, “Hodnes nou laik kwelnes, Leksa.”

“I think I understand why you would tell me that,” Lexa mused. She lifted an eyebrow as her mouth quirked in a small smile. “And you have just shown me you know more than a bare few words of our language.”

Clarke let out a weak chuckle. Lexa squeezed her shoulders, then released her and moved to stand in front of her. “Perhaps if I tell you what happened to me some days after your Ark landed, Clarke? It may help calm you.”

“Please,” urged Clarke. She had never actually heard any concrete details of the previous Commanders, and she needed to calm herself more before she could leave and appear unaffected.

With that, Lexa began her story.

Chapter Text

16 OCT 2149 07:31:02 EST A.L.I.E. 2.0 CORE OS SENTRY – Intrusion detected, analyzing…
16 OCT 2149 07:31:04 EST A.L.I.E. 2.0 CORE OS SENTRY – Intrusion classified as low-threat modifications to offline storage, transferring control to storage analyzer for processing
16 OCT 2149 07:31:05 EST A.L.I.E. 2.0 CORE OS OFFLINE DATA STORAGE ANALYZER – Working…

Full File System Integrity Checklist saved to log file, partial list available during runtime

BECCA.3179415600 CRC32 and Program Header Hash Check Passed
CLARKE.5674104300 CRC32 Check Passed
LEXA.5674190700 CRC32 Check Passed

(remaining successful passes saved to offline log for future analysis)

LEXA.5684190700 CRC32 Check Failed, attempting to repair – 90% reconstructed
LEXA.5684340600 CRC32 Check Failed, attempting to repair – 50% reconstructed

(other failures noted and highlighted in offline log for future analysis)

16 OCT 2149 07:41:00 EST A.L.I.E. 2.0 CORE OS DATA STORAGE ANALYZER – Analysis and reconstruction complete. Processing…

No successful match of temporally-anomalous data files to existing dataset, placing in online storage.

BECCA.3179415600 program and data file byte value conflicts – comparing current version to offline storage to confirm hash check mismatch

Integrity of online BECCA.3179415600 degraded, attempting to augment with new offline storage CRC32 verified data – operation successful

16 OCT 2149 07:42:00 EST A.L.I.E. 2.0 RUNTIME PROGRAMS – BECCA

New data detected, threshold value met and exceeded. Subject access to be granted to temporally anomalous analyzed offline data in context with interactions with BECCA program

Restarting…

16 OCT 2149 07:42:30 EST A.L.I.E. 2.0 RUNTIME PROGRAMS – BECCA – restart successful

16 OCT 2149 07:42:33 EST A.L.I.E. 2.0 CORE OS ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE – REM state ended, preparing for subject interaction per normal parameters.

Lexa sat up sharply in her cot in her tent at TonDC. The morning twilight half-darkness still loomed over her as she looked around, wondering what had set her awake. She pondered whether it might have to do with the Sky People she had had her hands full with in the last few weeks.

They had recently been handed a man, named Thelounias. He spoke gonasleng, but was not a Mountain Man. That much, at least, was obvious, since he had talked quite freely of coming from the sky. He claimed to be the leader of the Sky People, but from reports Lexa had gotten, his claim was tenuous at best. None of the scouts, on seeing the man, had witnessed him near the large metallic vehicle that had crashed to the ground. The man had quickly grown tired and delirious, and after giving him bread and water, Indra’s gonas locked him up in prison and Indra and Lexa decided to figure out what to do with him later.

She sighed. Perhaps she ought once again to consult the previous Commanders, re-enter the vision of a large, pleasant park clearing circled by dense forest. She had found herself debating with some of the more distant ones, arguing that too rigid an application of jus drein jus daun would simply drive the conflict forward endlessly until one side or the other was destroyed.

As always, Bekka Pramheda watched from the shadows, simply watching, never speaking, never even being easily visible except as a vaguely tall, angular woman wearing a dark shirt and pants. She had never spoken, as far as Lexa could remember, except at the ritual where she had to initiate the meditation that allowed her to call forth the names of all the previous Commanders. As only a Natblida could be a true Commander, it was sufficient for a heavily-guarded list of written names in gonasleng to be compared by the Fleimkipa.

Lexa swung her legs over to the side and walked to one of the small chairs borrowed from a TonDC resident. She sat in it, her back straight and her knees together as she rested her hands in her lap and closed her eyes, reaching the now-familiar trance that led her to the clearing.

A version of her stood in the center, as always, and she prepared to greet the immediately previous Heda when utter and complete shock froze her to the ground, as did the other Commanders. Bekka Pramheda strode forward into the light from the tree shadow, revealing her true form as an attractive black-haired, brown-eyed woman with a dark blue sweater and black pants. She wore shoes of a kind that were unfamiliar to Lexa.

The first Commander stopped a few feet away from Lexa and smiled broadly as she glanced around the clearing at all the Commanders. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be able to talk to you again! I haven’t been able to really talk to any of you for many years now, but please believe me, I have nothing but praise for each and every one of you. Each one of you Commanders – you Hedas, as you say in your language – has built on the achievements of the last.”

Bekka turned to Lexa and beamed. “Lexa! It is good to meet you.”

Lexa, by now regaining her equilibrium, bowed her head and said, “I greet you as well, Bekka Pramheda.”

Lexa looked back up to Bekka’s warm, earnest gaze. “There is much to do, Lexa. Much will rest on your shoulders, but fear not: my awakening to help you on your way comes with another person: a young woman named Klark – Klark of the Sky People.”

Bekka extended her left hand, gesturing at an empty part of the clearing: a frozen image solidified into being, showing Lexa an attractive blonde woman, wearing a faded black jacket, a blue shirt that showed considerable cleavage – Lexa blushed as she realized she’d been staring – and black pants that hugged her legs.

Lexa put her hands behind her back, clasping her left wrist with her right hand. She lifted an eyebrow and said to Bekka, “She may be pretty, but how will she help me?”

Bekka only said, “Watch, Lexa. Watch, and feel.”

She gestured again at the woman – Klark, Lexa reminded herself – and Lexa was sucked into the first memory-that-was-not.

Lexa hands a lit torch to the blonde. She says, “Clarke.” The girl slowly steps up beside her. She is quiet, somber. She takes the torch carefully, their hands nearly touching.

The blonde pauses. Stares.

Finally, she lowers the torch to the pyre. She murmurs, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

Lexa turns, staring at Clarke with new appreciation before turning back to solemnly watch the pyre burn.

They are standing together. Lexa mentions Costia, the most private and intimate part of her life. Clarke argues that love is not a weakness.

“The dead are gone, Clarke. The living are hungry.”

Lexa reared back in shock, staring, wide-eyed at Bekka, who reached out and gently held Lexa’s shoulders. Her voice was calm, sympathetic. “I have never done this with any other Commander. I am sorry for your discomfort.”

Lexa nodded, unable to speak: how can she have memories that have not happened yet? For clearly, the Sky People have barely talked at length yet to any Grounder, never mind sharing a mourning ceremony.

“I will continue to answer your questions as best as I can, Lexa,” Bekka reassured her. She held Lexa’s left shoulder and gestured with her left hand again.

The memories came faster and faster, each time flooding Lexa with the growing connection and affection she had for Clarke – a shared kiss, subtle touches, walking side by side, clasped hands…

A few of the memories, oddly, seemed filled with pain, upset and heartbreak, but they were distorted, unable to be seen easily. Lexa could only make out garbled voices and vague shapes. Other, less dark and more hopeful, were similarly distorted, but the warm feeling Lexa began to associate with being near Clarke was still evident.

As the last memory-that-was-not faded, Bekka took hold of Lexa’s shoulders again. “I firmly believe that these events you see before you, even if they do not come to pass in your world in the same way, foretell the destruction of the domain you call the Mountain, if you ally with Clarke of the Sky People.”

“The Mountain will fall?” said Lexa, her jaw agape in disbelief.

Bekka nodded once firmly, her jaw set. “The Mountain will fall, with you and her side by side.” She released Lexa’s shoulders and gave her one last smile. “And remember, love is not always a bad thing.”

With that, Lexa’s eyes flew open and she once again was aware only of her tent in TonDC, but her mind whirled with a million questions, first among them being: Would this Clarke remember who she was and could be again?

Chapter Text

“Wow,” was all Clarke could say after Lexa recounted her story. “That’s… well, wow!” She shook her head and let out a short, nervous laugh.

“It was definitely a strange morning,” agreed Lexa. “And then when I met your two Chancellors, Marcus and Thelonious, I knew I had to play a role to see if your claim to professing peace was at odds with the rest of your people. As I’m sure you know, Marcus was adamant about finding a road to peace; I was pleased to see you are not alone in trying to stop our fighting.”

Clarke nodded. “I still don’t completely understand it, but he changed. He used to be this real, uh, hard-ass. He and my mom used to get into arguments on the Ark when they were on the Council.”

Lexa’s mouth turned up in a small smile. “I am pleased we found peace more easily than apparently happened the previous time.” Her expression grew somber. “Most of the memories shown me by Bekka Pramheda are not distinct outside of my meditations; it is frustrating because usually I remember everything from my meditations. The memories only become clear when you say or do certain things, or when an event happens that is identical in reality. However, the funeral pyre with the villagers and your … friend, Finn – and the fact that I told you of Costia; I saw that in my mind from the beginning. I knew I needed to speak with you immediately, so I sent your leaders back at once, and made plans to come to your camp as well.”

“You must’ve realized things changed when there was no massacre,” Clarke said, realization dawning on her.

Lexa shook her head. “Not exactly. As I said, the memories … I am still trying to understand them. It is not always simple for me to know how they fit with what you and I are doing in this world.”

“So what convinced you?” wondered Clarke.

“The moment you spoke Trigedasleng in this tent,” Lexa replied. “At that point, I began to recall pieces of the conversation we had had in your other world, and you spoke no Trigedasleng then.” Lexa paused, then went on. “The final proof I needed was when you said something to me I had said to you. There was no reason for you to use it in any other way.”

This was her Lexa and yet not quite. But even so, Clarke, knew in her bones, in her very heart, that the Lexa before her could come to love her again, permit another shared intimacy between them that would last much longer than their all-too-brief moment of bliss in Clarke’s other world.

Clarke extended her hand, her palm up. “Lexa?”

Lexa reached out, clasping Clarke’s hand. Her warm, firm grip held echoes of the night Lexa had sworn fealty to her and her people. “We will fight together, Clarke. And we will know each other again.”

Clarke would never be sure who reached out first, but a moment later, her arms were around Lexa and Lexa’s arms were around her. Her chin dug into the tough material of Lexa’s Commander uniform, and a few stray hairs from Lexa’s braids brushed across her face. Clarke closed her eyes, just letting herself feel Lexa again – alive and vital, as she always should be.

It was Lexa who did break the hug, slowly and hesitantly. “I am sorry, Clarke,” she said into Clarke’s ear, her breath stirring Clarke’s hair as she spoke. “But you must go back to your camp soon. We will have many more chances to be together.”

Clarke slowly released Lexa, muttering, “Of course.” She remembered and said, “About TonDC. I’d like to have me, my mom, Kane, Raven, Octavia, Bellamy and Lincoln.”

“Acceptable,” agreed Lexa.

“And another thing. This may be harder for you to work with, but I need your help.” Clarke bit her lip as she looked at Lexa, holding her gaze.

Lexa frowned slightly. “What is it?”

“Farm Station,” replied Clarke. “They would have landed about the same time as this station, Alpha Station. Only they are in Azgeda territory, Lexa.”

Lexa’s expression went blank, then something seemed to click as she scowled. She hissed, “That murderer! Pike! He is from there, is he not?”

Clarke nodded. “Yes, he is.” She pleaded, “But Lexa, if we can get safe passage now, we can bring him and his people back here before all they’ve had is almost four months of fear of attack from every direction. Pike will never murder anyone! If the world can change once, it can change again!”

Lexa paced back and forth, clenching her fists as she tried to reconcile a world that was with a world that could be. She said in a low, controlled voice, “It may not be easy. Nia, the Azplana, is cruel and capricious. The same woman who would murder my beloved and have her head sent back to me – she may decide to spite our alliance by sending her best gonas to massacre your people.”

“And that would mean war,” Clarke concluded, pressing her lips together as she looked away for a moment. Still, she was pleased to see Lexa had run through a similar thought process as her own.

“But there may be a way,” decided Lexa as she walked up to Clarke again. “If we win against the Mountain, you and I, we will be Wanhedas, the slayers of the Mountain demons. Against that, even Nia would be a fool to fight against if I give the order to send your people south.”

Clarke shifted, not wanting to think about what it had meant for her: the glory and hostility, both unwanted; she ducked her head and muttered, “And she might decide to kill us to take that power instead.”

“I will find a way, Clarke. No, we will find a way.” Lexa briefly gripped Clarke’s shoulders, then her upper arms. Easing the somber mood, she noted dryly, “First, we will have to see about some training for you.” She let her hands fall to her side.

Clarke mock-frowned as she laughed, “Hey!”

“You are reasonably fit,” Lexa conceded. “But if we are to fight together you need to have the skills I do,” she warned.

Clarke nodded in realization. One of the considerations she’d given to Mount Weather plans was to use small crack teams of the best fighters, and there was no way she would sit back on the sidelines in that event. If so, she’d need to know close-quarter fighting skills.

“We can talk about that after TonDC,” Clarke replied. “Now, Lexa…” A teasing smile formed on her face as Lexa’s eyebrows went up. “What’s this about you admiring my Good Earth Cleavage?”

Lexa’s face flushed, and she averted her gaze as she tried to muffle her laughter in short, sharp wheezes. Clarke had to work to keep from collapsing into a fit of the giggles herself, and barely managed to force her face to remain neutral.

Lexa coughed, and slowly turned to face Clarke again. “I thought I had skipped over that part when I told you what happened.”

“You may have mentioned you stared at me for a few moments before you asked Becca what use I was,” Clarke reminded her. “I’m pretty sure I know why, Lexa.”

“In any case, Clarke, we must finish,” Lexa said, her voice firm as she deliberately changed the subject. “You asked for Lincoln back; I said no. You argued with me. I refused. I said I would send word through Trikru lands that Skaikru were not to be harmed, and that your friend Octavia could appeal directly to me and Indra at TonDC for his amnesty.”

“Sounds like a good cover,” agreed Clarke. “It even explains why some of us will show up at your capital tomorrow.”

“Precisely what I was thinking as well. Now, Clarke, we will go outside and I will tell you loudly not to come back again or you will test my patience.” Lexa stepped toward the tent opening and gestured with her hand.

Clarke leaned in. “You love this acting stuff, don’t you?”

“Commanders must be capable of many things in service to their people,” was Lexa’s only reply.

Clarke nodded and rushed out of the tent, followed by a thunderous-looking Lexa, who strode up to Clarke and barked loudly, “Klark kom Skaikru, my word is final. Your friend Octavia may come and appeal for Lincoln’s amnesty at TonDC tomorrow when I return with Indra, but that is all! If you come back to my tent again, you will Test. My. Patience.” Only Lexa’s eyes betrayed the fact that she was acting a part, for her face and bearing radiated barely controlled bristling hostility.

Holy Commander, thought Clarke. She gulped, not entirely acting, and nodded briefly. “Our business is concluded,” she retorted before she turned away and headed back to Camp Jaha.

When Clarke checked in with Raven, she found the other girl tinkering with something on the tabletop as the radio droned away, the voices barely audible when they crackled above the static.

Raven perked up. “Hey! How’d it go? You were gone a while.”

Clarke winced. “Yeah. We got to talking about some TonDC stuff, the alliance, all that. What happened with you-know-who?” She gestured at the radio, indicating the unseen observer.

Raven snickered. “Well, he did report he saw you go into the tent, but then the dumbass said he was shifting for a better viewpoint, tripped, and wrecked his oxygen gauge. He panicked and said he was going to report back before shift change. His HQ agreed and told him to get back ASAP.”

“So nobody was out there when I left?” Clarke asked, dismayed. All that acting had been for nothing!

Raven shrugged. “The replacement observer radioed in he was still about an hour out. The radio’s otherwise just been full of the usual creeps prowling around the acid fog zone to see if they need to let out Reapers or kill a few more hunters. Anyway, you know we’re recording it all for later analysis, too.”

“Well, I suppose that’s all right, then,” mused Clarke. She remembered something and said, “Hey, have you been sweeping the channels to see if the jamming has been lifted?”

Raven nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got another radio here. I check every few hours, sweep the frequencies. Still just that crappy constant buzzing.”

“It’s a long shot, Raven, but what if someone was using the Ark-wide channel?” asked Clarke.

Raven shook her head. “The only people who’d be doing it are Farm Station and they’re too far away to punch through the jamming. But it’s not a bad idea, in case any of them manage to get close enough by some miracle. I’ll make sure I check that frequency when I do the usual sweep.”

“Thanks!” Clarke huffed a breath, then said in realization, “Wow – I actually have nothing to do right now! It’s been just one thing after another and now that we’re all finished…”

“Who’s going to TonDC?” asked Raven.

Clarke snapped her fingers. “Right! Uh, it’ll be my mom, Kane, me, you, Octavia and Bellamy. Plus Lincoln, too.”

“Me?” Raven lifted her eyebrow. “And with the bum leg and everything? I mean, it’s one thing for a reconaissance trip and another for like, a major get-together.”

Clarke reached out to grasp Raven’s shoulder. “Yes, you. Without you we never would have found out about Mount Weather’s internal communications or their watchers. We wouldn’t have found the way to fight the Reapers. We’ll just have to walk more slowly with you, that’s all.”

Raven blinked rapidly, then mumbled, “Thanks. It’s easy to forget, y’know.” She fiddled with something in the intricate array of electronics before her.

Clarke lowered her hand and said, “We’ll split up, of course. You can come with me, Mom and Kane with each other, and Lincoln, Bell and O will all go together. You and I can take off at first dawn tomorrow, give ourselves more time to reach TonDC by the afternoon.”

Raven looked up at Clarke and grinned. “Okay, then. Better be ready, princess.”

“You know it, mechanic,” Clarke bantered back. She bade Raven goodbye and went to see her mother in Medical.

In Medical, Abby, Kane and Jackson were all conferring. Abby looked up as she saw Clarke enter, and waved her over.

Clarke exchanged a brief hug with her mother before being asked, “Clarke, how are you? Did everything go all right?”

“Yeah, everything went just fine. We settled everything about TonDC and all that. It’ll be you, me, Kane, Bellamy, Octavia, Raven and Lincoln. We’ll all split up – you and Kane together, me and Raven, and Octavia can go with Bellamy and Lincoln. There’s more than enough routes to make it look like we’re going trading or hunting.”

Abby nodded. “Some of us may need to appear to be bringing things to trade. I have no idea what these people use as currency or what they would even want, though.”

Kane shrugged. “Let’s just take one thing at a time. Right now, that’s how we’ll hide you in plain sight.”

Abby nodded and clasped her hands, clearly going over her plan once more. “Okay. So on my travels through the woods I contracted a fever which will began manifesting tonight. Jackson has isolated me to keep me for observation and nobody else can come see me for at least two days. Meanwhile, I’ll dress up like Byrne and wear a hood as we leave just before daybreak tomorrow. Marcus, you’ll appear to be having me (as Byrne) escort you for security purposes. Byrne will need to stay inside and coordinate security.”

“Sounds good,” Kane agreed. “I’ll say that Sinclair has been designated acting Chancellor for day-to-day duties while I go and, I guess, practice my hunting skills.”

Clarke suddenly remembered Kane had proven himself to be a crack shooter in a very short time in the other world.

Clarke added, “Lexa has said that Octavia can pretend to go to appeal for amnesty for Lincoln in TonDC. She could be bringing bringing Bellamy for backup.”

Kane nodded in approval. “Good. And you and Raven will need to appear to be going trading, then.”

“Yeah,” Clarke replied – and she realized she knew exactly which trading post she could take Raven to before striking out for TonDC.

With that settled, Clarke settled into the routine task of inventorying and cleaning the medical instruments in the tent while the three others settled the final details of her mother’s ruse.

In the evening dusk, Clarke saw that the Grounders had almost completely packed up and were getting ready to leave. She sipped at her water ration as she shifted on her chair near the open-air still. Octavia, across from her, picked nervously at the table.

“Hey, it’ll be all right, O,” Clarke reassured.

Octavia’s hand stilled, and she sighed. “Yeah, I know,” she muttered. “I just hope Indra didn’t change her mind.”

“You know you’ll be going to TonDC tomorrow to pretend to ask for amnesty for Lincoln, right?”

Octavia let out a short, hollow chuckle. “He sort of already has it, but… yeah. And you know Bellamy’s going to want to tag along.” She didn’t quite roll her eyes.

“He just wants to look out for you,” Clarke recited.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that so many times growing up. I’m sick of it. I’m on Earth now, for fuck’s sake!” hissed Octavia.

Clarke nodded in sympathy. Deciding to change the subject, she wondered, “What do you remember about Earth Skills? I had Pike from Farm Station and I can’t help but wonder how he’s doing.” Hopefully, not being attacked by Azgeda soldiers yet. And it is still so incredible that he could get so twisted so easily.

Octavia’s eyebrows went up. “You didn’t know? We had a two week crash course in Earth Skills just before we went down. Most of the time it was just him blabbering stuff at us, but the last day—” Octavia sat up in her chair and leaned over the table. “Pike started in on Murphy, who was being kind of a dipshit, but Pike just—I don’t know why, but he wanted to start a fight. Before I knew it, Pike was strangling Murphy on his desk!”

Clarke stared, dumbfounded. “What the floating fuck?” Nobody had ever mentioned this in that other timeline, probably as half of that class probably died in the first month down, and it had just been one thing after another until Mount Weather.

“I know!” Octavia’s face showed how shocked she’d been at the time, as she said, “I couldn’t believe it. It was just – he just, like, snapped.”

“Wow,” Clarke breathed. “So he must’ve known you were going down and couldn’t tell you, and I guess he got fed up with your class, but what the hell, Octavia? That’s…”

The Pike Clarke remembered on the Ark had been diffident and even-tempered, only being slightly sarcastic with the underachievers who just wanted a bare pass in Earth Skills because they didn’t see the point when Earthfall was thought to still be a generation or more away.

“Tell me about it,” said Octavia. “And he’s alive. Or maybe. He kind of scared me, Clarke.”

He definitely gave those kids a reason to be scared of him, mused Clarke. Could it be, she wondered, that Pike had so easily fallen into xenophobia and hatred because some part of him had always wanted to be the one in charge? To be the one to give orders and instructions?

She devoutly hoped Lexa could work a miracle and get those Farm Station people to Camp Jaha as fast as possible.

The sun dropped below the horizon, and not a minute later, the lights all went out.

Confused cries and roars rose up from the camp’s residents. Kane, holding a flashlight, thundered past as he roared, “Everybody stay calm! Someone, go find Sinclair and get the power back on!”

Clarke reached out, grabbing for Octavia’s hand. The two held each other’s hands in a vise-grip as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. She turned to Octavia and said, “You okay to go to the fence?”

“Yeah.”

The two, hand in hand, threaded their way through the camp, barely missing being hit by unidentifiable body-sized lumps as they would exchange whispered apologies.

At the fence, near the closest point of approach for Lincoln’s arrival, they stayed put, not making any sudden moves as a guard briefly flashed a light in their faces. Clarke, shielding her eyes, said, “Kane or Byrne should’ve told you we’d be here.”

“Yes, misses. Stay and don’t move.” The light went out again.

Meanwhile, a quarter of the way around the camp, flashlights wagged around as sharp utterances flew between Kane and the security guards. Finally, he barked, “Outside the gate! In that direction; I saw something move. Half of you, out the gate; the other half, stay here!”

They were being directed way off from where Lexa’s group was now heading back under the tree cover, so there would be no chance of accidentally firing at anyone. Nonetheless, as though Kane had had the same thought, he barked, “And no firing unless attacked!”

It was beautifully orchestrated confusion as everybody’s eyes drew to the security guards now cautiously stepping across the grounds outside the camp boundaries, shining their flashlights in the direction of the forest, shifting every which way as the beams flickered left and right.

Even as Clarke’s nerves, keyed up as they were, kept her watching near the fence for someone approaching, she still almost yelped as a shadowy figure crawled up to the wires, hissing, “It’s Lincoln!”

Octavia and Clarke rushed to get Lincoln through the de-powered wires, then hurried Lincoln in a path that carried them past several obstacles blocking easy line of sight to their movements, getting him inside a small side door. Clarke remembered she had one of Raven’s special penlights on her, and clicked it on.

Octavia beamed. “Lincoln!”

Lincoln grinned back and swept her up in a hug before setting her back down on her feet. Octavia said, “So how’d you do it?”

“Indra already got me into dark clothing in the tent. She also cut me loose in the forest as soon as your lights went out. I sneaked back and here I am,” Lincoln replied.

“Pfff,” scoffed Octavia. “You make it sound so easy! I still jumped out of my skin when I saw you at the fence!”

Lincoln just chuckled. Octavia wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, big guy, but we gotta get you into the shower.”

“I might need some help,” suggested Lincoln as he looked down at Octavia.

Octavia’s mouth curved up in a slow satisfied grin as she purred, “You just might.”

Clarke made a barfing noise. “You guys.”

Octavia thumped Clarke’s shoulder in mock-indignation, provoking a laugh from Lincoln.

At that moment, the lights came back up and they all blinked owlishly, seeing that they were in one of the side corridors. Octavia gestured down the hallway. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. See you later, Clarke!”

Clarke waved goodbye, then trailed behind, walking slowly as she hoped the two lovers would find more peace and acceptance this time around.

Chapter Text

Clarke was falling, falling, falling…

The air whistled past her ears as she looked up at the starlit sky, but any pleasure in the view was cut short when she twisted, looking over her shoulder at the ground below.

The malevolently gleaming lake was looming closer with each passing second, and Clarke screamed, “NO!”

She slammed her eyes shut, dreading the inevitable blasts through her.

But she landed with a hard thump instead. She opened her eyes, and stared in shock as Lexa smiled down at her—

Clarke jolted awake, and as her breathing slowed she thought again about her nightmare-that-wasn’t-quite. There were, she decided, worse things than at least getting to see Lexa instead of the inside of a lake.

Still, as she wiped the sweat from her brow and got ready to get a quick shower, she thought, this shit is getting old real fast.

Through one of the windows in a little-used room off one of the Ark corridors, Clarke could see it was still dark. She had spent some time the night before redrawing the map Lexa had given her. Only Kane and her mother would actually need it, since Lincoln would know the way to TonDC, and Clarke had an unfair advantage.

Nonetheless, for form’s sake, she handed out two pieces of paper, one to her mother and Kane, and one to Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln, keeping the third for herself and Raven. “Just in case you need to know where the trading posts and hunting grounds are, for real. Raven and I will go to one of the posts near here then take the shortcut to the TonDC trail. We’ll probably get there by late afternoon.”

A now clean-shaven and newly-outfitted Lincoln said, “Since we’ll go directly we should be there by early noon. Octavia can speak with Indra then.” He sighed. “Indra and I had a long talk yesterday, and…” Lincoln’s brow furrowed as he considered. “She is very … traditional, in some ways. She wouldn’t like it when I would go to Floudonkru – the Boat People – without telling her exactly when I’d be back. And she’s old enough to remember the border conflicts with the Azgeda – the Ice Nation – before Heda unified the Twelve Clan Coalition. She feels strongly about her people, even if she understands why I might choose not to leap to battle as the first resort.” He looked at Octavia and smiled at her.

“So what did she say?” prodded Clarke.

“She will ‘overlook’ my escape and grant amnesty if I agree to live here for a time – a banishment of sorts,” Lincoln concluded, not looking terribly put out. “I think she has decided to be rather lenient partly because Heda has declared matters settled between Trikru and Skaikru, and because Indra personally would like to have time to consider that I am a man again and not a Ripa.”

Octavia patted Lincoln’s arm. “Well, I’m sure we can make your banishment very pleasant.”

Kane coughed loudly. “If we can quickly wrap up here,” he called. “Abby and I have to do a little sneaking around; she’s supposed to be under medical isolation so she needs to get Byrne’s security outfit and helmet on.” He looked around again. “See you all at TonDC, and remember – we need to be on our best behavior when we get there. As of today, we will be on a secret war footing with the Mountain, and I’d like to delay their knowledge of that fact as long as we can.”

Raven snapped her fingers. “Hey! Just remembered. Sinclair and I came up with a simple radio code. It’s based around the hunting and animal studies classes we learned in Earth Skills, so, like, ‘I saw an owl’, that’s code for ‘I spotted an observer’. Or ‘I heard an eagle’, that’d be me telling you I overheard the Mountain Men getting ready to use the acid fog.” She handed out some small slips of paper. Raven warned, “You need to destroy this code if you get caught by anyone. Got it?”

Nods all around punctuated Kane’s final admonishment to get going.

Clarke and Raven kept to the easiest trails on the way to Niylah’s trading post; they were wide and flat or gently sloping at worst. As the morning sun rose slowly in the sky, the trees filled with the soft chittering of wildlife, and the hazy sunbeams filtered through the tree cover, lending a soft ethereal glow to the surroundings as they walked.

“How’re you doing, Raven?” Clarke asked.

“It’s only been about an hour. So far, so good.” Raven adjusted her earbud and cocked her head before nodding to herself. “Still on the usual playlist. Kinda boring.” The wire from her earbud trailed over her shoulder and down into her backpack. No change from the Mountain’s usual.

Clarke jibed, “Change up the music, then.” Make anyone watching think Raven cobbled together a music player.

Raven shrugged and kept pace with Clarke’s ambling as they moved along the trail.

A few moments later, Clarke said, “I forgot to tell you. I picked up some trading phrases in Trig from Octavia. She says she got them from Lincoln and Nyko.”

“Lay it on me, then,” Raven said.

Clarke went through some of the basic phrases she knew from her time in these forests, interacting with the traders and hunters (who she always took care to speak to in disguise); Raven picked them up pretty quickly, giving Clarke hope that enough of her people could pick up the language to become fluent in a few months.

The time passed quickly as they talked of other things as well, such as Raven’s most daring and creative Zero-G mechanic work, and Clarke’s impromptu chess tournament that ended with her and Wells trouncing the rest of her class, and then playing each other and getting stalemate in two consecutive games.

Clarke looked ahead and pointed. “See the bit of smoke there? I bet we’re close now!”

Raven grinned and picked up the pace. “C’mon, then! Race ya.” She stuck her tongue out at Clarke.

Clarke laughed, lengthening her stride to easily keep pace with Raven as they approached the clearing amid the large, high trees. Just as she remembered, two arches of wood crossed one another, marking the entrance to the trading post, with the metal chimney poking up and almost politely puffing out smoke into the air.

The two travellers slowed their steps, almost hesitantly approaching the arches. Clarke called, “Hei! Chon der?”

She shifted her backpack as she looked around the clearing, trying to spot anyone approaching. Could Niylah and her father both be out on some errand or another?

Raven muttered, “If we’ve come all this way for nothing I am going to smack you over the head with my radio.”

At that moment, the dark wood front door opened, and the attractive blonde woman stepped out. She smiled, a bit uncertainly, and gestured inside. She spoke in Trigedasleng, saying, “Mounin. Komba raun in.”

Clarke nudged Raven, who grinned at Niylah. “Hei. Uh, osir laik Skaikru, en osir gaf… um, shit. We’d like to trade, I’m sorry I screwed that up.”

Niylah’s smile grew wider. “A good first try. You mean ‘gaf kofon in’.”

Clarke let herself relax and smile as well, taking in Niylah’s outfit as she followed Raven inside the still-chilly trading post. Niylah was wearing the same generally-brown-colored shirt-coat and leggings as she had some months later. Once fully inside as Niylah shut the door, Clarke let out a slow breath, grateful to be able to look around without the constant haunting overhang of wanting to be away from anyone who might want her for something.

It looked much as Clarke recalled from the last time she’d traded there, when she’d brought in a large cougar (or lion, or bobcat, for all she knew) and been given the salted jerky from her last kill.

She turned her head to see Niylah ushering Raven over to the large steel table, as always empty of items so traders and Niylah could examine anything being bought or sold. Niylah’s eyes took in Raven, then Clarke, and then slid back to Raven as she said, “Chon yu bilaik?”

Raven’s expression turned to intense concentration as she replied, “Okay, um. Ai laik Reivon.” At Niylah’s encouraging nod, she continued as she pointed at Clarke. “En em laik Klark.”

Niylah nodded. “Very good. Ai laik Naila kom Trikru. As you are Skaikru, I would be interested in anything you might have.”

Clarke noticed Raven’s eyes travelling up and down Niylah before fastening again on the trader woman’s eyes. Raven said, “Well, I hope so, but I can’t promise anything.” Slight red spots tinged her cheeks as she admitted, “I feel like I should’ve learned more Trigedasleng now.”

Niylah reached out and briefly grasped Raven’s forearm. Hook, line and sinker, Clarke snickered to herself. Niylah said, “My father is a gona, a fighter. He learned the gonasleng and taught it to me as well. He told me of the truce that had been set by our Heda, between our people and yours. I was expecting some of you to come, actually. So the fact that you are trying to speak our language is already a good omen.”

Clarke left her backpack with Raven and said, “I might have some things too. Feel free to take a look. We need clothes, particularly.” To Niylah, she said, “May I look around?”

Niylah’s nod freed her from the grouping, and Clarke happily let events take their course as Raven and Niylah began poring over what could be traded. She wandered about, eyeing this trinket and that item, spotting some good hunting knives as well as some furs. The clothing selection that she could see was pretty eclectic, and she wasn’t sure what would or wouldn’t fit. In the worst case, she decided, at least there’d be more clothes to trade around in Arka—Camp Jaha—if they could bring some back.

Clarke heard the womens’ voices rise and fall, catching snippets of Niylah explaining certain Trigedasleng words to Raven, and Raven trying to explain what a walkie-talkie did. Over in one of the far corners, Clarke rested her butt against one of the long back tables covered with all manner of goods and, mostly out of view of Niylah and Raven, thought back to her one stolen night of momentary happiness with the blonde.

Whatever she’d had with her, there hadn’t been that spark, that indefinable wanting-to-be-with-you closeness like she’d re-experienced with Lexa. But, she mused with a smile, from the sound of things, Raven was going to get to see that awesome back tattoo.

She looked up through one of the high windows and noticed the shadows had shifted a bit. Clarke sighed and stepped back around, regret washing over her as she saw how Raven’s easy grin matched Niylah’s own as the latter showed off a finely-crafted wooden sundial that she was going to restore and set outside.

Clarke coughed as she stepped up. She said to Niylah, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we, um…”

She looked at Raven, who nodded and said, “I really wish we could stay, but we need to begin going back to our home. But believe me, I’d love to come back to your, um, kofgeda?”

Niylah nodded. “Yes, kofgeda. Perhaps you could bring something that gives more steady light.” Her brows furrowed in apology. “Your devices of sound seem too impractical, and most of what else you have are clearly travelling provisions.”

Raven’s eyes lit up. “A lamp? Oh, hell yeah, I’ll bring you a kick-ass lamp that won’t need a battery change for like, months.”

“Then you will come back?” asked Niylah. Clarke caught the barest rise of anticipation in her voice.

“You got it. In a few days, for sure,” Raven replied. “We’ve got some things going on, and you can probably tell I have a bad leg, so I can’t travel alone.”

Clarke quickly interposed, saying, “Is there food I can gather near here? I can leave Raven with you next time.”

Niylah tilted her head, pondering for a moment. “It is some distance away, but there is a small field of blackberries that are safe to eat. You could go that way today, actually, as it is not too far off your way back.”

“Great!” Clarke smiled. “It was good meeting you, and I hope when we come back next time we will have things you want.”

Raven grinned. “For sure. Nice meeting you, Niylah.” She extended her hand to the other woman, who hesitated, then took her arm, Grounder-fashion.

Niylah’s voice dropped, her tone husky as she replied, “As it was meeting you.”

Raven and Niylah slowly released each other’s arms and tried not to make it obvious that their faces were tinged with a bit of redness. As Niylah escorted them out, Clarke quickly confirmed the directions to the blackberry field, then as soon as Niylah waved and went back inside her trading post, she said to Raven, “Let’s get going.”

As they began walking, Raven nervously shifted her backpack, clearly wanting to wait until they had gotten some distance away from the trading post. After about a minute, Raven whispered to Clarke, “I thought Lincoln was hot, but holy shit, did you get a look at her?”

Clarke shrugged. “She’s good-looking, yeah, but I dunno.”

Raven socked Clarke on the shoulder. “You dunno? You have no eyes, woman!”

“Okay, fine! She is kind of cute.” Clarke chuckled. “So… you like her?”

Raven sputtered, “Like her?” She smirked. “I’d say so! She looks really cute when she smiles.” She leaned in. “And did you see her gorgeous—” Raven held her hands out in front of her, indicating Niylah’s rather generous cleavage.

Clarke, having seen – and touched – said cleavage in another world, just coughed and stuck her nose in the air. “Not listeniiiiiing,” she singsonged.

Raven laughed. “We’ll find you someone someday, Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke permitted herself an ironic smirk as she already knew full well who her ‘someone’ was. But Raven, in this world, was happy and grinning – not conflicted over Finn’s imminent death – not glaring at Clarke in hate for doing the only sane thing she could have done at that exact point in time – not still mourning even as Clarke had to push her to continue with the radio.

A loopy, head-over-heels Raven Reyes was an amusing subject to consider, and Clarke’s conscience eased a little more with the good she was doing for this new world.

Chapter Text

Clarke and Raven made good time, although the trails had gotten a bit tougher for a while, requiring Raven to sit down from time to time and let Clarke massage her leg muscles while musing about Niylah. Clarke found it endearingly annoying and amusing at first, managing to keep from laughing at Raven’s expense.

“Say, Clarke, do you think she likes it if you feed her blackberries?” had been the last straw, though.

Clarke had had to stop massaging Raven’s thigh and cover her face as she burst out laughing. After a few moments, Clarke was able to settle down enough to see the sheepish look on Raven’s face.

“I’ve got it bad, huh?” Raven half-wondered.

“Ooooooooh yeah,” Clarke replied.

Raven buried her head in her hands for a moment and chuckled ruefully. “Okay, new rule, don’t keep asking Clarke about hot blonde Grounder chick.”

Clarke got to her feet and smiled warmly at Raven as she reached out to help Raven up off the rock she was sitting on. “Still, I hope you two hit it off. Lincoln and Octavia and Lexa and me can’t be the only two examples of Grounder-Sky Person cooperation.”

Raven gave Clarke a quizzical look. “You and Lexa…? As in the Commander Lexa?”

Clarke waved that off. “It’s not like that, honestly. We just get along well.”

“Still, that’s better than like, a week ago when we were ready to pretty much start another war. You might not’ve heard about it, but just after the Ark came down three guys went searching for any stragglers and they got nailed to a big tree as a warning,” Raven noted. “Plus there was that whole dropship thing.”

“No – no, I didn’t,” said Clarke faintly. That must have been just after we got taken to Mount Weather, she realized. “At least we have peace now, thanks mostly to her.”

Raven poked Clarke on the shoulder. “Still, if anything changes…?”

“Yes, I will let you know so you know you are not the only one experiencing the pleasures of a Grounder woman.”

“Excellent! Lead on, princess.”

“Keep up, mechanic.”

Their arrival at TonDC was much less fraught with tension this time, as they approached along the wide clearing which was not far from the signs that said “Biohazard” and “tonDC”.

Three bored-looking guards stood on the trail, one wearing some kind of mask. The masked one said, “Skaikru?”

Raven and Clarke nodded, and the guard on the other side of the lane pointed at a barrel next to his feet. “Weapons, please.”

Clarke duly divested herself of the small pistol she’d obtained that morning (Kane had been reluctant, but allowed that with dangerous wildlife out beyond Camp Jaha, they stood a better chance that way), and Raven dropped off the one knife she’d packed in one of the side pockets of her bag.

The guards nodded and the masked one said, “Go in. Your other Skaikru are already here. Go through the small village. He will escort you.” He pointed at the third guard standing in the middle of the lane.

Clarke nodded briefly at both, along with Raven, and the two women duly proceeded behind the guard to the small village, where they encountered Nyko talking to a boy named Artigas before he shooed off the teenager to collect some berries. Nyko smiled broadly and said, “Come. I will take you to your friends.”

Clarke remembered the order Nyko had given Artigas and said, as they began walking, “When do you want Finn for food gathering?”

“As it is close to winter, much of the harvesting is already done in Trikru lands. We may arrange to send him south, or as with Artigas, to have him help gather roots and berries.”

Even though the lack of a recent massacre had eased tensions considerably, Clarke noticed a few suspicious stares from people here and there, and there were muttered comments in Trigedasleng that hearkened back to the battle at the dropship. The guard’s and Nyko’s presences kept anything from flaring up, however. It was a decided change from practically a full honor guard beside Lexa, upon which Gustus had had to beat up a villager for not getting out of the way.

Hopefully Lexa had already spread the word that an alliance would soon form, but even if not, dire penalties probably would ensue for anyone breaking the truce especially on a visit to the Trikru capital.

It is certainly less dramatic than a full ceremonial procession, thought Clarke, but we have a day or so before the Mountain may know we’re on the move against them.

Cage Wallace swivelled in his chair and eyed his adjutant, Carl Emerson, inside the main operations chamber of Mount Weather. He brushed his hand along the table to his left, then said, “I need a situation update on that Ark, Lieutenant. Are the outsiders going to ever attack it, or not?”

Emerson tapped a few keys, pulling up a false-color image of the Ark and environs, shaded in night-vision green. He stood, looked at the image, then shook his head slowly. “No, sir. They aren’t. But at the same time, we do know the present commander of the outsiders seems to be willing to make deals and alliances. She came to this area a day ago, spoke briefly with some of the people of the Ark, then went into the forest with them. A larger group returned, but they were separated into two groups – the natives, and the people from the Ark.”

Cage rubbed his finger across his lip. “So, we can assume she made them find a hostage, perhaps? As the price for leaving the Ark alone?”

“It seems reasonable, sir. Our outside observers have reported that relations seem tentative at best. The girl who left here, Clarke Griffin, was seen arguing loudly for entry to the commander’s tent after the outsiders secured their captive, and they got a bit rough with her. Whatever’s going on, they aren’t suddenly talking of alliance.”

Cage grunted. “And there is no sign of an imminent war footing?”

Emerson shook his head. “Negative, sir. In fact they had a minor electrical power failure last night, and it spooked them all so much, they had people at the fences and one of their leaders sent out some security people to try and find something they thought was moving in the trees. Our observer had to temporarily withdraw to reduce the risk of being spotted with their flashlights being aimed every which way.”

“So their population isn’t ready for any kind of sustained battle – not if they have no crisis management planning for even something as basic as a loss of power,” agreed Cage. He shifted in his chair and looked again at the screen showing the Ark.

Emerson added, “Corroborating your assessment, we just obtained surveillance footage from our recent off-shift observer. A few scattered groups left what they call ‘Camp Jaha’ at about 0600 to 0800 this morning and went into the woods, which fits in the context of a basic truce – basically they don’t hurt each other, is what it seems like.”

Cage frowned. “Show me who left.”

“The pictures are not very clear, sir, but I can show you.” Emerson tapped a few more keys on his keyboard, calling up three groups in the same faux green shaded coloring: A hooded man next to a girl with a sword on her back, and a boy carrying a machine-gun; one of the leaders of the group, a thin man with a shock of black hair, flanked by a masked security guard, and a blonde girl with a brunette.

Cage peered at the images. “They all went in different directions?”

Emerson nodded. “If I had to guess I would say that these two are going to try and make trades or gather fruits”—he indicated the blonde and brunette—“while the other two groups are going hunting for game. You should know we did manage to identify that blonde as Clarke Griffin, the girl who escaped from here. She could have told them to make a move against us.”

“So why haven’t they?” Cage pointed at Emerson. “Those other two groups could be drilling for target shooting.”

“Does that really strike you as reasonable, sir? This isn’t an army or even training for one; their security forces should at least be having live-fire drills,” noted Emerson. His brow furrowed, and he looked again at the screen.

Cage sighed and stood up. “All right, then. Whatever they’re doing, they’re obviously not going to be gunning for us any time soon. Maybe the girl couldn’t convince her elders that she was telling the truth.”

“Still, there is the risk of a threat from them, sir,” Emerson said.

“Which Tsing’s revelation mitigates in any case. Plus, we have the veil. Nobody is getting through that, and even if they did, we have our Cerberus program. We can always make more devils to scare off the outsiders as well as the Ark people.”

Cage grinned. “I think it’s time we went full speed ahead with Tsing’s revelation, don’t you agree?”

Emerson stood at attention and nodded. “Sir.”

Cage smirked to himself as he thought about how fortunate it had been to catch the girl, Harper, wandering about alone after hours. The kids in the Mountain might worry, but they’d just assume what Dante had told the boy, Jasper: that like Clarke Griffin, she had gotten fed up and left. What did it matter if the girl – and the 46 others – might die as long as he could give all of the residents of Mount Weather the gift of radiation immunity in the end? His father might be suspicious now, but he would go along or risk being thrown out of office one way or another.

Yes, Cage thought, he would be the President that gave the earth back to his people.

They were met in TonDC proper on one of their widest streetways by a full honor guard consisting of Lexa, Gustus, Indra, and four soldiers lined up along the left. Across from them on the right were Kane, Abby (now out of her bulky security guard outfit), Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln. Clarke smiled at her fellow Sky People and took up a spot to Octavia’s right, with Raven on her left.

She looked around and saw that a crowd was beginning to gather; clearly, people must have realized that with Clarke’s and Raven’s entry, ceremonies would begin.

Lexa’s glance took in Clarke for a second before she called, “I formally welcome the representatives of the Sky People to our capital TonDC. On this occasion, we mark the formation of an alliance – a hukop – because they have proven their worth beyond a simple truce. From this point on, the Sky People march with us now!”

Lexa then repeated the entire thing in Trigedasleng before gesturing to the familiar faded yellow door that would take the group downstairs to the underground levels of TonDC.

As a soldier opened the door, letting the Sky People go first, Clarke managed to fall in line just behind Kane. She tapped him on the shoulder as they went down the stairs. “Did you bring an alcoholic beverage?”

Kane nodded. “It was undamaged, amazingly enough. A special brew stashed away. I thought this would be as good a time as any to bring it.”

Clarke whispered, “Make sure you offer it to Heda Leksa kom Trikru, and then have me drink from that bottle.”

Kane shook his head in confusion. “What?”

They were now taking spots around the series of rectangular tables on which sat many inviting fruits and meats. Clarke hadn’t had much of heated grounder cuisine, but that salted jerky was good. Niylah and her father were masters at spicing it just right to take the edge off the salty taste underneath.

Clarke contrived to get a spot directly across from Lexa, and Marcus, on her right, muttered, “Are you worried about poisoning? Here?!”

Clarke hissed back, “Do you really think Lexa doesn’t have enemies? This would be almost the perfect chance to start a war!”

Kane shook his head in bemusement, but schooled his features into impassiveness as everybody took their spots and quieted, waiting for a speech to begin. Lexa favored Clarke with a brief look that hid mild concern, then spoke to the room at large. “Today, we gather to eat and drink, to show that we celebrate peace and alliance for the final goal of defeating the Mountain forever.”

Raised eyebrows among the Grounders – especially some of the generals she vaguely recognized – punctuated that, but they stilled again as Lexa continued. “The Skaikru have just as much a stake as we do in defeating the Mountain. They may have only forty-seven people to our thousands over the years, but they are just as offended and just as angry about the thousands who have perished in the Mountain, as they are about the imprisonment of their forty-seven.

“But on this occasion, let our thoughts turn to the very real and very joyous fact that we stand across from one another to cement an alliance that will endure forever.”

Clarke stood, enraptured by Lexa’s words. She had to shake herself to remember she needed to prove to all concerned that the Sky People really did mean it when they talked of alliance and attacking the Mountain.

Kane cleared his throat and carefully withdrew a flask from his coat as he spoke, his voice soft but still carrying to all corners of the room. He held the flask out said, “I would like to present this gift to you, Heda Leksa kom Trikru. We, uh, drink this on formal occasions and I believe this qualifies.”

Lexa nodded. “Thank you, Marcus of the Sky People – Markos kom Skaikru.”

Kane handed the bottle to Clarke, who said, “I apologize for this change from the usual custom of handing the drink directly from leader to representative or leader, but I want to show that the Sky People mean you all no harm.”

So saying, Clarke wrestled the top off the bottle and took a hefty swig, shivering momentarily as the harsh bittersweet alcohol flowed across her tongue, leaving a warm feeling in her stomach. She eyed Gustus, whose lips had thinned to virtually nothing. So, she thought, she had managed to sabotage his poisoning attempt.

Clarke handed the bottle to Lexa, who smiled briefly and reached for it directly, smoothly pre-empting Gustus’s abortive attempt to continue his plan. She held the bottle in her hands, turning it over in the light before looking back up. She said, her eyebrows lifting as she did so, “Clarke, let us drink together.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Clarke replied, trying to keep her mental chorus of middle fingers at Gustus from showing in her expression.

A servant brought two cups, but before Gustus could take them, Lexa’s hand went up. “Hod op.”

She reached out, taking one from the servant for herself, then taking the other cup and setting it beside the first. Before she could pour out the drinks, however, Gustus let out a pained, “Heda, nou.”

Lexa’s face grew stern. Oh, shit, Clarke realized. That’s her ‘do not fuck with me’ face. Please don’t let us get arrested again, I don’t want anyone to suffer for this… Please let her have remembered this happening!

Clarke’s breath hitched and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as Lexa fixed Gustus with a fierce gaze. “Chomouda yu nou gaf ai drein dison daun?”

When Gustus refused to answer, Lexa said, “Gostos, tel ai ridiyo op. Gonasleng.”

Gustus seemed to deflate. In ragged English, he said, “I poisoned the cups. It would make you sick.”

“But not die,” said Lexa, flatly.

“No, you would not,” replied Gustus, his breathing now coming in ragged short breaths as his eyes darted this way and that.

Lexa raised a hand and beckoned. Before Gustus could move, three heavyset men had already leaped from the shadows to hold Gustus in place. Lexa snarled, “We will have an accounting later. Get him out of my sight.”

Gustus was shuffled off, and Clarke, wide-eyed throughout the entire exchange in shock, let out a slow sigh of relief, accompanied by similar wheezes all up and down the Sky People side of the table.

Lexa’s gaze was downcast for a moment, but she quickly recovered as she looked back up at Clarke. “We will have new cups in a moment, and we will drink together as planned, Clarke.” She favored her with a small smile.

To the room at large, Lexa called, “On behalf of our kongeda, the Coalition of Twelve Clans, as well as the Trikru, I apologize for the attempt by Gustus to damage this momentous occasion. Rest assured, he will pay an appropriate penalty.”

Soon after, two clean cups were brought up, and Lexa handed Clarke her drink. She raised her cup and called out to the room at large even as her eyes stayed fixed on Clarke, “Let nothing stand in the way of this alliance. Today we celebrate our newfound peace. Tomorrow, we plan for war. I dedicate this to those who we have lost, and to those we shall soon find.”

Clarke and Lexa each swallowed back their drinks at the same time, plunking their cups down in satisfaction. Lexa turned to Kane and said, “I find this very agreeable. Perhaps we can trade for this someday.”

Kane chuckled. “Just be careful with it. It’s pretty potent.”

Lexa just lifted an eyebrow of sardonic amusement before calling out, “And now let us be seated.”

And for the first time in this world, Clarke got to see a proper Trikru state occasion; surprisingly, even Indra unbent enough to say a few words to Abby as they spoke across from one another. Clarke and Lexa, for their part, spoke mainly of Clarke's artwork, with Kane remarking at one point he had seen some of it in her cell after she was released.

The food was good and the drinks were better, and nobody (except Gustus, now likely cursing himself avidly in a prison cell) was harmed.

Chapter Text

After the dinner broke up, Clarke sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her coat, now removed, hung off one corner, leaving her rather thin shirt (she hadn’t had much of a choice, so it was that or wear a heavier shirt that smelled like it could stand up on its own) and her most durable jeans.

The meal she’d just had was the first really good one she’d had in … well, she couldn’t remember. She beamed at Lexa, who was pushing her seat back, and called, “The food was excellent, Commander.”

Murmurs of agreement came from Clarke’s fellow Sky People, as well.

It didn’t hurt that she had a slightly pleasant floating feeling in her head, too. The Grounders had served the equivalent of a wine, made from local grapes and fruits that were allowed to ferment. It had to be served relatively fresh, so it was more of a delicacy than a routine drink. Abby, taking the hint, had said, “Please pass on our thanks to the people who worked to make this wine.”

That had gone over well, considered Clarke. Her mother having realized much earlier the true existential threat and recognizing Clarke’s leadership among the younger people of the Ark, was now inclined to be more willing, as had Kane from almost the start, to help grease the wheels of diplomacy with tact and kindness.

Lexa, now standing, inclined her head. “Thank you, Clarke. May I speak to you alone for a few moments?”

Clarke heaved herself to her feet and said, “Sure. Where?” She grabbed up her coat and shrugged back into it.

Abby took that moment to say, “I see it’ll be dark soon. Can we make arrangements for sleeping quarters?”

In an aside to Clarke, Lexa said, “We can remain behind for a few minutes.” To Abby, Lexa nodded. “Of course. We prepared an unused gona barracks for you. Indra, Nyko, would you take the other Skaikru en Linkon there?”

Nyko nodded and went to speak with Lincoln, clapping his friend on the back as he then gathered everybody to go back up the stairs, with Indra taking the lead.

Lexa nodded at her soldiers, who also trooped out of the room, leaving Clarke and Lexa alone amid the messy leavings of a large dinner, and several still-lit candles. Lexa came around to Clarke’s side and sat down on a chair to Clarke’s right, upon which Clarke sat back down as well, her knees nearly touching Lexa’s. Clarke rested her left elbow on the table.

Lexa leaned in, speaking in soft whispers. “This occasion – when it happened, did Gustus poison himself in that other world?”

Clarke nodded. “It was bad. There was this huge anticipation because everybody was all still getting over the funeral for the villagers and you’d agreed to an alliance anyway. Gustus was worried about … I don’t know how to put it. He thought this alliance would destabilize your coalition and put you in danger, so he made it look like we’d tried to poison you by making himself get sick from the cup.”

‘Then my memory unfolding before me the moment you all lined up at the table was accurate as your own experience.” Lexa nodded to herself and sighed. “And now I must decide what to do with Gustus. I must surely have killed him last time for that attempt. Jus drein jus daun for his treachery.”

Clarke shuddered. “It was awful. You all sliced him up, and then you slid your sword into him after he told you to stay strong.”

Lexa’s expression went blank for a moment, then she blinked and turned pale. “He… is like a father to me, more so than Titus, who insisted on dogmatically repeating the doctrine that Commanders stand alone and they cannot afford emotional attachments.”

“Do you have to do it again, this time?” Clarke chewed her lip. For Lexa to not only remember, but to have to re-enact that memory… at least Raven would never be falsely accused and threatened with death; Lexa must have felt she could not show leniency with Gustus because of what she had done to Raven for the same crime.

Lexa, her face slowly becoming less pale, shook her head. “No. I have decided on a much more suitable punishment.” She paused to tap the table briefly. “I have been thinking about our Azgeda problem with retrieving your people, and one of my memories that was allowed to come back with me was a name: Ontari.”

Clarke snapped her fingers and sat up, the hazy feeling retreating a bit in her head as her mind worked. “She’s a Nightblood. But Nia stole her away years ago, hoping to eventually put her on your throne and effectively rule the Coalition.”

“And so it would be justified for me to punish Gustus by sending him away to Azgeda, along with some gonas and Titus, to seek out Ontari. He will be essentially banished for a time, doing a dangerous duty that may risk his life, while at the same time making Nia wonder which one of her closest advisers might be a treacherous spy reporting back to me with her deepest secrets. She will spend the next while being more concerned about her internal politics than reports of a strange ark that fell from the sky. After all, your ‘Farm Station’ – I mean no offence – are not experienced fighters, while her advisers almost certainly are.”

“None taken. What’ll you do about Ontari?” wondered Clarke.

Lexa looked away, her expression growing somber. “Even the thought of executing Ontari when she has the rare blood that grants her the right of challenging to become Heda is … not pleasant.”

“You need to be very careful about her. Lexa, she—” Clarke trailed off, the unpleasant memory ominously lurking at the edge of her consciousness.

“She did something in your world after I died,” Lexa concluded. When Clarke hesitated, Lexa, with a hint of steel in her voice, ordered, “Tell me. I would rather know the truth.”

“Ontari massacred all of your Nightblood novitiates in their sleep by cutting off their heads,” Clarke whispered, shutting her eyes against that horrific memory of a smirking Ontari, her face smeared with the precious black blood, some of which had surely been Aden’s.

Lexa’s nostrils flared. She looked up, glaring at Clarke, true anger showing as she ground out, “And as she has not done this yet, I cannot even enact jus drein jus daun for this… this disgusting, revolting thing she did in your world!”

Clarke reached out with her left hand, holding Lexa’s arm lightly. “I’m sorry, Lexa.”

Lexa clasped Clarke’s hand with her left hand and sat for some moments, her fingers slowly tapping across the top of Clarke’s hand. The light warm touch of Lexa’s fingers soothed Clarke, letting her re-center herself, as Lexa took the time to recover her equanimity.

Lexa took a deep breath and slowly released herself from Clarke’s hands, rising to her feet. Clarke stood to join her, and as Lexa looked her in the eye, she said, “I will have to take time to consider. In the meantime, I will personally escort you through TonDC to meet your fellow Sky People. Who will stay for the beginning of war preparations?”

‘All business’ Lexa was better than angry Lexa, at any rate. Clarke joined Lexa at the stairs as she mused, “I’ll stay, for sure. Um, Lincoln will need to go back to Camp Jaha, since he’s technically not supposed to be here for longer than you and Indra allow. My mom will need to sneak back too. She’s supposed to be sick back at the Ark. I don’t know about Bellamy, Octavia, Raven or Kane though.”

As they approached the stairs, Lexa murmured, “We can see about lending horses, or horses and a carriage, for the return journey.”

Clarke turned and said, “That would be great.” She stopped just as they were about to mount the stairs. She raised a finger, thinking to herself for a second. Clarke spoke slowly, dragging the memory back across that hectic, horrific week and the months that had passed since then. “There’s something important. Around now, last time – I think we were personally targeted by the Mountain. I was on a fast horse, riding back with my mother and some gonas plus Indra and Octavia. I nearly got shot by a sniper.”

Lexa tapped her chin, then said, “Will this happen again?”

“Maybe. I can’t be sure.” Clarke worried her lip. “But in that other place, you came to us with this huge army – I had to—” Clarke’s stomach twisted as she remembered Finn, but went on, saying, “—we all came to TonDC to have the funeral pyre. I think that got the attention of the Mountain, because otherwise they had no reason to send the sniper. One of them was Carl Emerson.” Emerson. Shit! Clarke’s stomach momentarily clenched in panic, then eased as she remembered he’d basically been completely useless. Next time we see him, if Octavia’s with me, I’m letting her have that first kill, but not before I explain to him in great lovely detail just what she wants to do to him for Lincoln.

Lexa stared into the distance for a moment. “Emerson – the Ice Nation had him, did they not? And they surrendered him to you and me as payment for installing…” Lexa’s eyes went wide, and she blinked rapidly, but not enough to keep a single tear from falling as she whispered, “Did I do it? Did I get revenge for Costia? I… I can’t remember all of it, it’s hazy—”

It was the first time in this world that Clarke had seen Lexa even close to being shaken to her core, and she quickly reached out to hold Lexa’s shoulders, gripping firmly, but not harshly, as she whispered, “It’s okay to not always remember.”

Lexa nodded, a bit shakily, as she drew a deep breath. “I admit, this is the first time I have been handed a memory which was—not complete. I am fighting Roan, and just as I stand over him, it becomes hazy – unclear, as though a fog wiped out all the sights and sounds that I could sense.” She regained more of her equanimity and looked Clarke in the eye. “I knew, in a sense, that this would happen, but for it to be about something so important—”

Clarke grinned as she relaxed her grip on Lexa’s shoulders a bit. “You did, Lexa, you did it. You fought Roan, who was Nia’s proxy for a challenge to your rule. You won, and you speared her through the heart instead of Roan.”

Lexa quickly wiped her face as her mouth formed a slow, satisfied, predatory grin. “One day, Clarke. One day, I will do that again and I will remember and I will savor that victory!” Lexa gripped Clarke’s arms, taking strength from her as her lips pressed together in pride – pride for herself in another world in accomplishing the one thing she probably thought she’d never get to do in this one.

Clarke let go of Lexa’s shoulders and pressed a hand to her own chest. “I’d never seen you fight before. You were—” Clarke shook her head, remembering the mixed fear and amazement, her heart nearly in her throat several times that match. “—I just, you were amazing out there.” She lowered her hand and smiled, remembering. “Aden was relieved that you won, I think.”

Lexa’s smile grew fond. “Aden did well until the very end of my reign – of that I can be sure. He actually landed a blow on me at Polis during his training; at least, I have a short memory of it from that other world.”

“Wow,” breathed Clarke. For a teenage boy to show he was becoming just as good as his Heda, his mother figure – that must have been incredible and a bit scary. “I bet he thought you were going to punish him, though.”

Lexa nodded. “He did react that way. I will have to make it clearer to my Natblidas that there is no fear, only pride and honor, in being able to fight me and more than hold their own.” She now wore her usual reserved smile, reminiscing about her charges.

“So it wouldn’t bother you,” wondered Clarke, “if Aden beat you in a fight?”

Lexa shook her head. “It would mean he is clearly ready to take the Spirit when I pass from this world.” She lifted an eyebrow and smirked. “And I would have to improve and increase my own training, of course.”

Clarke chuckled, then grew somber. “Anyway, I think we are safer from the Mountain as long as we keep up this charade of casual hunting and trading. I have been doing a lot of thinking, as have my friends, about how to get into Mount Weather, but it will require disabling the acid fog.” She sighed. “I don’t look forward to dealing with your generals. Quint lost his brother in the battle at the dropship.”

“Quint,” Lexa repeated. “The pauna? We fought that!” Lexa shook her head in amazement. “The things you and I did together!” Lexa looked at Clarke, and somehow was seeing her with new eyes. In a voice tinged with wonder, she said softly, “I have sometimes wondered how I came to see you as an equal, and… now I am beginning to see why.”

“Your generals,” Clarke prompted.

Lexa nodded. “Yes. I am remembering this too. Our argument went in circles and circles. Suggestions all foundered on the need to get inside before we could get inside, in a way. I admit I was skeptical that Bellamy could get in, although he did apparently manage it. It is still far too risky for me to be entirely comfortable with it, even now.”

“I have some ideas this time,” Clarke reassured. “Your troops need practice anyway, especially in sneaking up on the Mountain, so I’m going to suggest that they spread out over the area and pretend to be going after bandits.”

Lexa gestured Clarke up the stairs. “I need to get you to your fellow people soon, Clarke, but we can speak more for a bit.” As they began walking up the stairs, she mused, “We do have a bit of a bandit problem, coincidentally enough coming close to your Ark, even. In the past, Anya and Indra both sent fast messengers to request more gonas for the purpose. It might even seem that my troops might impose themselves on your hospitality at the Ark from time to time as a condition of maintaining the truce.”

As they reached the door, some of the evening light filtered through the weathered glass window, throwing Lexa’s face into sharp relief as she looked at Clarke. Clarke let out a low chuckle. “I don’t know why, but somehow, I find even strategizing with you is still…”

“Endurable?” deadpanned Lexa.

Clarke reached up, the backs of her fingers not quite brushing Lexa’s cheek. Maybe it was the last of the wine in her system, or maybe it was just her need to know Lexa again on a more intimate level. Or—well, she didn’t know, really. But she did know she very much loved Lexa’s mind as well as her body, and she breathed, “More like pretty nice.”

Lexa reached up, then hesitated. Clarke's eyes went to Lexa's hand, and her body stilled as she breathed shallowly, wondering what Lexa would do next.

After a few moments, she gently, tentatively, stroked Clarke’s jaw, sending a frisson of desire down Clarke’s spine and a sudden warmth sparking to life between her legs. Clarke, reciprocating, did brush Lexa’s cheek before lightly cupping her cheek, feeling the other woman’s warmth as she shivered slightly under Clarke’s touch.

The two of them leaned forward at almost the same time, and their lips touched. Clarke opened her mouth a bit, letting Lexa taste her; as Lexa did so, Clarke darted her tongue forward, tasting the bittersweet liquor Lexa had been nursing through the dinner, and the sharp tang of the grapes she had nibbled on as the dinner came to a close. Their kiss grew deeper, and the entire world seemed to fall away as Clarke’s hands fell to Lexa’s hips, tugging her closer as one of Lexa’s hands roamed up and down Clarke’s back, ending up at Clarke’s pants, slowly groping and squeezing her butt, while the other, which had been near her face, travelled down her front to stroke her fingers across Clarke’s nipple as she gently squeezed Clarke’s breast, provoking Clarke’s appreciative moan.

Clarke had no idea how long the kiss lasted until the near-total fading of the sunlight slowly broke in on her consciousness, and she slowed the intensity of her kiss, her breathing heavy as she pulled away, taking in Lexa’s sharp features and her ragged breaths slowly coming under control.

Lexa licked her lips. “Clarke,” she breathed, desire and want and need all overlaid in one simple word.

If they weren't behind a door any gona could open—If they were in Polis right now—Clarke shook herself, pulling herself back from that precipice. She couldn't get carried away, not here, not now.

Clarke held Lexa against herself again for a moment, then whispered, “Lexa, the kiss—”

Lexa’s finger against Clarke’s mouth shushed her. “Do not worry. I am perfectly capable of knowing my own desires, memories or no. Even if not, I think I would still have come to like you in this way, though it would have taken longer.”

And now, Lexa did pull away, her voice and bearing shifting back into ‘Commander’ mode as she said, “Mebi hodnes nou laik kwelnes, but we still cannot afford to let people think I am being swayed unnecessarily by you. We spoke of the war to come and the strategy we will outline tomorrow, in this same room. Agreed?”

Clarke let out a sharp breath, brushing her hands through her hair and making quick adjustments to her shirt. She nodded and said, “You bet.” She turned to the door as Lexa pushed it open and called for a gona to escort her and Clarke to the Sky Peoples’ temporary living quarters.

Chapter Text

Clarke stood at the open door to the squarish building, and swept her eyes over the inside, lit by a few candles that had been provided for the Sky People as well as a single torch mounted in the back. It held ten beds total, five beds lined up along each wall to either side of the door. They looked old but sturdy, while the mattresses (more like sacks or palliasses, really) looked new and freshly stuffed.

Clarke’s mother, seated on a bed opposite Raven’s, looked up and called, “Clarke, quickly! Raven got something just before you came.”

Raven, on the bed in the far left corner, had her secondary radio out and was gently tweaking a dial, bringing a clearer and clearer voice out of the static. Everybody else in the room besides Abby was standing nearby, anxiously peering at her. Raven looked up and nodded, pointing with her free hand at the radio in her lap. “The jamming suddenly lifted! I’m getting a signal on the Arkwide channel; just cleaning it up a bit. I think it’s a repeating message on an auto-transmitter.”

Clarke and Lexa joined the group as Raven spoke.

At that moment, her slight twist of a dial brought the staticky voice into crystal clarity. Octavia’s eyes widened as she gasped. “That’s Jasper!”

“—forty-seven of us are trapped inside Mount Weather—”

The message was essentially the same as the last time Clarke remembered hearing it, and she announced, “This is it. Our proof, if we still needed it.”

Kane, standing against the wall near the torch, nodded. “I think I need to stay for tomorrow with Clarke, but the rest of you, Abby included – you need to get back to the Ark and put everybody on covert war footing as soon as possible.”

Raven packed away her radio and said, “Definitely agreed.” Raven lifted her hand and began ticking off items. “I gotta start building more tone generators, then get with Sinclair and Wick and anybody else we can get, and pretty much start up a munitions factory. We need to make bullets, flashbangs, mortars, Molotov Cocktails – pretty much anything that goes boom.”

“And Abby, have the security forces begin preparing and cleaning all of our guns. I want no live-fire training yet, but every one of our weapons should be in tip-top shape,” Kane added. To Lexa, he said, “If your people could use—”

Lexa snapped, “No.” She seemed to mentally step back, and after a moment, said in a lower voice, “No, Marcus. Please do not ask this of me or my people.”

“Of course; I’m sorry,” said Kane, a rueful expression on his face. “The best we can do, then, is we, the Sky People, can use guns. If we bring them, will your people still fight beside us?”

Lexa nodded. “That is possible. To know that you can use the weapons of the Maunon against them will help. As will the devices Raven says she can make.”

Raven smirked. “Want it to go boom, just ask me.”

“I think we need to be ready in a week,” asserted Kane. “Can we do this?”

“We damn well better be able to at the camp,” said Abby.

As for Lexa, she nodded. Her voice tinged just a bit with pride as she spoke. “My generals, even without Gustus, are capable people. They most recently helped fight a border war with Azgeda, not long before Azgeda joined the Coalition. Azgeda did not take a single piece of Trikru land then.”

“We should head back as early as we can,” called Bellamy from his spot in between Raven’s and Kane’s beds.

Nods all around accompanied that, and Lexa concurred, saying, “A horse and carriage with a gona will be ready for you. If Nyko cannot take you, I will find another driver. I will also send a gona on a separate horse for part of the way.”

Abby stood up and said to Lexa, “Before we go to sleep, I want to thank you for your hospitality, as Chancellor of the Sky People.”

Lexa said, “And I thank you all again for coming here. I spoke to the gona on the way here and while there were apparently minor incidents involving some exchanges of words earlier today while you walked TonDC, you did not escalate the situation. And the dinner itself, of course, went smoothly except for a general I must speak to about his banishment.”

Lexa shifted slightly on her feet, gently bumping her shoulder against Clarke’s for a moment (not, thought Clarke, that that was a bad thing, though she did shift aside a bit to maintain decorum). “I should take my leave of you now, however, so you will be well rested for tomorrow, whether you are leaving or staying. I will make the arrangements when I leave here. You will leave at first light?”

“Yes. I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary, but we do need sleep.” Abby rubbed her eyes and sighed.

“Then Clarke and Marcus of the Sky People, I will take you to our war preparations room tomorrow morning, and as for Lincoln, Bellamy, Octavia, Raven and Chancellor Abby, a horse and carriage will be prepared and a gona will escort you and leave off once you can see your camp,” Lexa said with an air of finality.

Nods all around punctuated her short bow of her head, followed by her sweeping out of the room, all business as she went to handle the numerous items left to take care of before the night was out.

“Good night, everyone,” announced Kane.

Clarke muttered as she took the now-vacant bed opposite Raven, “Not that I think I’ll be able to sleep.”

Chuckles went around the room as the seven people composed themselves for sleep. Clarke, even as Jasper’s message portended the beginnings of war, found herself smiling as she remembered the feeling of Lexa’s lips against her own for the first time in this reality.

And contrary to her expectations, she did fall asleep.

Clarke stood in her room in Polis, looking out the window. She wore the dress she had had on the night she’d formally gained acceptance for the Sky People as the Thirteenth Clan. A knock against the open door made her turn around, and her mood lifted as she saw Lexa. Just then, the light in the room soared in a moment’s blast to painful yellow, then white as it tore through her—

Clarke threw herself upright in her bed, her chest heaving as she checked herself over, reassuring herself she was fine. She let out her panic in a final, slow, controlled wheeze, and swung her feet over the side to get her shoes on—

A sleepy voice muttered, “Hey, Clarke? You’re already awake?”

Clarke jumped, a bit startled. She looked over to her right and saw Raven, in the corner, blinking sleep out of her eyes as she yawned. The torch, still alight, set light flickering about the room. Through the door, Clarke could see it was still dark outside. She gave Raven a hopefully convincing smile and said, “Yeah, I am. How’re you?”

“Could be better,” Raven chuckled. “I was dreaming I was in Niylah’s trading post.”

Clarke lifted an eyebrow. “And?”

Raven pushed herself upright, getting her shoes on and her brace on. She pointed to the door, and Clarke joined her as they stood in the doorway, facing one another. Raven said, “I wanna not wake everybody up just yet.” She leaned in confidentially and said, “Let’s just say I hope she has a bathtub in the back.”

Clarke had to restrain her laughter in sputters through pressed-together lips. When she could trust herself to speak, she said, “So were you giving her a bath or was she giving you one?”

Raven ducked her head for a moment and said, “Well, I probably should keep the exact details to myself, but yeah, there was mutual bathing involved in my dream.”

“You do have it bad, mechanic.”

“Says you, princess,” Raven retorted, gently thumping Clarke’s shoulder. “I think her Commanderness likes you.”

“Okay?” said Clarke, feigning confusion.

Raven rolled her eyes. “You can let me know any time when you two make it official.”

The crunching of gravel alerted Clarke that two gonas, apparently on routine patrol, were walking past the barracks building, and their bearing seemed to carry the definite air of a repeated journey. They must, Clarke decided, be making a circuit of the area to ensure nobody is sneaking around.

The night was now definitely giving way to dawn, as the sky was now a medium blue, foretelling the rise of the sun over the horizon. As if the change in the light had been a signal, the room slowly stirred with the noises of the other five people yawning and shuffling awake.

Clarke’s suspicion of routine patrollers was confirmed when she saw two gonas coming the opposite way to the first two she’d seen, and she called, “Hei. Osir ste ogud.”

One nodded and broke off, apparently to fetch Lexa from wherever she was, as the Sky People leaving would be important enough for her to personally attend.

Indeed, shortly afterwards, a perfectly-dressed Lexa in her Commander regalia (including the red sash) joined them to bid everybody but Kane and Clarke good day. “Before you leave you will be given some food and water as breakfast. I have arranged for your weapons to be returned to you at the TonDC border, and Nyko plus a gona will be waiting with a horse and cart. Another gona on a horse will also go with you for part of the way.”

Abby smiled at Lexa. “Thank you for making these arrangements, Commander. If ever you can come back to the Ark, your hospitality will be returned.”

Lexa inclined her head, acknowledging the words.

At that, goodbyes were exchanged, and Lexa turned to Kane and Clarke. “And now let us get you two some breakfast, and then meet my generals.”

Chapter Text

Raven Reyes jumped off the flatbed cart, called, “Thanks, Nyko!” and shouldered her backpack as she marched into the Ark, flanked by “Byrne” and Lincoln until they reached the round main entrance, after which Lincoln went to go find a quiet place to be in for a while. Once inside her mechanic shop room, Raven grabbed up a walkie and called, “Sinclair?”

The speaker crackled shortly afterward. “You’re back?”

“Yep. Meet me.”

Abby, meanwhile, shrugged out of her bulky security guard’s outfit, heaving a sigh of relief as she let her hair fall to her shoulders. Shortly after, Sinclair, accompanied by Byrne (attired in dark civilian clothes only), entered the shop and greeted Abby. Byrne cracked a small smile as she said, “You look very well for someone in the back of the Ark in a sealed-off room only Jackson has access to, ma’am.”

“And thank you for lending your uniform out. Now you can have it back, and be out and about,” replied Abby with a smile, indicating the neatly-folded outfit plus helmet sitting on Raven’s table. “If anyone asks you about Kane, say he decided to do some more hunting and sent you back, and you met Nyko who offered a ride. Don’t go back outside for a while, though, just in case. Say you were doing crew fitness reports yesterday or something, if anyone asks you later.”

Byrne nodded. “Chancellor.” She briskly swept her uniform off the table and went to go back to her office.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Raven hauled out her radios and announced, “We got a message from the Mountain. The jamming’s lifted and Jasper got a recording through on the Arkwide channel.”

Abby, at the middle of the table between Raven’s far end near her cot, and Sinclair’s end near the door, took in the now-pensive head engineer’s expression. She nodded slowly and declared, “We’re now at war.”

Sinclair nodded slowly and said, “All right. What do we need to do?”

Raven rested her hands on the table and looked at the other two in the room. “Basically, from this point on, everything and everyone in this camp not needed for urgent food production or maintenance is now commandeered for wartime production: tone generators, weapons, explosives, basically if it goes boom, we need to make it.”

“Okay,” said Sinclair. “We haven’t finished scouring the Ark, especially the part that needs to be climbed because it’s vertical. But I can get people on that and any spare parts not immediately needed for maintenance, they’re yours.”

Abby said, “We’ll need an empty room for a munitions factory, well away from the sleeping areas so any damage will be contained. Marcus wants all our guns prepped and cleaned, but no live-fire drills yet. Raven, you’re in charge of production. Sinclair, you’re to coordinate across the different departments. I’m going to hold a meeting of all section heads now and have Jackson pronounce me cured. Sinclair, with me please.”

With that, Raven nodded, then thought for a moment and went to ask Lincoln a difficult question.

A few minutes later…

Lincoln, in a small meeting room with two chairs and a table, sat across from Raven and sighed as he leaned back in his chair. His grimace told her all she needed to know, and she leaned in, pleading softly, “I wouldn’t ask you to do this unless I absolutely had to know, Lincoln. The tone generator needs to be perfect, and I have the base frequency, but – there can be these overtones, and—”

“You need me to listen so you know which ones a Reaper will react to.” Lincoln rubbed his face and looked at the table. “I wish Octavia was here right now.”

To their surprise, Indra had been the “gona” who was to accompany them on a separate horse for part of the way. When asked by Abby, all she had said was, “If the Heda asks it of me, I obey.”

The reason for Indra’s accompaniment became clear – at least, as clear as could be with the laconic Trikru leader – when Octavia had been asked by Indra to stay behind for a while with a small grouping of gonas who were patrolling the woods for bandits.

Bellamy had still been in the middle of considerable and strenuous argument with his sister even as Nyko got the carriage under way again. Raven wasn’t quite sure what Indra saw in Octavia, but the woman wouldn’t have asked unless she had a good reason, and Octavia, having always leaped at any chance to know more about grounders, leapt at this one too.

Raven reached out tentatively. “Lincoln, if there was any other way—”

Lincoln sat up. “There isn’t. And if Indra is asking Octavia to join her, she’s going to be training her for the war. I need to do my part, too.”

Raven gasped. “Are you serious? Octavia?”

Lincoln nodded. “Indra does not suffer fools. If she thought for even a second that Octavia wasn’t worth it, she would have left us at the breakaway point and gone to her bandit patrollers alone.”

Raven let out a low whistle. Octavia struck her as being consistently – and persistently – just as headstrong as her brother, throwing herself into the cause of fitting in with a different people who nonetheless, in the form of Lincoln, had proceeded to accept her more readily than her own ever had.

But for the moment—

She reached for her variable tone generator and said, “Okay. I’m only going to do this once, and then I’ll never ask it of you again. I promise.”

Lincoln nodded and steeled himself. “I’m ready.”

Her hand moved to the dial of the tone generator, and she flicked it on.

Ten minutes later, a pale, gasping Lincoln wheezed, “Is it done?”

Raven stood up, shoved her notebook in her pocket and put the variable tone generator in a small backpack. She walked over to Lincoln’s side of the table and reached out tentatively, slowly placing her hand on his shoulder. He jumped a bit at the sudden contact, then under her touch, he relaxed, his breathing slowing as she clasped his shoulder more firmly. “It’s done, Lincoln. What you did will make the tone generators more effective, I promise.” Raven swallowed, then crouched awkwardly to eye level with Lincoln. “I am so, so sorry,” she croaked. She blinked rapidly as her eyes welled up. She whispered, “What you must think of me!”

Lincoln, his breathing slowing and steadying, shook his head. “No. I know the Ripa is still in my head – that it still seeks the red – but I know in my head and my heart why you did this. You will help stop them in our battle with the Mountain.” Lincoln stood slowly, pulling Raven up to her feet. “The true evil, Raven, is in the ones who made me a Ripa in the first place. Never forget that.”

A somber Raven Reyes, back in her mechanic shop, stared down at her table of overtones and began working out a circuit diagram to create a tone generator with a base 1760 Hertz sawtooth wave, plus 5300, 8800 and 12000 Hertz overtone sawtooth waves.

She could tell herself it was necessary, that it was wartime, but—

She tried to ignore the gnawing at the pit of her stomach, telling herself that at least she still had a conscience to bother her, whereas the Mountain Men had lost theirs.

Octavia Blake glared at the gona in front of her.

Nyko, Raven and Abby had left about an hour before, and of that hour, fifteen minutes had been taken arguing with Bellamy before he grudgingly and rather sulkily stalked off, thirty more getting to the gona encampment, and fifteen enduring the scowling looks as the warriors, male and female alike, wondered why a Sky Person was joining them.

The answer became very obvious when Indra barked some orders in Trigedasleng, and two of them began hand to hand or small arms combat in a large clearing, with more joining in until one warrior was left, a stocky, muscular younger man not too much older than her.

The gona, now in a fighting stance, beckoned. “Are you going to stand there, Skai girl?”

That did it. Octavia hadn’t been sure before, feeling the tug of wanting to prove herself, but now—

Octavia whipped out her sword (which she had taken care to sharpen on the journey back to kill time), and lightly stepped on the balls of her feet, shifting this way and that as she tried to get the man’s measure.

His slight nod of approval at her weapon was so swift she wasn’t sure it had ever happened, but he had a large, wicked-looking hunting knife out in a split second, sizing her up, taking her measure as well.

He lunged in, forcing her to dodge and swipe her sword at him in return, leaving them once again shifting, feinting, testing each others’ defences. Octavia, her breaths coming lightly and quickly, could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears as every minute shift of her opponent seemed to register in her mind almost before she saw it.

He raised his free arm briefly, exposing his side for that moment. Octavia lunged, but her blade was parried by the man opposite her, leading to a swift flurry of metal crashing against metal as she swung her sword, trying to spot an advantage she could use.

She thought she saw another opening, and swiped low at her opponent’s thigh!

Her blade connected for a second, but he shrugged it off and before she could dart back, kicked out, sweeping her feet out from under her.

Octavia slammed to the ground, the wind nearly knocked out of her as she rolled back, leaping to her feet. She tried another lunge, locking her blade up against her opponent’s, straining against his weight trying to push her back, bowl her over—

Too late, she realized his true objective as he seized her wrist, yanked her down, and sent his knee crashing into her ribs!

She let out a loud “Hungh!” as she flew back, her ribs screaming in protest as her back slammed against the ground. Undeterred, she ran back into the fray, heedless of her body insisting that enough was already enough—

Another short flurry of parries later, his fist crashed into her side, and she collapsed, her eyes wide as her lungs burned with her gasps. She gritted her teeth and struggled back to her feet, staggering into a battle-ready stance as she spat, “I’m not done yet.”

“You will be soon, Skai girl,” mocked the warrior as she dodged and weaved, his knife not catching her even as he dodged her swipes of her sword.

Again and again, she tried to land a blow and maybe got one in for every five or ten of his. Even her face was not left unscathed, as her jaw ached from a couple of blows and she was sure he’d nearly broken her nose from another of his punches.

After the seventh or eighth time she ate dirt, she rolled onto her side and saw the man turning his back on her. Anger rose up and she pushed herself to her feet, leaning on her sword as she spat blood and wheezed, “Hey! I’m not done yet!”

He turned, his features showing bafflement. Indra called, “Oblige her, Sykes!”

Octavia’s attempt at a lunge was ungainly and barely merited being called such, and after a few lucky dodges, his foot was like a solid block hitting her stomach, flinging her once more into the dirt, still slightly wet from a short midnight rain.

Her opponent, Sykes, turned his back once more and she could hear him laughing to some of his comrades who had gathered to watch. Octavia’s breaths were more like wheezing gasps at this point, with only her entire concentration and effort keeping her from simply collapsing boneless on the ground.

She grabbed her sword, planted her hands on either side of her, and slowly, tortuously, heaved herself up once more. She staggered forwards and called, “I’m still not fucking done!”

This time, Sykes’s expression was a frown. He stepped forward and swept his arm arrogantly outward, giving Octavia one final chance as she swiftly ducked under it. She smirked as she grabbed the hilt of her sword, lunging in with all her strength as she jabbed the sword butt with both hands into his stomach, sending Sykes staggering back with a brief, “Ugh!”

Octavia stood, her breaths rasping as she said (probably with more recklessness than common sense, she knew), “So was that all you got?”

She didn’t have time to regret it as Sykes’s backhand fist came up, clocking her on her jaw, sending her flying off to the right to collapse once again to the ground. As her body shook from the impact, and she let out a final wheeze of defeat, she blearily saw Indra come up to Sykes and say something to him, before her head rested on the ground and she finally gave in to the quiet peace of unconsciousness.

Some time later…

Cold water on Octavia’s face shocked her awake.

Every part of her body ached, and as she blinked blearily, Indra’s face swam before her.

The noises of the gonas surrounded her, and from the sounds of it, they were packing up and ready to begin patrol, some with their horses and some on foot.

Octavia’s vision cleared, and she saw she was sitting up, her back against a tree. They were in a smaller clearing, some distance away from the warriors. She took an experimental breath, wincing as her ribs protested. She looked up at Indra, then flushed and looked away again.

“You can say it. I did something really fucking stupid and got my ass handed to me for it,” she said thickly as she kept her eyes on the ground in front of her.

“It was reckless, yes,” agreed Indra, crouched before her, setting her water bottle on the ground beside her. “But…”

“But?” Octavia frowned. She looked briefly at Indra.

“You did surprise Sykes towards the end. You may show promise yet,” Indra allowed, her gaze steady on Octavia.

“I… I don’t understand. I—” shame rose within her as she mumbled, “I was arrogant. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You fought like a child, yes. You left every move you made as open to your opponent as if you’d told him yourself. No thought and no discipline.” Indra nodded to herself. “But you never gave up until you could fight no more.”

“What does – what does that mean?” wondered Octavia as she bit her lip briefly and looked at Indra again.

“It means the Heda saw something in you I now see, as well,” Indra admitted. “Part of this was an exercise, suggested by Heda. She thought you might have a strength of spirit greater than even you might realize.”

Octavia felt a lump in her throat as a small kernel of pride sparked to life within her. She frowned and shifted, gasping as her ribs protested. “What do you mean?” she rasped.

“It means, Okteivia kom Skaikru, that if you want to be a warrior, you will be, but you must be guided and trained properly.” Indra shifted slightly to get a better look at Octavia. “Have you been told what a warrior’s second is?”

Octavia nodded, remembering snippets of conversation she’d heard in her time on the Earth. “An apprentice, right?”

“Yes.” Indra took a breath. “I am prepared to ask you to be my second.” She raised a finger. “If you are willing to do what it takes – if you really do want to become a great warrior, I will train you myself.”

Octavia’s breath hitched. She swallowed as pride and nervousness now warred within her. Indra – the leader of all the Tree People – asking her, an outsider, to be … it defied imagination!

“So… what do you get out of it, then?” She frowned and gazed at Indra.

“The first rule of being my second is to never question what I say,” warned Indra.

Octavia paused. She would never, ever have a better chance to become part of Lincoln’s people – to become not just one of them, but one of them in one of their most important, honored positions.

Indra could easily ask any of the fifteen warriors in the camp to be her second and they would take it.

So why her?

Lexa had suggested it, true, but Indra had been the one to decide to see if it was valid. And, Octavia thought, Indra did not seem like the person who would follow that kind of instruction unless she trusted Lexa’s judgement.

If both the Heda and Wocha believed there was something in her that could be awakened—

“Indra kom Trikru, I accept your offer,” Octavia said just as Indra’s face seemed to tighten with impatience.

Indra’s lips curved in what might have been a brief smile. “Then you shall be my second. Go home today. I will come for you tomorrow, and we will begin.” She reached out and helped Octavia struggle to her feet, handing Octavia her sword. “It will be hard work and you will probably curse me in your mind many times before the end, but by the time the war with the Mountain begins, you will be at least a proficient gona.”

Octavia bowed her head slightly, then lifted her head and squared her shoulders, new purpose filling her as she walked alongside Indra back to the clearing.

She got short instructions back to the point where Bellamy had left her, and bade Indra goodbye. As she walked away from the clearing, a small, satisfied smile formed on Octavia’s mouth even as her body ached and pained every step of the way. Her first task as a second would, she thought, be to make it to Camp Jaha without complaining or stopping once.

Even Bellamy’s wide-eyed shock at seeing her some hours after and his fulminating and ranting failed to do more than prompt, “Bellamy, this is my choice and my task which came from me choosing to start a fight I couldn’t finish. Accept it or not, but stay out of my way.”

Eventually, as they came out to the main clearing that led to the gates of Camp Jaha, Bellamy grudgingly and reluctantly ground out something that sounded like, “Fine, do what you want.”

In TonDC, in the same room once used for the dinner celebrating the alliance, the tables were now organized into a large square. Clarke organized the candles into an approximate circle, with an open spot representing the entrance. She then left a circular space all around the candles and placed pieces of wood just outside the circular space.

Lexa stood beside her to her right, and Kane to her left. Around the table were the tall severe-looking generals, all veterans of previous border wars and conflicts, and all eyeing Clarke a bit skeptically.

Moment of truth, Clarke began. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a map of Mount Weather if she needed to refer to it.

On this time around, she would need to offer both a problem and a way to get to the solution, one that satisfied the inherent military mindset of those who commanded the Trikru armies. The rest of the clans had not yet been asked to contribute, and, if Clarke suspected what might happen in Azgeda did happen, some might not even send soldiers this time. That was okay; the Trikru had not let their army get too complacent since the Coalition had formed.

Clarke started speaking, looking at each general in turn, making sure, in particular, not to single out Quint in any way.

“What you see here on this table is a simple representation of the Mountain. The wood here represents the border to the acid fog zone. The candles represent the Mountain itself. The gap here represents one large door at the base of the mountain. Big enough to let all your armies in, but that means only one way in, one way out. So what do you do instead?”

She looked around expectantly.

“If this was a village,” one of the generals replied in a rather bored tone, “I would just take half of my gonas and tell them to make a hole in the back and attack through there.”

Clarke smiled. “Exactly. Even better, the Mountain already has the holes we need: there is a mine tunnel network, which has Reapers.” She lifted a finger. “But we know, first, how to make the same tone generators the Mountain Men use to control the Reapers, and second, how to turn Reapers back into men. We can use both of these to thin the ground ahead of time.

“Another way in is through a parking garage. And there is probably at least one more, since I saw a door that exited directly out onto the surface which I was told, if opened, would kill all of them.” Clarke took a breath. “The point is, there are several ways in and out. We don’t need a large army at only one point to win this. What I propose are several teams of your best warriors and our best fighters. You have more warriors, but we have the people who can use guns as you cannot, and who know how to use the Mountain technology against them. We will use those insertion teams to get control of the complex. Another team will gain control of the dam that gives the Mountain power. Once we know we have control, we can let the rest of your troops in.

“What I ask of you is to get your troops trained and ready, and to choose from among them the best gonas to match up with our people to force entry into the Mountain.”

Lexa now spoke up. “We have been trying to act in ways which keep the Mountain Men from realizing we are posing a threat to them. Remember: the easiest enemy is one who suspects nothing until you reveal yourself at the right time. What you will do is spread your forces out as much as you can near the Sky People’s camp, and tell your men to catch any bandits they find. As there is an actual bandit problem in that area, your men will get practice and have something to do while they also begin training and massing in secret for the real battle ahead of us.

“In addition the best troops you choose will come to the Sky People’s camp from time to time and appear to impose on their hospitality. The Mountain Men are likely convinced of a truce, but not how strong the truce is, or the fact that we actually have an alliance. It will thus not seem strange for my troops to come to the camp occasionally to ‘remind’ them of our power. In reality, your men who will be the ones to join Skaikru’s for the advance insertion teams will receive provisions, maps – small things, but still material necessary to help win the war.”

Marcus spoke up and said, “Also, rest assured that as many of my people as I can make fit for combat will fight alongside you. We will have our guns, yes, but also other things to help against your enemies. We do not plan to stop until the Mountain is defeated.”

Quint spoke up. “Now while I like that the largest army that the Trikru has had is together once more, this small problem of the acid fog holds everything else up. What good is an army if its people can be boiled alive?”

Clarke took a breath and said, “I admit that is the most important, and most crucial, part. That is why a very small, very unimportant-looking team of Sky People alone will break into the Mountain first, unseen. They will make their way to the acid fog machine and damage it, undetectably if possible, detectably otherwise. They will then contact us by radio.”

Lexa finished with, “At that point, the surprise is dropped and we launch the war. We expect this to happen before two sevendays has passed.”

The generals, formerly indifferent, now seemed grudgingly approving. That was easier than it had any right to be, Clarke decided.

Unfortunately, since Lexa’s announcement punctuated the momentary pause in the first war council, it also freed people to begin wandering about. Quint chose that moment to buttonhole Clarke before she went to talk to Marcus and Lexa. Clarke had only a few moments to decide; she settled on remembering that she was Wanheda, and she had faced down far worse than one arrogant general.

As Quint began to talk, his face grew a bit uncertain, probably in reaction to Clarke’s cool gaze. Finally, he said, “My brother died in your ship’s fire.”

Clarke nodded once. “Commander Lexa warned me to expect that at least one of you might have known someone who fought in that battle.” Wanheda, Clarke reminded herself. Slayer, if not by her own hand, of almost a thousand people.

“When I was told of a war council, I expected to find a weakling hiding under the Heda’s shadow.” Quint’s mouth worked. “I think I have been mistaken.”

Clarke inclined her head, and Quint walked away. She let out a short breath, and went to confer with Kane and Lexa for a few moments before the council reconvened for Clarke to explain the layout of the Mount Weather complex, and thus why they needed multiple insertion teams of the best gonas.

And with that, in this world, Clarke and Lexa did not have to fight for their lives against a very large, very angry pauna, and the beast in question happily ended up meandering a few miles northward, taking it further away from routes often travelled through that part of the Trikru lands.

Chapter Text

“—so, to summarize, there are over three hundred people in the Mountain, probably all trained in at least how to point and shoot a gun, of which we have some allies. Our first task is to take over the Mountain, our second to capture their leaders, and our third to get our, and your, people out of there. To do that, your best gonas need to be selected, and we need to get as much war equipment ready to go. Those of your gonas who come to our camp will be given maps or supplies, or both. We have at most two weeks to get ready. Apart, we won’t win. Together, the Mountain will fall.”

Clarke had helped draw a larger version of the map folded in her pocket, and had been pointing to it as she outlined the basic plan: the insertion groups (to be selected) would take control of each level of Mount Weather and then expand their control through each level, sweeping it clear of opponents. An advance team of Sky People would themselves handle the risk of the acid fog generator, while a combined Reaper clearing team would try to capture at least some of the Reapers and take them to the drop ship where Dr. Jackson would cure them (or at least keep them under control).

None of the generals raised any objections, and Lexa called, “Dula yo dula. Oso ste odon hir.”

And with that, the first war council officially broke up, and Lexa turned to Kane and Clarke. “I will set up a movable headquarters that looks more like a small bandit-raiding party than a Heda’s formal travelling party. Once I set myself up closer to your camp – but still well-hidden in the trees – I will send a scout with a message for you.”

Clarke nodded. “Thanks. Stay safe, Commander.”

“Likewise,” said Kane. He smiled. “This is a momentous thing. Skaikru en Trikru – ogeda.”

Lexa favored Marcus with a minute smile. “I see Clarke and Octavia are not the only ones to have begun learning Trigedasleng.”

Marcus nodded. “One of your warriors here was kind enough to put up with numerous questions from me yesterday while we waited for Clarke and Raven. If our people are to work together we need to learn about each other as well.”

“A wise statement,” agreed Lexa. “In any case, we should get you both horses and a gona. You should stop at a trail far enough from your camp, and walk from there to avoid alerting the observer who is almost certainly still there,” Lexa noted.

Kane grimaced. “We need to do something about that person.”

Clarke grinned. “When the time is right. If we do it correctly I think we’ve just found our Trojan horse.”

With that, Clarke and Kane were taken to get a quick crash course in how to mount a horse, and sent with a soldier to take one of the more covered routes back to Camp Jaha after retrieving their weapons.

Lincoln and Octavia sat on her bed in her quarters after she’d been released from Medical; she had needed stitches on her face, but for some of the cuts she’d gotten, it was too late. The one high on her cheekbone would leave a scar.

Not that she was unhappy about that; it would be her first real battle scar, a reminder to her every time she looked in the mirror that arrogance and rashness had no place in becoming a fighter.

Lincoln took her hand and murmured, “So Indra took you as her second?”

Octavia beamed even as her body protested in turning to look at Lincoln. “Yes, she did! How did you know?”

Lincoln smiled. “Indra never does anything without knowing exactly why. She obviously saw something in you she wanted you to get better at.” He gently brushed some stray hairs away from her face and said, “I could never be a gona, but it seems you take to it naturally.”

He wrapped an arm around Octavia, pulling her closer as he gently rubbed her back. She leaned in against him, taking comfort from his strength. She felt his chest rumble as he spoke. “I have wanted to be a healer instead of a warrior ever since I found a man who had fallen from the sky in a small metal vessel, and I could not understand him, nor could he understand me. When I tried to get my father to help, he made me kill the man instead.” Lincoln rested his chin on top of Octavia’s head.

She murmured, “Bellamy told me about things like that. Stories of suicide by earth if you could get to an escape pod.”

Lincoln sighed. “It feels like the world has been trying to turn me into a monster ever since that day. Even now, the red still calls to me.”

Octavia sat up and took Lincoln by his shoulders. “Well, I say you’re not a monster, Lincoln. And we will get through this together, okay? So please, whatever you’re feeling, always talk to me. Don’t leave me out.” She pressed a short kiss to his cheek and said in a soft voice, “Promise?”

Lincoln leaned in and kissed her forehead, then rested his forehead against hers, his eyes holding hers in a warm gaze. “I promise.”

As luck had it, Raven Reyes had had the good sense to keep her Mountain-spying radio and her Ark-wide radio on low 24 hours a day. Luckily, the Ark specialized in making and maintaining long-term storage batteries that would not need replacing for years at a time. In addition, one of the solar panels had come with Alpha Station and remained intact through the landing, providing an external source of power for any rechargeable batteries if need be.

All this meant she hadn’t been too concerned about having them on, especially as the Mountain messages were also continuously recorded for later analysis, but what she’d picked up had been status reports and shift changes. They hadn’t even made much of the fact that she’d rolled on up in a horse and cart, either.

But the night she came back from TonDC, she heard a tinny woman’s voice interrupt Jasper’s continuously repeating signal as she worked on building her first production tone generator from available parts.

Her hand snapped out to the radio controls, turning the volume up. “—This is Maya Vie, calling anyone listening on this channel. Please respond, urgently!”

Raven grabbed up her mike and barked into it, “This is Raven Reyes from the Ark. What’s wrong?” She grabbed her walkie, paused for a moment, and remembered the right code. She said, “Sinclair, I found some spiked flowers someone left in the mechanic shop. I'll need some help.”

A relieved gasp sounded through the radio. “Thank god! Listen, we’re starting to get worried about one of Jasper’s friends.”

“Wait, wait a sec,” Raven said. She tried to remember what Clarke had said in passing in her rundown of the personnel she knew from Mount Weather. “You’re the girl Jasper wouldn’t shut up about, right? Tall, dark-haired, beautiful?”

A half-choked laugh came over the radio. “I wouldn’t say tall, but… I do have dark hair and I guess Jasper seems to think I’m beautiful enough to kiss.” Maya’s voice grew low and somber. “Listen, this is a long shot, but I want to ask if you’ve seen a girl named Harper show up at your, uh, Ark.”

“That is absolutely a negative, Maya. I’m sorry.” Raven knew if anyone else had escaped from the Ark and made it, it would’ve been a huge damn deal at Camp Jaha.

At that moment, the doors burst open, letting Sinclair plus Kane, Abby and Clarke into the mechanic shop. Sinclair caught his breath and said, “I caught your code for an unusual event; hope I brought the right people.”

Raven nodded to Sinclair. Clarke, her hair still dishevelled from flopping around as she ran, wheezed, “What is it? What’s going on?”

Raven replied as she held up the mike. “This is Maya Vie, from Mount Weather. She got on Jasper’s broadcast radio.”

Clarke made a ‘gimme’ motion with her hand as she came around the table to stand next to Raven, seated near the radio. “Maya, this is Clarke Griffin.”

“Clarke?” Maya’s voice rose, unbelieving. “You made it! Jasper will at least be happy about that. We can’t find his friend Harper, a blonde girl, I think?”

Clarke nodded. “Have you been able to locate her in the cages?”

“N-no, and that’s worrying me. I don’t know where else she could be, but she’s not in the dorms.” Maya gulped. “I came to find you as soon as I could find a reason to get into the art room. Monty told us yesterday he managed to sneak into the control room and lift the jamming for your frequency only, but I don’t know how much longer before a routine status check finds his modifications to the control program.”

Clarke continued speaking in calm, even tones. “Maya, I need to know a few things. Are my friends already giving their blood for helping treat your radiation sickness cases?”

“Yes. But Jasper volunteered, and he got some of his friends to help him too, which is why Harper’s disappearance is worrying me as well as her friends.”

Clarke’s eyebrows went up for a moment before she said, “Okay. Is Dante Wallace still President?”

Raven’s surprised look was not the only one in the room as everybody’s eyes went to Clarke. Off the radio, she explained, “Dante mentioned a son briefly, named Cage, but nobody really saw him when I was there. The Presidential office is hereditary now, and his son might’ve gotten tired of waiting for his dad.”

Maya was equally surprised. “Um, yes, as far as I’m aware. In fact, I just reported to his office this morning for a routine meeting about the decon protocols in the medlab.”

“What does his son look like? Do you know?” asked Clarke.

“Skinny, black-haired – usually wears a blue suit and has a bit of a twist to his lips. Cage always has this look on his face like he’s calculating something when I see him, which isn’t often.” Maya paused and fairly whispered, “Clarke, are you seriously considering—?”

“We have to be prepared for all contingencies, Maya,” Clarke replied.

A rather pat answer, thought Raven, but hey, that’s Clarke. Our smooth babe of a leader.

(Or at least, after Niylah.)

Clarke’s stance shifted and her expression grew earnest. “Maya, while I’ve got you on the radio, I need you to know that we are mounting an expedition to get our people and those Grounders out of the mountain. Are you with me on this, every step of the way? No matter what?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. My father is part of a small group of us who …” Maya sighed. “My mother was, too. We know the bleeding is wrong. We try to take as little of it as possible. I would rather not do it at all. So yes, I’ll help. Maybe you know a way we don’t.”

“How can we get someone inside Mount Weather who can move around undetected? You know the acid fog will be used against any expedition we mount to get my friends back, so we need to send someone in to disable it first, if you can’t get into the production area.”

“There is one way,” Maya replied, “But your friend may not like it. I can try to sneak him or her through the decontamination area where the harvested people are. That person needs to be decontaminated anyway or every radiation alarm goes off in the complex.”

Before Clarke could reply, Kane grimaced. “That means whoever we send can only carry a tone generator, and that’ll need to be stored somewhere unobtrusive. And they’ll have to go through the tunnels.”

Clarke pressed the button and said, “Give us a day and a half. Tomorrow past midnight, we’ll try to have someone come to the decon entry area. What excuse can you give to be there that late? You must have internal surveillance.”

“We do have cameras, yes.” Maya paused. “I know how to avoid them, or at least be less conspicuous. Plus, I may be able to set off a radiation alarm on the control-room level, distracting people long enough to get your friend out of decon and into the complex itself. My father may be able to help after that.”

“All right. You let us worry about getting our person there on time. Not tonight midnight, but tomorrow midnight,” Clarke reminded her.

“Okay. I have to go, but I’ll report back if anything changes,” Maya replied.

Clarke set the radio microphone down and heaved a sigh, wiping her brow as well. She tapped the table, her jaw clenched as she thought.

Abby leaned against the table. “So now what? Who can we send on such short notice?”

“Bellamy,” decided Clarke. “He goes in, checks in with Maya, gets any additional info from us at the radio, then hides out and disables the acid fog however he can. Maya mentioned a small resistance network: maybe they know ways in and out we don’t know.”

Kane said, “We’ll need to outfit Bellamy with material that the Reapers would miss the significance of. He’ll need a parachute or something to safely keep the acid fog from touching him – which he needs to get rid of once he gets into the tunnels – and he’ll need a tone generator. His clothes will need to be cleaned or disposed in decon, and his equipment, discarded or hidden.”

Raven groaned. “I don’t like the idea of making one of these things only to lose it. Can’t he stash it in the tunnel somewhere?”

“It’s a possibility,” Clarke reassured Raven, putting her hand on Raven’s shoulder for a moment. “The tunnels are not well-lit.”

“Plus,” Kane noted, “All this depends on Bellamy agreeing to be our inside man.”

Chapter Text

The meeting broke up while Clarke went to fetch Bellamy, and she found him helping Wick bring supplies into the former mess hall of the Ark. The tables now teemed, not with food, but with as much manner of metal and materiel that people could find that might be used to make a flashbang, an impromptu shrapnel grenade, anything that, as Raven put it, “would go boom”.

After Clarke brought Bellamy back to the mechanic shop, she went to a clear plotting board Raven had managed to set up in the ten or fifteen minutes she’d been away. Meanwhile, Kane, Abby and Sinclair had helped moved some of the shelves back more to create more space. The table now no longer took up the exact center of the room, now pushed off to one side to create a couple of meters of space to the table’s right as one faced the room’s doors from the inside.

At the plotting board, Clarke hastily drew a map of the inside of Mount Weather, talking rapidly as she went, diagramming the tunnel entry points and the inner decontamination chambers (which had been easy, since she had had plenty of time to mentally go over the much-nicer version of the plans she and Raven had drawn in that other world), along with other features of the building that she thought she could explain as being due to her exploration of the complex.

(During the conversation with Maya, she also remembered for sure she’d found out the parking garage directly connected to the elevators, but Bellamy couldn’t go in that way or he’d set off all the radiation monitors. Luckily Maya had herself supplied the entry point.)

Bellamy lifted his hand. “Whoa. You’re drawing a map and babbling about this and that in Mount Weather. Back up. You want me to do something, right?”

Clarke nodded and recapped her pen, giving herself a moment before she stopped to take it from the top, properly. “We want you to infiltrate Mount Weather and disable their acid fog machine.”

Bellamy stared at her for a few moments, then his face slowly cracked into a grin as he pointed and chuckled. “There’s a good one, Princess!”

Abby, resting back against the table, leaned forward, her arms folded. “This is, unfortunately, not a joke, Bellamy. We need your help in a critical first strike at the Mountain.”

Bellamy blinked, his expression reverting to sober impassivity. “Okayyyyy. I’ll hear it out, I guess.”

Clarke nodded, took a breath and began reviewing her plan. “We want you to go into the tunnel network with a tone generator Raven has built. It’s small, fairly compact. You disable any Reapers as you go, and find your way here by tomorrow at midnight—” Clarke pointed at a slight uphill climb to the main intake tunnel where people were decontaminated. Bellamy had never said much about it over the radio when he had contacted her every three hours the first time around, or on the long walk back from Mount Weather, but from what little she’d gleaned, it was on the order of being forcibly purged inside and out.

(A memory hazily rose in her mind – something about Octavia finding Lincoln having become a Reaper again… he could only have done that if Lincoln had deviated from the deliver-Bellamy plan the last time. But that was irrelevant now.)

She kept talking. “Maya Vie, our contact on the inside, will meet you at the doors, probably wearing a radiation suit. She’s a black-haired girl who’s a bit shorter than me. You’ll need to decontaminate yourself, hide anything you came with, and then get fresh clothes. She says she can help. Once you at least superficially resemble a Mount Weather citizen, we need you to go make contact with her father. He’s part of a small resistance network – although they haven’t really done much resisting.”

Bellamy let out a harsh snicker as he rolled his eyes. “Kind of hard to resist when you’ll die if you don’t take any blood from anyone.” At Clarke’s sharp look, his face and expression reverted back to calm detachment.

“There are some preliminaries. First—Sinclair, you’re waving your hand. You have something?”

The older man nodded at the two radios in front of him. “Raven and I prototyped a couple of encrypted radios with the strongest possible encryption schemes. We haven’t been able to test them, as any signals on the Arkwide frequency of considerable strength may alert our friends to what we’re doing. I'm amazed they haven't yet discovered the jamming is no longer operative on that one channel, but we are mainly receiving rather than actively transmitting.”

Clarke added, “Okay, Bellamy—you take one.” Her mind worked as she rapidly tried to assess how this new information would help or hurt her plans.

She nodded to herself and looked at Bellamy again. “Get Maya to infiltrate you into the Art Room. If she can’t do it, the resistance network may know ways around that don’t involve the main corridors. Find Jasper’s radio and patch this one in place of it. Set it to the proper encrypted channel and report in every twelve hours, oftener if possible.”

It had been every three hours the last time, and Clarke couldn’t help but wonder if making Bellamy go back and forth so often to the radio might have been more dangerous than she realized at the time. At least this way, Bellamy could hole up somewhere and sleep every second shift.

Raven piped up, “You could locally patch that radio to a private comm system, but the danger is that transmission will be in the clear within Mount Weather. Any of their radios might pick it up.”

“So you can’t go mobile with communications,” said Clarke, her shoulders slumping. “Unless Jasper or Monty can whip something up for you.”

“Bellamy should make contact with the kids anyway,” noted Kane.

“Right, that was the second thing,” chimed in Clarke. “The first thing is that you need to lay low as much as you can and make sure your entry was not seen. They have cameras in that complex and everybody kind of knows everybody. You’ll stand out if you’re not careful.

“As for our friends, at least try to get eyes on them. The dormitory has two double doors with glass windows. Try to make eye contact if nothing else.”

Bellamy’s arms were still crossed, his expression still almost stern as he heard Clarke out.

Clarke thought again about Maya telling her that Jasper and some other people had volunteered to donate blood. Cage Wallace must have accelerated the timetable, Clarke decided before she spoke.

She heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s a virtual certainty at this point that since they have Harper, they know about the bone marrow. There is no other reason for her to have disappeared, since Maya basically implied our friends were asked, not forced, to donate blood. That also means you need to watch out for Cage Wallace and his lackeys. Maya described him to us and I’ll check with Lincoln if he remembers ever seeing him.”

Abby frowned. “Why are you so concerned about this man, Clarke? He’s not the President.”

Because he’s a murdering, evil bastard! Clarke wanted to scream. She gritted her teeth and forced reason and calm upon herself as she spoke.

“But he might just be counting on the bone marrow being his ticket to the office – and getting three hundred-plus grateful people worshipping him for the rest of his life. If his father ever gets an attack of conscience and lets our friends go, Cage will likely stop him, because there is no way that guy would, to steal your phrasing, Kane, let his ‘golden goose’ go. Mom, you said it yourself: the Mountain Men have people with no medical ethics or any kind of ethics. Not a hundred percent of them – Maya proves that – but the wrong people are in power there and we need to stop them.”

Clarke nearly vibrated with the need to tell them all – tell them of the ultimate horrifying consequences, that possibly before the week was out, three more people would die and the war would end in the clunk of a lever consigning three hundred-plus people to their deaths.

She had already nearly given the game away asking if Dante was still the President, but she’d been quick enough on the ball to explain that slip.

She drove on. “Bellamy, this may not be easily doable but if you can, before you disable the acid fog machine, try to find a way to disable any missiles they have. Now I realize they may not have any; I couldn’t explore that part of the complex, so it is entirely possible the firing is done by remote control and they have no actual access to the missile or missiles.” Clarke ran her hand through her hair and chewed her lip for a moment before continuing. “But missiles or not, if after, let’s say, twenty-four hours you haven’t been able to take care of them, get to the acid fog machine. We need to get in there in a limited time window, and once we are close to the mountain any missiles would damage the complex.”

“Now, when you’re ready to disable the acid fog machine, that will be your last check-in. From then on you go radio silent except for emergencies, and you are on your own for what to do next. Get out if you can, or stay if it’s safe. As for the fog, we will know, because we’ll be constantly monitoring their near-site comms. An outside observer will probably find some hunters getting too close, or one of Lexa’s bandit-chasing teams might accidentally get in. When that happens they’ll try to raise their ‘veil’, and it will fail.” Clarke took a deep breath and said, “At that point, the war is on for real. The covert insertion teams and Reaper snatch teams will go live, and with all the luck going our way, we will have control of the Mountain.”

“So, will you do it, Bellamy?” Clarke held her hand out to shake. “Will you help us win the war?”

Bellamy let his hands fall to his side. He looked around at each person in the room – Raven, seated on a stool at the end of the plotting board stand; Abby, leaning back against the table; Kane, standing ramrod straight next to her; Sinclair, at the end of the table near his radios.

Slowly, he nodded and extended his hand, clasping her own. She returned his grip, surprised at how warm – and oddly gentle – his hand felt this time. They shook hands once, and let go. Clarke smiled broadly at Bellamy. “Thanks. We wouldn’t be able to do this without you, you know.”

Chapter Text

Clarke spent the rest of the night cleaning up her hastily-drawn map, showing in detail the rooms on each level and explaining to Bellamy what was where, making sure he knew where the important rooms were. Raven, on her end of things, got together a small kit for Bellamy which included a tone generator similar in design to the Mountain’s, one of her special converted flashlights and the special radio.

Meanwhile, Sinclair, Kane and Abby resumed their duties, with Sinclair going to hunt down anything electrical that could be used to build explosives timers, and Kane helping clean and prep the firearms while Abby handled the inevitable complaints and friction that came from having to covertly arm the Ark and thus take supplies away from people who would otherwise be using them for farming or related purposes.

“I would be very careful about messing with their computer systems,” noted Clarke. Bellamy had, in passing on the eight-hour trek back to the Ark, debriefed her on what went down in his time in the Mountain. One thing she recalled him mentioning was that they had fooled him about the acid fog pH meter.

Raven, looking up from the tone generator which she was doing some final checks on, called out, “Yeah, good point. If they have any networking or even if someone does a routine check they can undo what you do. Better to disable it mechanically. Like, damage a critical valve or something. Even better if it looks like an end-of-life failure.”

Bellamy nodded, his look of concentration not slackening once as Clarke then turned to some other aspects of the way the Mountain’s access control systems worked, then reminding him to also try to use natural moonlight whenever possible and avoid alerting anyone to his presence on his way there.

After Clarke finished taking Bellamy through his paces, she looked him in the eye and said, “There is one final important thing you need to know. No matter what they ask you in the Mountain, you are not empowered to negotiate terms of amnesty. You promise nothing. Got it?”

Bellamy frowned, but acquiesced.

“We haven’t even talked about any of that yet among ourselves,” Clarke noted. “And we have to consult the Grounders anyway.”

For her part, she decided only Maya and her father were a hundred percent guaranteed to be allowed a bone marrow donation and exemption from any crimes against humanity trials. The problem, she knew, was that if Bellamy even hinted at what terms would be dictated after the war, everybody who Maya and her dad couldn’t personally vouch for would still be clamoring that they’d done their part and resisted in some way.

Raven snorted. “Octavia’d say ‘float ‘em’. She doesn’t talk about it a lot, but ever since Clarke’s mom figured out how they make Reapers with that freaky programming she’s been pissed at what they did to Lincoln.”

Clarke sighed. “That’s for another day. It’s getting late.” To Bellamy, she said, “You need to leave after sunset tomorrow. Any outside observer who sees you must not be able to see your face. Keep to the tree cover. Be on the lookout for acid fog and use a parachute to cover yourself up if it hits.”

Bellamy nodded, took the kit from Raven and a spare tunnel map from Clarke, and left the room. Clarke stayed behind to examine her map on the plotting board and add any last-minute refinements she could remember. She marvelled that the other world, Lincoln and Bellamy had somehow managed to get to the mountain, unprotected and in broad daylight no less.

If they have outside observers, how many cameras do they have on the outside, too? wondered Clarke. In that other world, she had been counting on any external surveillance to make the Mountain’s leaders believe they only intended to attack through that door. But it had easily given the Mountain Men the information they needed to successfully implement Dante’s gambit of negotiating a separate peace, since they had to have seen Clarke and Lexa in front. Emerson’s tactic of drawing off Lexa’s small detachment had been a textbook trap disguising his real purpose – and what did it matter to him if he killed a few Grounders anyway?

At least, Clarke decided, Bellamy understood the importance of being cautious enough to not call attention to himself. If they have cameras on the tunnels they may not think him enough of a threat to do more than send a few Reapers after him, and if he’s careful he can use the tone generator without alerting them.

Clarke called, “Good night, Raven.”

Raven waved goodnight back, after which Clarke left and went to her quarters to try and get some sleep.

For whatever reason that night, Clarke didn’t dream at all after she lay in bed, letting herself slip away from the conscious world.

One moment, unconsciousness—

The next, her eyes snapped wide open and she jerked upright in her bed. She let the wave of dizziness pass, then carefully swung her legs around to put her feet on the floor and get up to start her morning routine.

After getting dressed, Clarke bumped into Octavia, who wore a look of determined anticipation, and sported numerous facial bruises she hadn’t had back in TonDC. She was dressed in full battle gear as well. Right, Clarke realized. Indra must have made her a second again.

Just in case, though, she put on a cheery grin and said, “Hey. What’s going on?”

Octavia nodded at her, not slackening her swift pace. “Gonna do some morning running. Indra says she’ll be coming today for me.”

Clarke, matching Octavia’s pace as they fairly marched down the corridor, raised her eyebrows. “Indra? Coming for you specifically?”

“Yes.” Octavia permitted herself a small smile. “She made me her second, and I’m not gonna let her down.”

“Looks like you got kind of a tough introduction,” Clarke ventured, gesturing vaguely at her own face to signify the bruises and cuts on Octavia’s.

By now, they were exiting to the outside. The star-lit twilight sky heralded a clear and cold morning to come. A light wind ruffled Clarke’s hair as she ambled alongside Octavia, who said, “That’s the first and last time I ever start a fight I can’t finish.” She stopped Clarke for a moment and nearly whispered, “Did you know Lexa told Indra to see if I should be her second?”

Clarke’s eyebrows went up. Lexa had remembered that?!

Octavia, misinterpreting Clarke’s expression, nodded in wide-eyed amazement. “They both believed in me, Clarke. I really need to prove I’m worthy of it – that I’m not just this dumb reckless Sky girl, you know?”

“For sure,” agreed Clarke. She looked around, noticing she could already make out the ground around her and the forest in the distance. Almost nobody was outside except for the security guards patrolling the camp perimeter fence. “So what do we do first?”

“C’mon.” Octavia tugged at Clarke’s elbow, and they began an easy, loping run that took them around the camp’s open grounds. As time passed and the day brightened, they began to speed up, their feet beginning to pound on the ground as they kept neck and neck with each other.

Clarke’s lungs burned as she heaved a hearty sigh and shifted on her chair, opposite Octavia outside the still in the gathering dawn. It was hard to mentally compare to the strength she’d gathered in her months outside of Arkadia (having to do a lot of walking and hunting had naturally improved Clarke’s fitness), but she judged that she was at maybe seventy-five percent compared to then. The month on the ground had already helped, of course, but she needed to regain the strength that accompanied her learned reflexes fighting and dodging very dangerous animals.

Octavia wasn’t breathing quite as heavily as she sipped at her water bottle. After recapping it, she handed it to Clarke and smirked. “I’ve been doing this for a few days now – you gotta keep up, Clarke!”

Clarke rolled her eyes and grinned, taking the water bottle and gulping down some of the water before handing it back to the other girl. The cool water was welcome, and the parched feeling in Clarke’s mouth receded. She said, “So what’s next?”

“Usually I do like, sword lunges and handstands and stuff. My technique’s probably total crap, but I’ve seen a bit of what the warriors do and Lincoln’s not bad himself, even if he says he doesn’t like the whole be-a-warrior thing.”

“Neat.” Clarke snapped her fingers. “Hey. Just remembered something. I need to get a few maps and give them to you to hand out to Indra’s chosen troops. We’re going to enter the Reaper tunnels and try to fan out through all of them, partly to grab all the Reapers we can and partly so if one group gets held up the rest of us can still make it. We’re also going to make small packages of stuff they can use, like smoke bombs, flashbangs, stuff like that. Raven’s going to show me how to use them and when I go see Lexa I can teach the grounder troops how to use them.”

Octavia grinned. “Cool.”

Clarke, remembering her insertion-team plans, said, “Also, now that you’re Indra’s second, you’ll be with me, Lexa and Indra on the first wave going into the Mountain.”

Octavia sat up, baring her teeth in a feral grin as she made a fist. “Yes!”

“But hey,” Clarke leaned forward and spoke in earnest. “Listen. You need to be in control, okay? I know you want to kill them for what they did to Lincoln. I get that. But this is only gonna work if you keep your head.”

Octavia frowned slightly. “I already learned that lesson, all right?” She pointed at the scar on her cheekbone. “You see this? Every morning I’ll wake up and see this in the mirror, and I’ll remind myself that if I start a fight, I’ll finish it. So don’t baby me, Clarke.”

Clarke leaned back in her chair and sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Sorry. I just – I don’t want to lose you or anyone else to this war. Okay?” She gave Octavia a pleading look. If only I could tell her what it had cost her in that other world to be in love with Lincoln – to have to be torn between her love for him and her love for Bellamy…

Octavia lowered her gaze and brushed her hand across the table, a contemplative look crossing her features as she seemed to ruminate. Lincoln was probably on her mind, Clarke thought, as one of the early casualties of the Ark versus Mountain war.

“Anyway,” said Clarke deliberately, “Let me go get you that stuff. Back in a few minutes.”

Octavia stood up as Clarke rose as well. She pointed to one of the large clearings in the camp yard. “I’ll be in the open area, doing some sword drills.”

It was a matter of a few moments to swing by the weapons production hall to greet Raven and Wick, then get a small bag containing a few smoke bombs and other odds and ends. Raven grinned. “They’re all really simple. They’ll have a fuse at one end you light up, and then you throw the thing and it goes boom. The round ones are smoke bombs and the rectangular ones are small flashbangs. We’re coming up with new things all the time, so consider these a small down payment for the troops.”

After that, Clarke swung by her room to deposit the ordinance in her locker and fetch some more hand-drawn Reaper tunnel maps, which she reminded herself to double-check with Lincoln later that day. For the time being, however, they would do, since the first groups should be crack troops capable of clearing the major arteries, which she definitely knew led to the decon and harvest chambers. She stuffed them in her pocket and went back to find Octavia, who was whirling about in a carefully elegant combination of lunges and sweeps as she swung her sword, pausing when she saw Clarke approaching her.

After Clarke quickly drew some arrows along the different paths each team should take and handed the maps to Octavia, some loud voices by the gate halted any further conversation; others who had started filtering out of the Ark also moved towards the gate. Once Clarke got a clear view, she nearly grinned. A horse-drawn cart, bearing Nyko and Indra, had drawn near, coming to a halt a few meters away from the gate. She looked to her left as she began walking, and saw that Octavia had quickly schooled her face into expressionlessness as the latter came along with her, matching Clarke’s pace. Octavia tugged at her coat and shrugged her shoulders to settle her sword a bit more comfortably against her back.

At the gate, Clarke nodded at one of the security guards. “Open it. I vouch for them.”

When the man hesitated, Clarke frowned and looked around, remembering she hadn’t really noticed David Miller before. She quickly spotted him and called, “Come on, David. Help me out here!”

The older man approached and said, “You know what Byrne and Kane both said about Clarke. Now do what she says and get that gate open!”

Finally, the gate was opened, and Indra called, “Okteivia kom Skaikru, gyon op.”

Octavia couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face, but managed to collect herself to respond evenly, “Wocha Indra, ai kom.”

Clarke stepped out with Octavia, and a short distance from the cart she embraced Octavia briefly, then stepped back to look at Indra and Lincoln as Octavia hopped onto the back of the wagon. Nyko nodded at Clarke and said, “We have also come for Finn. We will be sending him to Floudonkru to bring fish back for us – the arrangements have already been made. One of our usual travelling gonas will go with him and the two of them will haul the fish back. He will likely be gone one moon cycle – enough time to catch and salt enough fish.”

Clarke nodded. “Okay. Let me go find him.”

Nyko acknowledged that with a firm nod, and Indra settled back just a bit in her seat. Clarke turned to go back along the main pathway into the Ark proper. As she walked the corridors, she tried to find any remnant of the original intense sense of loss she’d felt for him; even knowing he wasn’t going to be gone permanently, she still couldn’t muster more than a sense of vague concern. The months since then – the intensity of her short relived relationship with Lexa – the renewed spark between her and this world’s Lexa – all had pushed those feelings into the background, into a world of almost-never-had-been.

At the door to Finn’s shared quarters, she saw him partly dressed already and in the process of getting his shirt on. As he tugged his shirt down, then brushed his hair out of his face, he looked at her, then did a double take; something in her expression must have given her away. Finn frowned. “Today’s the day?”

Clarke nodded and muttered, “Yeah. Nyko will take you to be met by one of Indra’s soldiers, and they’re going to send you to a group called Floudonkru – the Boat People. They catch fish, and the Trikru, I guess, trade them for it. You’ll help prepare the fish for Nyko’s village, and come back in about a month.”

Finn’s eyes bugged out. “A month?! I thought it was gonna be like, just a few days or something.” He stepped back, his movements uncertain as he looked around, instinctively trying to seek out an escape route.

Clarke stepped forward and snapped, “Damn it, Finn! You knew there would be consequences. On the Ark you know you’d have been floated for destroying food. Grow up and deal with it, because we don’t control how their system works – just consider yourself lucky you’ll come back in one piece, all right?”

“Okay!” Finn ran his hands through his hair and muttered, “Okay, geez! All right, just – just give me a sec.” He paced back and forth in the small room, reminding Clarke somehow of the time in the underground bunker after Charlotte had killed herself, when he'd begun losing control and lashing out, smashing the tables and equipment in it. Thankfully, all he did on this occasion was pace a few more times before stopping and turning to her.

Finn, still with a bit of a mulish expression on his face, grumbled, “Lemme get my coat on.” And so saying, he went to the locker in his room and shrugged into his well-worn black coat. He muttered, “Guess I don’t have a lot of choice about clothes.”

As Finn slowly walked out of the room, Clarke fell into step with him and replied, “I’m sure they’ll give you some. Lincoln said he knows someone there, and we know he wouldn’t deal with them if they weren’t nice people, right?”

Actually, reflected Clarke, she knew next to nothing about the Boat People and for all she knew their leader might end up treating Finn like a waste of space. Still, at least he was alive, and that victory would be one she would be counting for quite a while. The two fell silent as they went through the corridors, barely acknowledging the other people beginning to bustle about to and fro as they either aided with weapons production or went to join scavenging details for electrical parts.

Clarke and Finn found her mother and Kane outside, moving towards the gate to greet Indra and Nyko. Clarke tugged Finn along, increasing her stride to eat up the distance between her and them. They caught up about halfway to the gate and Clarke announced, somewhat out of breath, “Hey. They want Finn. He’s going to be gone for about a month.”

Abby and Kane both blinked at this news, then turned to look at Finn. “Are you ready for this?” she asked.

Finn grimaced. “I sort of knew it was coming, but … well, not exactly a lot of warning for this.”

Kane sighed and rubbed his forehead. “We should outfit you for this trip, Finn.”

Finn shook his head. “It’s not a pleasure trip they’re taking me on. They might take it all away from me or something.”

A cold gust blasted against Clarke’s face momentarily, and she shifted to let it push her hair out of her face. She spread her hands and said, “He’s probably right. I mean, think about it. They could’ve made me give him up that night, and unless I’d have wanted to start another war right then, I would have had to. At least this way, we know when to expect him back.”

Abby now sighed as well. “All right, then. Finn – may we meet again.” She held out her hand to shake, and Finn nodded and responded in kind, then shook Kane’s hand as well.

Clarke briefly hugged Finn, then escorted him to the horse and cart. Nyko called, “You may join Octavia in the back. I will not have you restrained unless you attempt to escape.”

Finn nodded and hurried to get onto the bed of the cart beside Octavia, who shifted a bit to let him on. As he settled in next to her, she leaned in and muttered something into his ear; he gave her a slightly alarmed look, but managed to settle down.

Indra leaned over and beckoned to Clarke, who approached and leaned in so Indra wouldn’t have to speak too loudly. In a low voice, Indra said, “Heda has a small camp in a ravine you can get to off one of the trails to the trading posts. She has drawn you a map.” She tapped the bench, and Clarke could see an unobtrusive folded piece of paper tucked in between the wooden slats of the front bench. Clarke quickly plucked it out and tucked it into the palm of her hand as she nodded and stepped back, to all appearances casually putting her hands in her jacket pockets to huddle against the still-chilly morning.

With that, Nyko set the horse to moving, and they made a slow, wide loop that took them near the fence, then back out along the wide trail going to the woods. Octavia sat unperturbed by the cart’s occasional bouncing, while Finn wore an uneasy grimace as they retreated from Camp Jaha.

Back behind the gate of the camp proper, Clarke went to the still again, got a small water ration and sat down. When a large group of workers began shuffling around her table to get to the bar for some breakfast rations (which she knew she ought to eat as well, but the “oatmeal” was a laughable imitation of the comparatively realistic stuff she’d had on the Ark proper), she quickly brought out her piece of paper and checked it. As she mentally overlaid the trail Lexa indicated with the trails on the map Lexa had given her the other day, she grinned. The base camp was reachable from Niylah’s trading post as well as from Camp Jaha, which meant she could take Raven along and disguise the real purpose of her trip again.

With luck, thought Clarke, the Mountain would never know what hit it until too late.

Chapter Text

Clarke, remembering her talk of amnesty with Bellamy, managed to get her mother, Kane, Byrne and Sinclair to all congregate in the Chancellor’s office so they could talk about it.

Looking around at each person as she spoke, Clarke led off with, “Lexa just had a message passed on to me through Indra. She’s set up a small base camp well off one of the trading post pathways, and I want to touch base with her today as well as take Raven to see one of the traders we met previously – they might have old electrical junk and in any case, we need meat rations and clothes.”

Kane frowned. “Do we even have anything they want? We’re still getting the hydroponics settled in, so we could grow some fruits and vegetables out of season – but that has to be for ourselves first. Liquor? I don’t know if we can make any of that in quantity and they have their own, anyway.”

Clarke smiled. “This particular trader happens to want a lamp. You’ve probably noticed the grounders use a lot of candles—” Clarke’s mouth quirked in reminiscence of Lexa’s seemingly endless supply of candles in Polis, but quickly managed a look of detachment again.

Abby nodded. “And torches. But we can’t just treat them like we can give them little trinkets. That’s not a mutual trading relationship long-term.”

“Which is partly why I want to touch base with Lexa. Maybe we can offer medical help; we’ve already proven we have expertise they lack because we got Lincoln back from being a Reaper. If they bring sick or injured people here, we have surgical facilities – things like that.” Clarke took a breath. “But there’s a far more important reason: the war itself.”

Sinclair tilted his head in puzzlement. “What about it? It’s straightforward, isn’t it? Take over the Mountain, get our people back?”

“Wars always have a political dimension, too,” Clarke noted. As I discovered at the worst possible fucking time, too. At her mother’s perplexed look, Clarke smiled slightly, smoothly reassuring, “I paid enough attention in my pre-War history classes, Mom.”

Clarke shifted her stance and said, “The point is, we will be in a position to offer amnesty to people because at the very least we have to hold their leaders accountable for what they’ve done. That means we go down the chain far enough, there’ll be some ordinary security corps worker who’ll say they were a secret rebel against the Grounder bleedings, or something like that.”

Abby folded her arms across her chest. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, people in there are going to have to do a lot of work to prove themselves credible on that front. That girl you talked to, Maya – I could see allowing her a donation of bone marrow in exchange for vetting anyone else, but any serious discussion – Commander Lexa should be involved.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Clarke chimed in. “I want to hammer out what our stance is and to have the authority to negotiate with her for our united front.

“For starters, we agree here and now on our side, never to accept a separate peace. The Mountain Men can try to bribe us all day and all night long and we will not move: the price is unconditional surrender. I think I can get Lexa to agree on that.

“The harder part is what to do with them all afterwards. There’s going to be children in there and we know there’s a small group of people who morally object to the ‘treatments’ and take only the bare minimum to stay alive. Maya’s obviously one of them. Those people shouldn’t be executed out of hand, but can we push for a trial of the leadership for crimes against humanity? Lexa’s people will want them all executed straightaway, I’m sure of it.”

Abby sighed and pulled up a chair to sit down. She gestured around the room and said, “Grab something to sit on, if you want.”

Clarke leaned back against the nearby wall, and looked around again. Byrne was impassive; Sinclair, frowning contemplatively; Kane, muttering to himself; her mother, resting her arm on her nearby desk, tapping the wood gently.

Kane spoke up. “There are going to be some of our own people who will cry out that the Mountain Men are getting more justice than they ever got, if we have a trial.” He eyed Clarke and Abby knowingly; having been under threat of the death penalty without due process, Clarke knew she had a valid moral objection on that front. Kane continued, “But we can be better than they are. We can show that even in the aftermath of our victory, we were generous enough to afford them a platform to justify what they did, however incomprehensible it might be to us that they had any kind of a good reason.”

Abby muttered, “Survival of your own people tends to excuse a lot, Marcus.”

“I’m not denying that, but once you go that way, Abby, where does it stop? The Mountain Men had a brush with death from mass exposure to radiation from the outside, from what Clarke mentioned their President saying about his childhood. They decided survival meant more than just waiting out the radiation, more than just improving their filtering and their recycling. They decided it meant stealing other people away from their homes and their families because of their blood!”

Kane sat up, his body taut as he spoke with feeling. “We could have ended up justifying to ourselves something similar: even Thelonious was hinting in that direction. He called the grounders ‘savages’, you know. It can be a very short step from that to deciding we should take their land away from them, even though they’ve clearly lived well enough within the limits of lack of technology. Survival doesn’t have to mean competition! It can mean cooperation, as we’ve proven we can do with the Grounders.”

“The Mountain Men just never considered it,” muttered Clarke. “Not when they could decide Grounder lack of technology meant they weren’t really human beings.” In a louder voice, she said, “If we don’t have a trial, are we comfortable with the fact that after the war, Lexa’s people will probably use the Death of a Thousand Cuts on any of the surviving leaders and security corps?”

Everybody looked at her, wide-eyed. “What?” whispered Sinclair.

Shit! realized Clarke. If I’m not careful I’ll end up saying something I could not possibly know and I’ll be so fucked.

“Lexa told me, in private, back in TonDC. When she banished that general, Gustus, she decided to send him away to the Ice Nation – which won’t be an easy task – to see about getting safe passage for our people, although I can’t guarantee anything right now; it’s too early.” Liar, thought Clarke to herself sardonically. “But back to Gustus: she could’ve had him executed for treachery by having him tied up to a post at sunset or sunrise, and every warrior would slice at his arms, legs and body, drawing blood each time. The final end comes in the morning or the evening, when the highest leader kills the guilty person with a sword straight to the heart. But nobody ever lives that long.” Clarke couldn’t quite help the shudder that went through her at seeing two such executions in her lifetime – and Gustus had somehow held out to the very end, forcing Lexa to kill him herself.

Byrne, appalled, shook her head. “If I hadn’t known their Commander was flexible enough to negotiate truces…”

Clarke replied, “It’s easy to think harsh laws mean savage people. You know they’re not.”

Abby and Kane were both shaking their heads in stunned disbelief, while Sinclair was rubbing his forehead as he tried to get his mind around that kind of death penalty.

“Look, it’s part of a philosophy they’ve had for almost a century,” reasoned Clarke as she stood tall and stepped forward. “They call it ‘blood must have blood’: jus drein jus daun in their language. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

“But blood doesn’t have to have blood,” argued Kane. “You know on the Ark we had a similarly inflexible law, and still Thelonious and I, we learned we didn’t have to do it that way: you were forgiven, Abby – and Clarke, you might’ve been a guinea pig, but you were given a second chance at survival down here.”

“I get that, Councillor, and I know justice doesn’t have to only be about hitting back when you’ve been hit,” said Clarke, “But I don’t think all of them can be persuaded to think that way.”

God only knows Lexa tried the first time, and look what it got her.

“We’ve gotten away from the point,” snapped Abby as she now sat up. She rested her palm flat on the desk beside her as she ordered, “Clarke, you are empowered as our representative to ask that Commander Lexa join us in demanding unconditional surrender with no separate peace agreements. You are also strongly requested to argue for post-war crimes against humanity trials for any and all surviving people that the grounders and we together deem to have been responsible enough to merit such charges. Punishments will range from permanent solitary confinement within the Mountain up to and including execution.” She held her hand up now. “But our way, not theirs. One bullet or one sword stroke, guilty person’s choice.”

Clarke nodded. “I’ll push for the first. What if I can’t get the second?”

Abby rested her hands on her legs as she prepared to stand up. “Then you’d better make sure as many of the responsible people happen to die in combat. As much as I despise the Mountain Men for the conscienceless things they’ve done, I am still doctor enough to not want to watch what amounts to death by torture, if Commander Lexa won’t budge on demanding executions by their method.”

With that, the group of people, if not on their feet, got to their feet and went back to their duties. In Clarke’s case, it was time to fetch Raven Reyes.

The explosives production hall, as Clarke had come to think of the repurposed mess hall, was now a bustling hive of activity even though it was only midmorning as yet. It was already slightly permeated with the acrid smell of chemicals, solder and metals. The air circulation, she was sure, was working overtime to keep the room’s air reasonably fresh.

Raven was at the end of one long bench, carefully assembling an explosives timer. A nondescript bag sat near her on the bench, with a cord stretching out of it to an earbud in her ear, indicating that Raven was still keeping an ear out on the Ark frequency or the status reports from the various prowlers outside of the Mountain.

To keep up the pretense (although, wondered Clarke, why bother? Nobody from the Ark would betray them to the Mountain) as she approached, she called over the low roar of people talking and the clattering of tools on the metal tabletops, “Hey, Raven, quit listening to music for a sec. I gotta talk to you.”

Raven plucked the earbud out of her ear, looked up at Clarke and grinned. “Hey! Just testing a timer for a spark fuse. What’s up?”

Clarke grinned and sat beside Raven, the radio-bag between them. She leaned in and said, “How’d you like to see your girlfriend again?”

Raven’s eyebrows shot up as she chuckled, “Already? Wow, you must be desperate to get us together.”

“Oh, shut up, mechanic,” joked Clarke.

“Please, only the best for me, princess,” replied Raven in a snooty tone. Her voice grew serious as she leaned in closer. “What’s going on?”

“Lexa got a message to me. She’s at her command post and I need to take those smoke bombs and stuff to show her troops what they can do. Plus Mom wants me to hammer out some important stuff with Lexa, like what we’re gonna do with everybody from the Mountain after the war.”

Raven nodded to herself. “Makes sense. Well, I found a nice working lamp with four-way switches, and it has a fresh battery. I wasn’t expecting to be able to take it ‘till later, but hey, I’m game.”

“Great!” Clarke grinned. “I’ll walk with you to Niylah’s trading post, then I’ll say I’m gonna go get the blackberries. If she doesn’t know her Commander’s in the area, she won’t accidentally act weird or anything. The chances of an observer are pretty low, but still. Anyway, when you get there, trade that lamp for meat, clothes, and any old electrical junk you think you could scavenge for parts back here. After I meet with Lexa, I’ll come back and get you and we’ll head back here.”

Raven smiled. “All right. I can spare a few hours. We’re still ramping up and I figure we’ll hit full-out production by tonight. Kane figures we’ve got at least forty people who are gun-proficient so just for that many we want each one to have ten smoke bombs and ten flash-bangs, plus one tone generator for every four of them. Also, of course, grenades, mortars, delayed-fuse bombs, whatever – basically if we have to smash our way in through any of their doors, we should be able to.”

“Bellamy will be in the Mountain by tomorrow morning latest. We’ll need to be back here so we can get status reports from him,” Clarke said as she plucked a resistor out of a small parts box near her and fiddled with it.

“Thanks for reminding me,” said Raven as she poked Clarke’s shoulder. “I need to remember to add the encryption/decryption chip to the radio for the Ark frequency.”

“Okay, good.” Clarke dropped the resistor back in the box and braced herself against the table as she got to her feet. “See you outside in a few minutes?”

Raven nodded. She turned and bellowed to the room at large, “Wick! Where the hell are you?”

Over at another table, Wick’s head popped up from behind a collection of beakers and glassware stands. He shoved his goggles up from his eyes and barked back, “Yeah, what is it?”

Raven called out, “You’re in charge ‘till I get back. I gotta trade to get us some food and supplies and shit like that!”

Wick rolled his eyes and grinned. “I’ll try not to blow the place up while you’re gone.”

Raven smirked and carefully got to her feet. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s my job.” To Clarke, she said, “Shoo. Go get your travel pack or whatever. I gotta just adjust this brace for a sec.”

Clarke smiled. She then yelled to the room, “And thanks, everyone, for working so hard!”

A ragged chorus of cheers rose up as Clarke strode out of the explosives production hall.

Chapter Text

Cage Wallace, seated near the large screen in the main observation and control room, looked at his lieutenant, Emerson. He tapped his chin and pointed at the picture of the two outsiders carting away two Arkers. “What do you make of this? Hostages, or cooperation?”

“Hard to say, sir.” Emerson stood from behind his console and expanded part of the image, making it a bit grainier in the process. “The boy doesn’t seem dressed properly for any kind of extended journey away from the Ark. It’s getting colder as we head into winter, but he doesn’t have even basic travelling gear.”

“Hmf,” grunted Cage.

“On the other hand, the girl is dressed almost like the outsiders and seemed to be a bit more willing to get on the cart. Could she be joining them?” Emerson frowned. “After all, the woman in front – we know she’s the leader of a fairly large group of these people.”

“So we could ask why the leader is wasting her time on two relatively insignificant people,” noted Cage. “But it still doesn’t change the fundamental equation: we have the veil, and in a week or two, we’ll be on the ground anyway.” He shook his head. “We’re wasting time with forward observation. You complained to me we need more boots on the ground anyway, and we’ve got three or four people tied up on rotating watch. Not to mention the previous month and change sending people out to spy on their other ship every now and then. At some point the value of the intelligence we’re getting is not going to be worth the time it takes to get it, and I think we’re near that point.”

“I did argue, sir, for a remote duck-blind,” said Emerson with some heat.

Cage nodded. “And I did veto it because there’s always the chance we could lose it – either to a wandering animal damaging it or to the Arkers remotely detecting it – and that is an expensive piece of equipment we cannot afford to lose.” He looked down at his own threadbare suit, brushing his finger against the thin fabric. He thought again, then decided. “Give them another day or so. Then terminate the observation.” He pointed at the screen. “So what does this look like to you? The boy a hostage for the girl’s good behavior when they go hunting?”

“It could be, sir. After all, she’s armed, even if just with a sword like the outsiders normally use.” Emerson’s brow furrowed. “I just remembered an incident that could support the hypothesis. There was an unexplained fire in one of their villages a while ago, around the time a group of the Ark people took off in a hurry and brought two people back with them the next day. One of our routine observers checking on our Reapers a mile or so away happened to notice what looked like a small flare-up late at night.”

Cage relaxed in realization. “And you believe the outsiders figured out that this little incident – an attempted attack, perhaps – was not caused by one of their own, but by the boy?”

“As far as I can tell, there isn’t any other reason to demand his presence along with the armed girl’s,” noted Emerson. “And we know they’re not afraid of executing criminals who act up.”

Cage slapped the table next to him and stood up. “All right. I’m done with this. They send people out and come back with rabbits, you tell me. They’re scrabbling in the dirt even as winter comes on. Well, the Arkers can play at being hunter-gatherers all day long. Let them. Dr. Tsing informs me that she will soon be done with the girl, and we can move on to another of the teenagers. Continue coordinating and training the initial ground troop teams. We need our best men to be the first ones on the ground within two weeks.”

“Sir.” Emerson came to attention and nodded sharply.

Cage walked to the door. As he grasped the handle to open it, he pointed at Emerson. “In six months, the land as far as I can see from the top of this Mountain will be ours, and we will have it, one way or another. And nothing is going to stop me from achieving that for our people.”

Dante Wallace was the President of the surviving remnants of the United States of America. As such, he expected to be fully informed and obeyed promptly when he gave instructions to his underlings. Lately, however—he frowned. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, necessarily, but he was certain his son, Cage, was beginning to feel his oats. There had been … incidents recently. Some of his guards seemed just barely insubordinately recalcitrant in following routine orders—nothing he could definitely discipline them for, of course, but nonetheless…

And that was why he stood just outside the door of the security and remote observation center, flanked by a guard and waiting in apparent unconcerned placidity for his son to emerge from behind the door. He wanted to see Cage’s face – look his own son in the eye and see what the boy was planning.

The door opened, and Cage stepped out. He stopped, his surprised expression quickly morphing to one of veiled caution as he saw the guard flanking Dante. “Dad. Is anything the matter?”

“Walk with me, Cage.” Dante’s tone brooked no discussion, and Cage fell into step next to him as they went along the corridor in the direction of the elevator. Dante’s guard was a few paces behind.

Dante cut a glance over to Cage as he continued to silently walk for a few more moments. Cage seemed to be trying to glance back at the guard without making it obvious. As they rounded the corner, Dante sighed and raised his hand to call a halt. He looked over at the guard and said, “Give us a moment,” sending the man around the corner and some distance down the hall.

He stared down at his son, who seemed a bit more relaxed. “You are head of security in this complex, Cage. Why should a guard’s presence trouble you?” wondered Dante rhetorically.

Cage frowned and opened his mouth to speak.

Dante lifted his finger sharply. “No, Cage. I will talk and you will listen.” He lowered his hand, placing it in all apparent friendliness on his son’s shoulder. “I have been wondering, lately. It is rather curious that two of my assistants both seem to have recently experienced unusual incidents.”

His grip tightened, causing Cage to wince a bit before Dante released his son and dropped his hand to his side.

Cage, shaking himself as he regained his ruffled dignity, wore an expression of convincingly injured innocence – the same innocence Dante remembered a teenage Cage wearing even as he denied sneaking into the art room with his girlfriend when he was supposed to be learning his pre-Disaster history. Ignoring, of course, the very obvious bruise on his neck where the girl had left a hickey.

At that time, Cage’s adventurism had merely led to a roll of Dante’s eyes and a confinement to living quarters for a couple of days; after all, Dante had been a boy once, too. This time, however, if what he suspected was right, the stakes could be much, much worse.

“First,” noted Dante, “There is Maya Vie and her accidental exposure to radiation.”

“I explained that to you already, Dad,” Cage protested. “In fact, that’s why you had her talk to you about upgrading the decon filters in medlab and other critical areas just in case something was wrong with them.”

“And so I did,” agreed Dante. “But I find it curious that now Keenan Mykulak, one of my other assistants, has been absent from duty for two and a half days now.”

Cage’s mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed for a fleeting instant.

Anyone else watching Cage Wallace would have been convinced it was an involuntary reaction to the news.

Dante knew otherwise. That same expression had crossed Cage’s face when a much more serious problem had arisen about ten years before.

Cage’s first wife Sandra had been arguing strenuously with him one day when Dante had walked into the middle of it; he had intended to surprise them with a rare pre-Disaster bottle of wine for their anniversary. He had later noticed they seemed less enamored of one another after that.

Sandra had suddenly died a few months after that first argument, apparently due to ‘complications arising from blood treatments for radiation exposure’. The doctor at the time had since been replaced by Tsing, but he had personally told Dante that the filtration system to remove any harmful agents from the savages they’d captured had been maintained just the week before and there should have been no issues. Yet somehow a foreign disease had made it through and she had quickly bled out. (The entire medlab had had to be professionally decontaminated for both radiation and any biohazards.)

The incident report, along with the autopsy, somehow failed to mention that curious issue when they were filed with Sandra’s death certificate. When Cage was asked privately by Dante what had happened, Cage had said all the usual things a grieving husband ought to say, but that twitch of his mouth had always made Dante wonder.

In any case, Cage being security officer had kept him bound by rules and regulations, and he had been competent, if nothing else, which was a valuable commodity in a complex of only three hundred-some people in constant danger of inbreeding. Dante had also, in all honesty, been willing to set aside his concerns because Cage was intended to succeed him as President one day.

But now—

Dante knew.

And there was still one more thing.

Keeping his voice as steady as he could, he added, “And I had a visit from two worried boys last night. They seemed to be convinced that another one of their own had left here, like that girl Clarke. Cage, if you are forcing these children when I’ve said they must be allowed to volunteer—”

“Of course not,” lied Cage. “The girl disappeared on her own, as with Clarke. You know there is the exit through the dam, as well as any number of other possible ways out of here if someone is determined enough. What do you want me to do, shut them all down? We need them for our outside observers.”

“Enough, Cage!” barked Dante. “Find that missing girl. I want her in front of me, in my office, in two hours. And if she has been harmed in any way, Cage—”

Dante stuck his finger in his son’s face. “There won’t be a Wallace to succeed me as President, of that you can be assured!”

He turned and stalked away, not caring to look at his son right then.

Chapter Text

Lincoln’s temporary bed was in a secondary medical quarters set up on the ship which could double as an isolation wing (it had proved very handy in lending verisimilitude to her mother’s apparent illness). He sat on one of the beds, paging slowly through his worn leather-bound book. Clarke greeted him and sat on a nearby bed.

She left a tunnel map with Lincoln, asking him to redraw it once for Bellamy and once for her with any additions or changes. She also only had to spend a few seconds describing Cage Wallace before seeing Lincoln go slightly pale. He whispered, “That’s him. He used the red on me.”

Clarke reached out, extending her hand. She whispered back, “I’m sorry, Lincoln.”

His strong hand clasped hers, and he gave her a wan smile. “Thank you.”

Clarke’s grip tightened. She said, “They will not get away with this, I promise you.”

Lincoln blinked and looked away. “That’s what Octavia said, along with a few swear words I’m not going to repeat.”

Clarke managed to let out only a short, sharp wheeze as she let go of Lincoln’s hand and stood. “That sounds like her, all right.” She shook her head. “You know she loves you, Lincoln.”

Lincoln smiled. “She’s … strong. I think she has always been.”

Clarke, remembering something she would rather have forgotten, sat back down and looked at the floor. “At the dropship. We … I … you know we did things to you. Awful things. If it hadn’t been for Octavia—”

Lincoln’s brief touch on her arm made her look up. He was shaking his head slowly. “I hold no anger towards you for that. You were angry, fearful. That makes people do things they shouldn’t.”

“Still,” muttered Clarke. “It wasn’t right.”

“And that is what makes you better than Maun-de. Remember that. You still have your consciences.” Lincoln now looked at the floor. “That man—Cage. He would have let me die without a second thought if it suited him.”

Clarke shook her head in disbelief. She let out a heavy sigh and rose to her feet once more. She said to Lincoln, “Can you describe Cage to Bellamy as well when you give him any changes to the map?”

“I will, Clarke.” Lincoln frowned. “But why, exactly?”

“Bellamy is going to sneak into the Mountain late at night to disable the acid fog,” replied Clarke.

Lincoln sat up. “I should go with him.”

“No, you can’t.” Clarke shook her head. “I’m sorry; I really am, but you’re still in recovery even if you feel healthy. Didn’t you say to Octavia that you still feel like you want some of that red drug?”

Lincoln looked away and didn’t answer. Clarke knelt next to him. “Talk to my mother. We didn’t talk about it a lot on the Ark, but we did have some addiction cases. She can help you.”

Lincoln sighed and nodded.

Clarke said, “Don’t worry. Soon enough we’ll all have to do our part against the Mountain.” With that, she went to the door and gave Lincoln a short wave. He briefly waved back, then lay flat on his bed as she went down the hallway.

Outside Alpha Station, Clarke greeted Raven. “Hey!”

Raven grinned back. “Hey to you too. By the way, I spoke to Bellamy. Told him to see Sinclair about disabling valves and other mechanical systems. Also, Sinclair’s going to have the Ark-wide radio on him if Maya has to call us back for any reason, when he can’t leave it with Kane. I’ve told him I disguised it as a music system. He’s already been carrying around a radio so anyone can contact him within walkie range if he needs to coordinate something, so it won’t be too strange to have him walking around with another thing hanging off his shoulder.”

Raven shifted her pack on her back, and Clarke said, “Your lamp’s in there?”

“Yep! So, shall we, princess?” Raven gestured at the gate.

“Off we go, mechanic!” jibed Clarke as she shifted her own backpack on her shoulders and began walking.

The midmorning day was a bit chilly, with scattered clouds here and there amid a blue sky, promising a warmer afternoon if the cloud cover didn’t get any thicker.

The journey to Niylah’s trading post was, as it had been the other time, easy on Raven and uneventful. Clarke mused at one point, “You know, I used to wonder why we didn’t see many animals, and now I know it’s because the Grounders are very good at hunting them, so they stay away.”

“Huh,” muttered Raven. “Makes sense, I guess. Niylah told me she and her father, they trade for this kind of salted meat, I guess? Did you overhear her or something, ‘cause you told me to get some meat, but you didn’t talk to her alone.”

Oh, god damn it, how can I keep almost revealing myself like this, mentally groaned Clarke. If a table had been nearby she would have banged her head against it.

To Raven, Clarke replied blandly, “Yeah. I caught some bits and pieces.” She winked at Raven and said, “Sorry about that, if you two were, y’know, talking about late-night baths or anything.”

“Shut up!” laughed Raven. “No, that was not the subject of discussion.” She leaned in. “But I hope it is this time!”

With that, Raven’s pace picked up a bit, with Clarke easily keeping up as they trekked along the dirt trail flanked by tall trees.

Raven Reyes bit her lip as she looked at the door to the trading post. Clarke smiled and nodded in encouragement. Raven walked up to the door and knocked loudly. “Hei,” she called.

A few moments later, the door swung open and the blonde woman, upon seeing Raven, smiled broadly. “Hei. Reivon?” Niylah was wearing what appeared to be a thin white shirt under a black leather coat, along with worn black jeans.

“Sha,” replied Raven. “Ai gaf kofon in, Naila.”

Niylah grinned. “You have that correct this time. Please, come in.” Over Raven’s shoulder, she called, “Klark, yu kom op?”

Clarke called back, “Nou, ai na gada dina op. Raven, I could be gone for a while getting the blackberries.”

Raven called back, “Okay, just come get me whenever.”

With that, Niylah ushered Raven into the trading post and watched carefully as Raven stepped over to the long table. She frowned. “Will you be all right without your friend?”

Raven nodded. “Yeah. I just need to have someone with me in case my knee brace breaks, or if my leg cramps up – that kind of thing. But in here I’ll be okay with just you.” She took a chance and gave Niylah a grin and a wink. Niylah leaned in a bit more closely at that.

Raven slid the backpack straps off her shoulders and carefully heaved it onto the table. She unzipped the backpack and reached inside. With a bit of a flourish, she pulled out the lamp and said, “Ta-da! One lamp, as promised.” It was a cube-like affair with a round base, with one bulb for each side of the cube except for the top and bottom.

Niylah smiled. “And this will shine light and not burn out, yes?”

“Ab-solutely.” Raven grinned. “Okay. See up top here? There’s four switches. One for each side of the lamp.” She clicked each rocker switch in succession, demonstrating how the lamp would throw an even yellowish-white light from the chosen side of the cube.

Niylah shook her head in amazement. “This is wonderful! Now I can travel at night if need be, or light up my room, or—”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” joked Raven. She bit her lip, not wanting to get down to business just yet. Niylah really did have a nice smile, and she could get used to that all day. She remembered what Niylah had done the other day, and tentatively reached for Niylah’s forearm, clasping it gently for a moment. Niylah’s stance shifted, and she nodded at Raven. Okay, now down to business.

Raven let out a gusty sigh and said, “Um, I need to trade this lamp for meat, clothes, and I’m not sure what else. I could use your help, honestly.”

“Of course. My father and I have some reserves of salted jerky, and there are clothes on the shelves—come, follow me.” Niylah stepped around the table and briefly touched Raven’s arm as she passed by. Even through her coat, Raven couldn’t help the slight frisson up and down her spine.

Raven managed to keep in step as Niylah took her over to a shelf strewn about with various articles of clothing. Raven lifted up what looked like a serviceable jacket, then set it back down. She spotted what looked like some good pants just a bit further down, past Niylah. She tried to shift past unobtrusively, but her leg chose that moment to not quite cooperate, and Raven stumbled, barely managing to keep her grip on the waist-high bench to keep from falling over.

“Raven!” Niylah blurted, grabbing Raven’s left arm to help steady her. Niylah’s other hand on the small of her back sucked Raven’s breath away as she suddenly felt her heart thudding against her ribcage.

She turned and stared into Niylah’s eyes; the other woman’s concerned expression slowly melted away, and an unmistakably inexorable magnetic pull seemed to bring their faces closer—closer—still closer…

Niylah’s face tilted a bit; her lips parted and touched Raven’s own, prompting Raven’s almost-unconscious parting of her own lips. Niylah tugged Raven closer, upon which Raven gladly threw her arms around Niylah and let herself fall into the amazing, earth-moving kiss, feeling Niylah’s soft lips against her own as time and space melted away.

She belatedly realized Niylah’s hands were gently roaming up and down her back underneath her coat before they slowly came to rest on Raven’s hips as they gently and mutually ended their first kiss with a final sloppy smooch.

Niylah permitted herself a grin as she whispered, “So, Sky People can kiss very well, it seems.”

Raven threw her head back and let out a loud laugh. She tilted her head forward again, resting her forehead against Niylah’s. “And the Tree People have some hidden kissing skills, it seems.”

Niylah let out a small chuckle, then her expression grew somber. “As much as I would love to continue this, you came to trade, did you not?”

Raven swallowed and nodded, drawing her head back as well. “Uh, yeah. That’s true. I’m sorry if I caused you trouble—”

Niylah shook her head and released Raven. “By no means. I would be glad to continue this, but after we have assembled what you can carry back in trade.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Raven grinned, let her hands fall from Niylah’s back and turned to the clothes. “So what’s good in this pile? You’re the expert.”

Niylah smiled and picked up a decent-looking set of pants. “This was traded by a goufa who got too tall …”

And some time later, Raven’s backpack was stuffed full of some changes of clothing, plus a fairly sizable twine-wrapped package of jerky which Niylah promised would be delicious, and some hunting knives, which Niylah said any gona could train people to use to fell even a deer, if aimed at the right spot.

Niylah then picked up her lamp with one hand and Raven’s backpack with her other hand. She gave Raven another small smile. “Come to the back with me, Raven, and we can continue with what we were doing earlier.”

Raven beamed. “I like the way you think, Niylah.” With that, she let Niylah lead her to the heavy drapes covering the opening to the back of the trading post.

Chapter Text

The loud distant banging at the trading post’s front door startled Raven and Niylah. Niylah lifted herself up, staring down at Raven, who lay on the bed, her hair out of its ponytail. Luckily, neither had taken their clothes off except for their coats.

“Jok!” blurted Niylah. She got up off the bed, quickly threw her coat on and arranged her hair, making sure she didn’t look like she’d just been making out rather heavily for the last while. She looked at Raven with an apologetic expression and hissed, “Set raun hir!”

Raven, having pushed herself up to a sitting position, nodded. “Sha!”

Niylah ducked back through the small hallway out of her bedroom, pushing past the heavy drapes covering the back entrance. Raven strained to hear anything, but she could only catch the distant rumblings of a male voice and occasional snatches of Niylah’s higher-pitched voice. She quickly busied herself getting her hair back into a ponytail, then continued listening.

Over the next few minutes, she could hear a couple of distant thumps, as though some heavy items were being shifted around. Another minute later, she could hear the low bang of the front door shutting again, and a very relieved Niylah entered the back bedroom a few moments later.

Raven said, “A hunter?”

Niylah nodded. “Yes. There has not been much trading or hunting lately as winter is coming. But this one brought a large mountain lion, and I gave him his portion of meat from his last kill. My father is on bandit hunting patrol at the moment, so if he does not come back soon I will carve and prepare the jerky myself later today or tomorrow.”

Raven, having felt Niylah’s arm muscles, still looked at her with new admiration at her implicit statement that she could handle a heavy animal all by herself. “Wow. That’s pretty impressive! I bet you could pick me up, huh?”

Niylah smirked and went over to her right side. She bent her knees and easily scooped Raven up, barely grunting as Raven yelped, “Whoa!” as she threw her arm around Niylah’s shoulders.

Raven grinned and brought her face closer to Niylah’s to garner a quick kiss. “I could get used to this.”

Niylah let out a low chuckle, then carefully set Raven back on the bed. “In any case, Raven, as much as I would like to take what we have been doing further—”

Raven nodded. “Yeah. We might get interrupted again.” She ogled Niylah’s chest. “Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s under that shirt, though.”

“And the same for you, as well,” noted Niylah, her eyes briefly taking in Raven’s chest as well. Niylah’s expert fingers tugging and tweaking at her nipples as they kissed, Raven’s hands cupping Niylah’s gorgeous breasts as the Grounder woman moaned into her mouth…

Raven needed to distract herself; she was already going to need a very private moment in her bed that night – no sense in making herself even hornier than she already was.

“Um,” wondered Raven as she rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow to look up at Niylah. “Can I ask a dumb question?”

Niylah sat next to her on the bed and rested her hand on Raven’s hip. “Ask.”

“Do you have a bathtub?” wondered Raven, a bit sheepishly.

Niylah pointed. “Through that door to the back. I can show you.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Raven, clenching her fist in triumph.

Niylah, perplexed, wondered, “Is my bathtub that important?”

Raven flushed and smiled up at Niylah, trying not to let on what her fantasies had involved. “Well, showers kind of suck when the water is strictly rationed. So, um, let's just get your lamp and try it out.”

Niylah got up off the bed and extended her hands to help Raven up to her feet. Then, Niylah grabbed up said lamp which she’d placed near one of the shelves next to her bed and flicked one of the switches. The brilliant light shone out from it, and she oriented it to point to the barely-visible door, which was the same color of wood as the walls (which made it easy to miss).

After Niylah opened the door and took a couple of steps inside the room, Raven followed her and she saw a rather large bathtub to her left, with a shelf running along the far wall. There were also unlit candles in holders at various points around the room. On the shelf sat various soap bars and some containers of what Raven assumed must be shampoos or liquid soaps (Raven remembered from her Ark chemistry classes you could make soaps from various oils and fats).

Another door was opposite the door they had just come in, and Raven pointed. “And that’s the actual back?”

Niylah nodded, throwing that door open, showing Raven the outside beyond. Various fallen trees and metal items were scattered about, making a kind of backyard filled with wreckage. Raven wondered, “What do people usually do with stuff like this? And how do you get it?”

“People find such things sometimes. They leave them with trading posts like this one as they have no use for them.” Niylah shrugged. “These things can sometimes be remade into weapons. Spears, swords, sword handles, knife handles, and other such. You can look through them if you wish.”

“Cool. Thanks.” She smiled at Niylah. “And how do you get water for the tub?”

“We collect water from rain. Also, there is a creek not far from here. It has no branwoda.”

Raven frowned. “Brown water?”

“Branwoda,” Niylah said, careful to enunciate the difference in Trigedasleng. “Dirty water. It’s water that if you drink, it kills you,” Niylah clarified. “We also use it to mean ‘idiot’ when talking about or to someone.”

“Of course,” breathed Raven. “Radiation. It would’ve contaminated the water.”

Niylah frowned, and Raven waved that off. “Just… thinking out loud.” She nodded back to the bedroom. “Um, I noticed you only have the one big bed. Where does your father, uh, sleep?”

“He regularly goes between here and TonDC or other trading posts when he is not on a patrol. When he stays here I let him have the bed. He never sleeps much, perhaps a few hours a night.” Niylah looked at the ground as she sighed. “My mother – she disappeared into the Mountain some time ago. Ripas.”

Raven gulped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Niylah looked back up at Raven and shook her head. “You could not have known. But my father was never quite the same after that. I was a yongon then, but old enough to help him with the trading.”

Niylah remembered her lamp and clicked off the switch, then led Raven back into her bedroom. She set her lamp down in a corner of the room and reached out to hold Raven’s hand. “I tell few people about my mother. It is not something people need to know unless I wish them to.”

Raven gently squeezed Niylah’s hand. “Of course. I won’t tell anyone.”

Some of the tension in Niylah’s face evaporated away. “Mochof, Reivon.”

Raven gazed into Niylah’s green eyes, wondering at how her chance meeting with this woman had already blossomed into something that felt like it could be serious. Niylah seemed to be thinking the same way, because she took a step closer and said, “Could I see your Ark some time soon?”

“Of course! Absolutely,” Raven said, nodding eagerly. “Um, the first time though, can I take you with me?” Raven chuckled and shuffled her feet. “It’s stupid, but it’s like, you coming to the Ark for the first time feels like I’m taking you out on a date.”

Niylah tilted her head. “A ‘date’?” She gave Raven a slightly perplexed smile.

“How do I put it?” wondered Raven. She scratched her head with her free hand, then looked at Niylah and said, “It’s like, one person invites the other to do something special, something nice. Usually with my people it’s a special dinner or meeting.”

“We have a similar custom,” agreed Niylah. “Since you cannot travel on foot by yourself, you should come on a horse or with a horse and cart.”

Raven nodded. “I’ll figure something out, for sure.”

A comfortable silence descended as Niylah tugged gently on Raven’s hand, pulling the two of them into a hug before slowly pulling apart again.

As if that had been a signal, the front door clicked open and a voice called, “Heya, Naila! Yu hir?”

Niylah grinned. “Ai nontu! My father – come, you must meet him.” She put her arm around Raven and rubbed her back briefly. “I think you will like him.”

Raven let Niylah lead her out to the front of the trading post, but still, she suddenly found her throat going dry. She remembered Sinclair telling her of the time his girlfriend’s parents, who were from one of the more prestigious stations, gave him a rather involved inquiry because he was from Mecha Station.

Raven couldn’t help but wonder just what the Grounder version of ‘I want to introduce you to my parent and tell them you’re my girlfriend’ involved.

Clarke Griffin had a portable container of the type used to carry food on the Ark; the lid had “Tupperware” marked on the surface, which Clarke supposed was the organization that had originally made the object before it ended up among the mishmash of old-world artifacts that circulated round and round the Ark from person to person via any number of ways for a hundred years.

She had found the blackberry field easily, and she knew from the map Lexa had given her she could sneak out the back of the field through some trees and bushes and come along a little-used trail. If memory served from her months skulking about these woods, that trail would cross the ravine Indra had indicated, leaving her virtually undetected the entire way.

While she hadn’t the experience the Grounders had in instinctively spotting those who shouldn’t be there, her skills were not totally lost and she kept a wary eye and ear out for any unusual things even as she apparently idly plucked at ripe-looking berries. As with her travelling to and from the dropship, she might not make out a hidden outside observer, but as long as she kept her head and her senses keen, she’d know if it was safe to make her way out the back or continue along the trail back to Camp Jaha.

Pike’s instructions about fruits mixed with her own knowledge gained from having been on Earth for – was it two months now, or almost five, or even longer? – and she could distantly hear, ‘typically, fruits that are safe to eat will not smell bad, and will generally not have discolored spots…’

She again wondered, as she peered at some berries on a nearby bush, gently squeezing each one to make sure they were fresh and not overripe, how that man could have become so warped as to plunge his people into a war she and Lexa had so desperately tried to stop before it gathered steam.

Some more berries hit the container, making small thunking noises as they added to the ones already there. Clarke hefted it, figuring she had about a quarter to half a kilo already. At least it would be enough for small away rations, though it wouldn’t be enough to really feed Camp Jaha’s people for any length of time. At least, mused Clarke, the emergency ration packs had mostly been on Alpha Station. We won’t starve, but it’ll be fucking monotonous until the hydroponics get going and we can get some actual meat. We lost our best hunters to the Mountain.

No strange rustlings could be heard, and as Clarke set her container down, ostensibly to check on her boots, she couldn’t catch any strange movements in the bush that came from a person involuntarily shifting about (which, in a radiation/hazmat suit, she thought, be nearly unavoidable even if the wearer were fairly used to it).

Still, Clarke decided to be cautious. She picked the container back up, took the lid back off it, and began meandering in the direction of the trees that lined one edge of the bushy area. After a few more minutes of idly plucking berries and casting the occasional unconcerned glance up at the trees when a bird chirped or another animal made a noise, she set her container down, crouching amid the bushes, now unseen by anyone around. She quietly eased back, still crouched, letting the tree branches carefully envelop her before she turned, stood slowly, and quietly stepped, measured pace by measured pace, down the narrow, barely-used trail. She kept her breaths light and shallow as she cast her gaze this way and that, hoping no-one had spotted her exit.

When, after a few minutes of walking, no green-suited Mountain Man accosted her and no sharp report of a gun sounded in the air, Clarke took longer strides, but made sure to keep any tree branches she brushed past from snapping back and revealing her presence.

Soon, Clarke came upon the narrow dirt and stone-lined ravine. She quickly shoved the container with berries back into her backpack before continuing. Taking care not to let her boots crunch too loudly or disturb the rocks and set them rattling against one another, she walked cautiously and steadily, watching for when the ravine would widen enough to permit a tent or two to be set up for a small hunting party.

From what she remembered of Earth geography and geology, wider riverbeds often had more silt than rocks because the water didn’t flow as quickly to scour the dirt away, and this ravine she was travelling along had probably been carrying a river at one time. In fact, as she walked, she could already see the rocky sides and bottom giving way to more and more dirt, signalling the as-yet imperceptible widening that, after another minute or so of walking, became clear. There was now a distinct uphill climb as the ravine rose and widened to about fifteen meters, letting her see more of the forest to the left and right. And sure enough, as Clarke peered ahead a bit, she saw what she was expecting.

Two utterly nondescript brown tents had been set up, and two gonas stood facing either direction along the ravine (which was really more like a very small valley at this point). As soon as one caught Clarke’s eye, they moved swiftly to the nearer tent, pushed aside the flap and called inside. A moment later, Clarke was gestured into the tent, and she faced Lexa, now in ordinary combat gear, and minus the war paint and special Heda emblem on her forehead. Clarke grinned and said, “Hei, Heda Leksa.”

Lexa smiled briefly in return. “You know that you can call me Lexa, Heda Klark kom Skaikru.”

Clarke stopped, and realized she was kind of a “heda”, being as her mother and Kane listened to her and took her suggestions onboard, and the younger people in the Ark would probably do anything she asked.

Clarke extended her arms. “May I?”

Lexa reached out and embraced Clarke in return. “Of course, Clarke.”

Clarke let herself get lost in Lexa’s hug for a few moments, letting the feel of Lexa’s uniform against her chin and the Commander’s hair brushing against her cheek wash over her, letting her know she held a vital and alive Lexa in her arms. Clarke briefly rubbed Lexa’s back, then slowly pulled away to look Lexa in the eyes. “Have you had any trouble?” she murmured.

“None. I have largely remained inside this tent, and when I go out at night I cover my head,” Lexa replied. She then leaned in for a quick, chaste kiss before releasing Clarke, surprising her. Clarke blinked and chuckled. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Lexa lifted an eyebrow. “Considering that not a few days ago, I felt bold enough to touch you in certain ways—”

Clarke nodded. “That’s true.” She hastened to add, “Not that I minded—”

“You would have let me know in no uncertain terms if I had overstepped any boundaries, Clarke,” Lexa replied, seating herself in a small chair in the tent and gesturing Clarke to the other one. Clarke noticed that behind Lexa was a sturdy-looking cot.

Clarke sat down and sighed in relief as she let her legs stretch out. “But I didn’t come here just to make out with you,” she joked.

“If by ‘making out’ you mean what we did in TonDC, I agree.” Lexa sat up and folded her hands as she rested her elbows on the thin, rickety arms of her chair. “How are the preparations at your Ark? Indra sent word to me she has received some maps of the tunnels. Along with my other generals, she has chosen gonas who are the best at map reading and who will join with your people.”

“We’re making lots of weapons. I’ve prepared Bellamy to go into the Mountain tonight. I haven’t told him this, and I’m not sure I want to because it may distract him, but I was wondering if maybe we could get a small Reaper snatch team – at most four people – following some distance behind him to grab any Reaper that comes nearby, just in case.”

“Hmm,” mused Lexa. “This would give some of my gonas practice in capturing some Ripas and show that more men than just Lincoln could be returned to their natural state. Who would join my fighters?”

“Dr. Jackson. My mom will give him what he needs to help subdue them and then cure them at our dropship. Two men each could carry one Reaper, so that means we can take out two of them tonight. Just enough that the Mountain will write them off as lost to killing each other or being killed by hunters.”

“I will consider this,” agreed Lexa. “What else?”

Clarke poked her backpack, now sitting beside her. “I have some prototype weapons – not guns, I promise.”

She wasn’t sure how much Lexa remembered of That Event (and she didn’t really want to ask, anyway), but her reaction to Marcus Kane’s suggestion of giving guns to Trikru had been a bit more vehement than Grounder dogma alone suggested.

Lexa, who had momentarily tensed up, relaxed again as she rested her hands in her lap. “You can take one or two of my gonas and show them in a clearing some distance away from here. This way if they make any loud noises they will not bring attention here. I plan to move tonight, in any case.” She reached into one of her pockets for another map and handed it to Clarke. “I will be at the new place for three days, sending men out to catch bandits. We have already found one so far; we caught a man trying to steal from a hunter who was carrying a mountain lion to one of the trading posts.”

“What will you do with the bandits?” wondered Clarke.

“The usual punishment for banditry is confinement for three sevendays with only bread and water. The room where we had our dinner can be used as a prison.”

“Huh,” muttered Clarke. She sat up and rested her hands on her knees. Adopting a formal tone, she said, “Commander Lexa of the Twelve Clans and the Woods Clan, I come to you as a representative of the Sky People to discuss the course of the war.”

Lexa in turn sat up, her very bearing becoming regal as her voice also took on an imperious tone. “Leader Clarke Griffin of the Sky People, what do you wish to discuss?”

“The Mountain stands in our way. To stop it from standing in our way, Lexa, we must stand together and demand unconditional surrender from the Mountain. No separate peaces, no separate parleys. We face the Mountain together; we negotiate with the Mountain together.”

Lexa inclined her head. “I do not see how that could be a problem. Agreed.”

If you only knew, Lexa.

“The next thing is trickier.” Clarke licked her lips and forged ahead. “There will be survivors of our battle with the Mountain. Two people are our confirmed allies. The rest range from unknowns to the leaders who have commanded the forces against your people. What I propose on behalf of the Sky People is to put the surviving leaders on trial.”

Lexa frowned. “They are guilty, Clarke,” she snarled as her right hand clenched into a fist. “You would have us be denied our right to punish them? Jus drein—”

“—jus daun, I know, Lexa,” finished Clarke. “But does it have to be that way? A thousand cuts when a bullet will do? Or the guilty being forced to spend the rest of their lives in the very Mountain they sought to escape?”

Lexa’s lips thinned. “My people will not see that as sufficient punishment.”

“But can you at least agree to putting them on trial first?” Clarke asked. She leaned forward, holding Lexa’s eyes with her gaze as she talked. “My people – we have these devices, they work like the walkies, sort of. Instead of sending sound through air, they record it. Permanently, if we want. We would record the trials, and make sure not just the Trikru, but all the Twelve Clans, would know what the Mountain Men did. And their children and their childrens’ children, forever and ever, as well. The crimes of the Mountain will never be forgotten, and we will make sure of it.”

Lexa’s bearing grew less tense as she thought, her gaze abstracted as she looked away from Clarke. After a few moments, she looked at Clarke and folded her hands again. “I will agree in principle to the trials, provided they can be, as you say, ‘recorded’ for everyone to hear now and forever. As to the method of execution, let us leave that for later.”

Clarke let out a small sigh. It wasn’t quite what her mother wanted, but at least Lexa was willing to let them put the crimes of the Mountain Men on full audiovisual record.

Lexa’s brows turned down in a frown. “But of this be certain, Clarke. The leaders are all guilty. A lone soldier is one thing. To be the man or woman who ordered ‘steal the blood of those who live on the land’ is another. And you implied they will do something even worse to your friends.”

Clarke’s mind flashed again to Dante Wallace, in the end choosing his people over her own, and Cage Wallace, madly refusing to listen to reason, even as she killed his father, still determined to steal her people’s bone marrow and blood.

“They will, Lexa,” Clarke said with an involuntary shiver. “They will steal from the very bones of my people, the marrow in the bones that makes the blood. Taking the marrow too fast kills someone, but the Mountain Men won’t care.”

Lexa’s eyes widened. She breathed, “And this – you saw it happen once already.”

Clarke nodded, a lump rising in her throat as she stared at the ground in front of her. Wanheda, she thought; an unwanted title conferred by a bitter victory.

“Why do I not remember this, Clarke?” Lexa frowned. “You tell me this, but it brings nothing new coming to my memories.”

Clarke spread her hands as she looked back up at Lexa. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Maybe it’s better that way. Knowing that this is happening once more – the last victory came at a high price—”

Too high a price. A price she definitely did not want to talk to Lexa about. A price that included a betrayal that had happened because Dante Wallace had correctly guessed that Lexa would value the Twelve Clan Coalition above the alliance. And the closer the war loomed, the worse it seemed to get for her.

“Can we please not talk about this right now?” pleaded Clarke, blinking rapidly as she tried not to let her vision blur.

Lexa’s hand clasping her own in calm reassurance was accompanied by a low, “Clarke.”

Clarke blinked, bringing Lexa back into focus, who was regarding her with solemn concern. Clarke whispered, “I need you, please.”

Lexa nodded sharply. She briefly let go of Clarke and went to the flap of the tent to bark an order in Trigedasleng promising dire consequences for anyone who entered unless a pauna or a Mountain Man was attacking them.

She then reached for Clarke, slowly pulling her up and over to the cot. Clarke sat down on the palliasse, and Lexa sat immediately next to her on her left, their legs touching. Lexa wrapped an arm around Clarke’s shoulders and murmured, “Whatever happened in that other world, Clarke, know that I am here with you now. Allow me to help you.”

Need rose within Clarke, and her only response was to turn her head and ensnare Lexa’s mouth in a kiss, which the other woman quickly reciprocated. Clarke’s arms went around Lexa, and Lexa tightened her grip on Clarke.

Chapter Text

After Clarke’s and Lexa’s first few moments of torrid kissing, they slowly drew apart, both breathing heavily. Clarke mumbled, “Thank you. I needed that.”

Lexa bestowed Clarke with a small smile and ran her hand slowly up and down Clarke’s back, prompting Clarke to lean against Lexa, their heads gently touching as she let her eyes flutter shut. Lexa’s free left hand hand clasped Clarke’s right hand, a distant echo of the time Lexa had sworn fealty to Clarke and her people. Clarke let her breathing steady out as she breathed in, then out, luxuriating in the slow movements of Lexa’s hand on her back, with the occasional gentle squeeze of Clarke’s shoulder muscles to help ease her tension.

After some time, Lexa whispered, “Clarke?”

Clarke groaned and grudgingly sat up, opening her eyes as she did so. She sighed and turned her head to look at Lexa. “I wish that could’ve lasted longer, but I feel better.” She gently squeezed Lexa’s hand, who returned her grasp before letting go.

“I do wish it could be longer as well. But the longer you remain in here, the more likely it is my gonas will start to wonder.” Only the slight glistening of Lexa’s eyes revealed her inner state as she stated flatly, “I cannot let it be known yet, Clarke, that I am coming to know you in a way I only knew one other person.”

Clarke nodded and whispered, “Costia.”

“If Nia and Azgeda were to learn of this before I can make my people understand—” Lexa’s only outward expression was to blink rapidly for a few moments.

Clarke shook her head, resting her hand on Lexa’s leg. “I get it. You don’t want anything to happen to me. But Lexa, please don’t close yourself off from me in private, okay?”

Lexa brought her hand from around Clarke to slowly brush her fingers across Clarke’s cheek before resting her hand on her shoulder. “That I can promise, Clarke.”

Clarke smiled and leaned in, gently ensnaring Lexa’s lips in another slow, lingering kiss. Soon, however, Clarke had to pull away, regret flooding her as she looked at her backpack. “I need to show off some of the things we made so your people can learn how to use them. Plus, I could use a bit of hand-to-hand training.”

Lexa stood, pulling Clarke up as she did so. “One of the gonas here is a woman. Her name is Talia. Ask her and one other to go away from here with you to any large clearing. You can do what you need there, and then return to your Ark.”

“Thanks.” Clarke reached out, pulling Lexa into one last embrace. “May we meet again,” she said into Lexa’s ear.

After they drew apart again, Lexa nodded. “We shall, Clarke. You have my new location. Come any time in the next three days.”

Clarke smiled briefly. “I think we should try that Reaper snatch team. Where should Dr. Jackson meet them? He can say he’s going to collect some herbs or something. We have a couple of old field manuals he could carry to make it look realistic.”

Lexa had Clarke pull out her new map, and indicated a point not far off one of the trails that led out towards the Mountain. “Have him come to this place. I will have one of the trees marked with a red circle, so he knows to wait if my gonas are hiding for any reason.”

“Good! By the way, I should show you the things I brought.” She moved to her backpack and brought out the small package Raven had given her. Clarke extracted a round black ball with a white fuse poking out of it. “Raven told me these will make smoke after you light the end of this fuse, which is just long enough to let you throw it at a group of opponents, or toss it down and retreat momentarily.” Lexa held out her hand to examine the smoke bomb more closely before handing it back.

Clarke replaced the smoke bomb in the package, then drew out the rectangular box, encased in dull black tape. Again, a white fuse poked out of one end. “And this, she says, is a flashbang. You light it, throw it, and when it explodes it gives off a loud noise and a bright, blinding flash. You definitely don’t want to be near this when it goes off; cover your ears and close your eyes before it does.”

Lexa examined the flashbang intently as well, then handed it back. “And you say your people are creating more of these and other things, as well?”

Clarke nodded. “Raven wasn’t joking when she says if a thing can blow up, she’ll find a way to make it.”

Lexa lifted one eyebrow. “I look forward to seeing these in use in battle.”

“We’ll need them, believe me,” replied Clarke. She secreted her package in one of her coat pockets, then smirked at Lexa. “And Octavia becoming Indra’s second – was that really you?”

“After one of my meditations the night your group slept in TonDC, a memory came back with me: I remembered a short conversation with Indra, and Octavia was standing behind her almost exactly as Anya had me stand behind her as Second. The conclusion was obvious, and I wished to see if it might be repeated here, as well.”

Clarke grinned. “It worked out! Indra took Octavia as her second, but not before Octavia got introduced the hard way to Grounder-style fighting. She has quite a few bruises on her face, and I bet she’s aching all over today and we still did some morning running.”

Lexa’s slow nod of approval warmed Clarke. In the other world, Lexa and Octavia had never quite seen eye-to-eye; maybe, in this world…

“If she already is showing the discipline needed of a Seken, I look forward to fighting alongside her and Indra.”

“Great!” Clarke beamed. “Because I wanted to have you, me, Indra and Octavia as the first team into the Mountain after the acid fog machine is disabled, which I think Bellamy can do within a couple of days. He’s going to need to do a lot of sneaking around undetected, but he did it once before, too, so I know he can do it this time too.”

“Much hinges on that one. I still have a troubling feeling about him – and somehow this is bound up with the one called Pike.”

Clarke’s breath hitched and she shut her eyes briefly, not wanting to see that killing field again or discuss Bellamy’s participation in that horrific atrocity. Would Lexa begin distrusting Bellamy if she remembered – or did she remember Indra mentioning Bellamy specifically?

Carefully, Clarke asked, “How much do you know about him, anyway? Pike, I mean.”

Lexa frowned. “I clearly remember that he killed numerous gonas who were not at war with him, because I have a short, but sharp, memory of Indra telling you and me it was he who did it. Aside from that, nothing. But I know how strongly I felt as well. He was a murderer, Clarke.”

Clarke gulped. “I know; I was there. It was… I just – words can’t describe it.” She busied herself getting her backpack back onto her shoulders.

Thankfully, Lexa did drop the subject as she sighed heavily. “As you say, it will never happen this time.”

Clarke reached out to clasp Lexa’s arm. “Just – please don’t kill him just because you don’t trust him, okay?”

What the hell is wrong with you? You can't just kill everyone you don't trust!

Lexa must have somehow heard the same echoes of that conversation, because she slowly took a breath, then let the air out through her nostrils before speaking. “I will try not to, Clarke,” promised Lexa.

Clarke let her arm drop, and said by way of apology, “I promise the next time not to bring up stuff like that.”

“Regardless, your presence does a good deal to help,” deadpanned Lexa with a slight glance at Clarke’s shirt, noticing the slight gap that showed her cleavage.

Clarke stared and snorted. “You did not just crack a joke about liking me for my boobs!”

“If you say so,” said Lexa, her expression now blandly innocent. “Besides, I am sure I like you for far more than just two of your body parts.”

“Says the woman who just stared at my chest,” teased Clarke.

“I could demonstrate my appreciation, if you wish, but I would delay you even further.” Was that a hint of a devilish smile on Lexa’s face? Damn it, thought Clarke, it’s not fair she gets to tease me like that!

Clarke, deciding she would get Lexa back for that another time, just nodded and said, “We can discuss that in a few days. Where’s Talia?”

Lexa went to the tent flap and barked more orders in Trigedasleng, then gestured Clarke through.

Outside the tent, Clarke blinked owlishly in the sunlight and got her bearings. A tall woman with light brown hair, dressed in a fairly standard-looking Grounder combat uniform, strode up to Clarke. Clarke said, “Hei, Talia. Ai gaf ron yu som op.”

Talia nodded, then gestured at one of the other troops to join her. “Ai laik gonaspika.”

Clarke said, “Thanks. I also want to do some hand-to-hand training with you, if that’s okay.”

Talia grinned. “You may come to regret asking me that, Klark kom Skaikru.”

With that, the trio struck out, heading away from the ravine approximately in the direction of the trail heading back to Niylah’s trading post. After some minutes of walking through the densely-treed part of the forest, they approached a clearing.

Clarke got out her package again, and produced a crude flint igniter Raven had assembled to go with it. She demonstrated the way it made sparks, then found a piece of wood. Soon, she had a slowly-burning stick she could use as a flame source, and quickly demonstrated first the smoke bomb, tossing the lit ball to the edge of the clearing.

The Grounders each seemed impressed at the large volume of smoke it puffed out, and Clarke explained, “We can use this to confuse our opponents because they won’t see us.”

Talia said in an aside to her comrade, in Trigedasleng, “This would have been useful in the border wars.”

Clarke then produced the flashbang and warned, “You need to throw this as far and as quickly as you can once the fuse is lit. After you throw it, cover your ears, close your eyes, and open your mouth a bit.”

Clarke’s pat delivery masked her uneasiness; her hand shook a bit as she lit the unassuming-looking black package, then threw it as far away from them as possible before swiftly crouching, covering her ears and slamming her eyes shut. A few seconds later, the loud BANG! roared through the nearby woods, sending a short blast wave through her as the bright white flash momentarily hit her eyelids.

As the forest stilled again, Clarke saw that the flashbang had seared two large trees about fifteen meters away, blackening their bark at about eye level. She looked over at the two gonas, who looked shaken even as they attempted to recover their composure.

Clarke said, “As you can see, you need to be very careful with these. Only use them when you know you won’t kill anyone on your own side, because they can kill people. As it is, anyone closer than us will go temporarily deaf and blind from the blast.”

With that, Clarke quickly grabbed up the flamestick she’d wedged into the ground and threw it down, stamping on it to put the flame out. She then handed the package and lighter to Talia, who handed it off to her comrade. Clarke set her backpack off to one side and said, “We can do the hand-to-hand for a bit now, if you want.”

A brief flash of gratitude crossed the other woman’s features at Clarke asking her to do something more within her realm of experience, and she barked to the other gona, “Stand guard while we practice.”

Some time later, a very tired and dirty Clarke Griffin indeed thought she would regret asking for her refresher lesson, but she was satisfied: she’d managed to make Talia work for every win she got, and with a few more sessions like these, Clarke thought, she’d be back up to snuff in time for her Mountain adventure.

She bade a now thoroughly grinning Talia goodbye, who said, “Ai gaf hit yu op nodataim!”

The return journey to Niylah’s trading post was uneventful, though Clarke found herself speeding up as the early afternoon sun began to noticeably wane in brightness.

At the trading post, Raven, her backpack now bulging with items she had been given by Niylah in trade, openly kissed Niylah goodbye at the front door. Niylah in turn briefly clasped Raven’s shoulder, then gave Clarke a short wave before she went back into her residence.

As they paced down the trail, Clarke raised her eyebrows at Raven. “So.”

Raven grinned. “So. Yeah, that happened.”

“You’re, like, girlfriends now?” wondered Clarke.

“Seems like it, yeah!” agreed Raven. “She even had me meet her dad, who was swinging by for a short visit before he went back on patrol. He’s kinda this crusty older guy who warms up to you if he thinks you’re all right. Basically said he was happy Niylah found someone, asked me a few questions. He’s a soldier in Indra’s army, you know.”

Alarm rose within Clarke. “He didn’t tell Niylah about—!”

Raven shook her head. “No, no, not in front of her. He got me aside, and Niylah just gave me this impish shit-eating grin like she knew I was gonna get the full parental interrogation. I swear, our people and Grounders are more alike than we think sometimes.”

Clarke chuckled. “So he was all, ‘if you compromise my daughter’s virtue, blah blah blah?’”

Raven snorted. “Not really, but Paxas – that’s his name – did tell me Niylah hasn’t had many girlfriends. I promised I wasn’t just using her or treating her like some kind of curious itch to scratch just ‘cause she’s a Grounder. Seems he thought I was on the level, because he told me in private he volunteered to be on one of the teams going into the Mountain.”

“Huh,” remarked Clarke. “I guess he figured since you’re a ‘Skayon’, you’d automatically know about the war. So you think you’re serious about Niylah?”

Raven mused, “It’s not like it was with Finn. With Finn, I could still kind of segment him off in my head, you know? Like, I was so focused on my zero-G exam he complained I was thinking about equations while we fucked.”

“But?” prodded Clarke.

Raven’s grin grew gentle as she gazed off into the distance. “With her, it’s like, I can’t think of anything else but her. And it’s not just that she’s cute and gorgeous. She’s pretty smart, too. After all, she figured out how that sundial worked for timekeeping, and she has this junk area in the back. I saw the frame for what looks like one of those old – what were they called – bisikes? – no, wait. Bicycles! Or maybe tricycles? Anyway, she got the point as soon as I described how you could put wheels in the right place.”

“No way!” exclaimed Clarke. “Could you really rebuild one just from the pictures we had on the Ark?”

“Maybe! Niylah and I scrounged a bit for the parts, but we only found two back wheels that go on either side of the rear carriage. I’d need to make a seat for it, too, and then attach the front wheel and come up with a drive assembly if I can’t get pedals on.” Raven grinned. “Her dad said if his patrol swung past one of the other trading posts he’d try to find a wheel about the right size and bring it back. He says I’ll owe him a favor he’ll collect on later.”

Clarke chuckled. “I bet he’ll make you come up with some kind of mountain lion catcher.”

Raven laughed as well. “So, you gonna tell me why you’re all scuffed up? And don’t tell me what you tossed off at Niylah back there. No way are you clumsy enough to trip and fall down a dirt ravine, Clarke.” Raven thumped Clarke’s shoulder.

“I was doing some hand-to-hand combat training,” admitted Clarke. “I don’t have time to learn how to use a sword, not like Octavia who has an expert teaching her. The best I can do is try and get myself in some shape, and bring a handgun with me.”

Raven whistled. “Was your opponent Lexa?” she whispered.

“No, someone else. But to answer your question some time ago…” Clarke leaned in. “Yes, Lexa and I are together.”

“Ha! I knew it!” squealed Raven. “Not gonna lie, she’s kind of badassly hot in a way.”

“It’s not easy to get close to her, though,” mused Clarke.

That much, she reflected, was true regardless of which world she was in. This Lexa was only as disposed to be intimate as she was because she’d already been shown what was possible between her and Clarke.

“Hey,” said Raven in a low voice. “I’m cool with keeping it on the QT and all. I won’t even tell Octavia.”

“Please keep it that way,” said Clarke. “It’s… she’s the Commander. Whoever she’s in a relationship with, that has political implications. She told me back before the Ice Nation – Azgeda – joined her Coalition, their Queen captured her girlfriend and…” Clarke finished in an appalled whisper, “They did something horrible to her.”

Raven paled. “Oh, fuck. They cut people’s heads off here, don’t they?” she breathed.

“It’s not a usual thing, but … yeah, that happened to Costia,” Clarke muttered.

At least, thought Clarke, Niylah would never have her life threatened over Raven.

Raven fell silent, managing to keep pace with Clarke as the sky slowly turned orange from the evening sun.

Chapter Text

A hooded Bellamy Blake, carrying only a small backpack for provisions, walked alongside Dr. Jackson in the moonlit night. He had originally planned to go alone, but the doctor had joined him at the gate, saying he could use company for part of his journey.

Jackson intended to try and find some glowing herbs Lincoln had told him could be useful in certain topical treatments for skin rashes, and he had an old field manual with him in the event he found some un-mutated medicinal plants as well.

Bellamy had basically been preparing all day for his trip: Sinclair, taking time out of his busy schedule with teams ransacking parts of the Ark, had instead spent some time educating him on the basics of sabotaging mechanical and electronic systems before finding him a rare dark blue polyethylene parachute, neatly folded into a small package not much larger than a printed book. Sinclair had explained, “We intended to attach these to the Exodus ships to help control their atmospheric descent. It was a stroke of luck one of my teams found this yesterday. It should be flexible enough to let you wrap yourself up to protect yourself from the acid fog.” After that, Sinclair had wished him good luck and sent him off to find Lincoln.

Lincoln had looked all right when he’d handed Bellamy a map and described Cage Wallace, but there’d been a hooded look in his eyes as he described the man that mirrored Octavia’s simmering anger towards the Mountain. After that, Bellamy had been glad to sit somewhere else in the explosives production room a bit of a distance from Lincoln to occupy his time until darkness.

Bellamy’s departure from the Ark had been short, but solemn. In the old council chamber, he’d bidden good-bye to Kane and Chancellor Griffin, then shaken hands with Lincoln, Raven and Clarke (Octavia was still out doing her training with Indra). Clarke, especially, had seemed unusually concerned about his departure: “Bellamy, we’re receiving strange communications to the observers on the tapped Mountain channel; weird shift changes, things like that. It sounds like something’s happening in there, and Maya hasn’t raised us on the radio. So keep an eye out in case you come across anyone in a radiation suit.”

She had stared into his eyes, willing him to understand something – what, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but knowing her, it was either “don’t do anything stupid”, or “it’s all on you now”; the two weren’t necessarily mutually exclusive, either.

In any case, an hour later, there he was with Jackson, trudging along a trail that forked off towards the Mountain. Lincoln had helped with that too, indicating the path that would take him to one of the entrances to the tunnel network. The hardest part, Lincoln and Clarke had both warned him, was that the tunnels gently sloped this way and that so it was sometimes hard to keep his bearings.

Dr. Jackson tapped his arm. “Bellamy? I’m going to break off and hunt around here for a bit. See those bushes? I think I saw something like those leaves in my field guide when I was studying it earlier.”

Bellamy stopped and regarded the doctor for a moment. He looked a bit ill at ease, and he couldn’t exactly blame the man. Travelling at night with only a handgun and a few odds and ends in a backpack wasn’t really good odds for survival if the wrong kind of beast or being came at you, but you couldn’t spot glowing trees and bushes during the day. The one near the dropship, Bellamy remembered, had been the most memorable but there were other patches here and there he’d seen off to the sides of the trails he’d gone on with Clarke.

“You sure you’re all right, though?” Bellamy asked.

Jackson seemed to be peering around looking for something, but jerked his head to look at Bellamy again when he spoke. “Yeah, yeah. You go on.” He nodded and let out a weak laugh. “Nice disguise, that hood.”

Bellamy let out a grunt, then waved. “All right. See you… um, whenever, I guess. I can’t tell you exactly where I’m going, but it’s important.”

“Gotcha.”

With that, Bellamy continued trudging on, looking this way and that from time to time, trying to keep his breaths shallow and his steps light. He had Raven’s compact tone generator in his coat pocket, ready at a moment’s reach, but as far as he could tell, he was the only one for probably a kilometer or two around.

The trail he’d been told to take seemed relatively poorly travelled, since he frequently found the trail narrowing and widening irregularly, so he brushed against bushes and trees from time to time, wincing when the rustling would get too loud for his liking.

On one of the wider parts of the pathway, a sharp crack in the distance stilled Bellamy instantly; he whipped his head around, his ears keenly seeking the direction the sound had come from. The trail curved a bit to the right in the forward direction, but he could see a fair ways back the way he came. Off to his left and right all he could make out were more trees and bushes past the two tall trees near him.

His heart thudding loudly against his chest, his breaths coming fast and lightly, Bellamy took a cautious step forward down the trail. At that instant, a loud roar and heavy thumps heralded two large, bulky Reapers wielding a lit torch rushing towards him!

Bellamy’s heart leapt into his throat as he frantically scrabbled in his coat pocket for his tone generator, backpedalling furiously before he tripped and fell on his left side with a heavy thump. Seconds later, two large fur-coated, demonic-looking Reapers stood over him, their swords at the ready—Bellamy’s right hand in his pocket clenched around the cylinder, yanking it out as his thumb rammed the button home!

The harsh loud buzzing had a sudden, visceral effect as the two Reapers fell heavily to their knees, clutching their heads as they recoiled from the tone, the torch forgotten in the middle of the pathway. Bellamy scrambled to his feet and raced pell-mell down the trail, his breaths coming in loud pants and sweat pouring off his forehead as he raced away from the Reapers.

A few minutes later, he staggered to a halt, his shoulder colliding with a tall tree trunk. He belatedly remembered the tone generator and let his thumb off the contact, stilling the air around him into silence once more. Bellamy’s breaths came in heavy gasps as he swiped his sleeve across his forehead, then shoved the tone generator in his pocket.

He barely registered the Reapers’ shouts in the distance, only desiring to keep going as fast as he could. He quickly oriented himself, risking the use of a flashlight to quickly check his map before resuming his path to the Mountain.

Thankfully, he encountered no more Reapers on his way to the tunnels.

The forbidding and dangerous dark tunnel entrance in the pale moonlight loomed before Bellamy. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled as he stepped gingerly, closer and closer past the few nearby narrow-trunked trees toward the noiseless tunnel beyond.

It felt unnatural. Not even the whisper of a sound echoed out of the tunnel mouth. Even the brush and moss above the entrance were still, not moving even as a slight breeze shook the leaves of the tallest nearby trees, trees that soared up above his head and filtered out most of the moonlight.

He licked his lips, only belatedly realizing his throat had gone dry. He got a small water bottle out of his backpack and quickly took a sip, then replaced it. He rubbed his hands on his pants, trying not to think about how they trembled as he thought, Octavia would’ve hated this even more than me. But, he reminded himself, she would’ve gone in anyway if I’d asked her. ‘Cause she always trusted me to keep her safe.

Bellamy took a deep breath, fortifying himself as much as he could. He reached into his other coat pocket and withdrew one of Raven’s special flashlights – those nearly pencil-thin jobs that they’d used before on the trip to get Finn. Carefully shining it against the ground to keep the light from scattering and giving away his location, he quickly took in the corridor ahead and began walking in, crouching a bit as he did, extending his right hand to touch the rocky wall. He let the flashlight go dark again, and with only his fingers brushing the surface beside him to give him any directional sense, plunged into the underworld, just as his mother had read to him of Odysseus’s journey.

Lincoln’s voice echoed through his head: “They tagged me ‘Cerberus’. Put me through this nasty decontamination. And then … you know the rest.”

Cerberus, Bellamy mused. An ironically appropriate name for guardians of this place.

Bellamy would later figure he had probably spent the better part of seven to eight hours getting to the tunnel opening, thanking the fates – or whatever – that no acid fog had hit that night; in fact, he wondered, it was a little unusual for him not to even hear the horn that pre-emptively warned of it.

At the moment, forging ahead through the tunnel by slow dead reckoning, his hands and feet his only guides to tell him of any rises, drops, or crossways in his path (aside from risky momentary glances at his tunnel map, shielding the light as much as he could while he got his bearings), it began to seem as though he would be on this journey forever.

The first sign that he was on the right path for sure was when his foot caught something and he nearly tripped. As Bellamy regained his footing, he quickly checked his map again; the stray glimmerings of the light revealed to him he had merged with another, larger tunnel, and he was on top of what appeared to be the rails that Clarke had mentioned.

And indeed, when he let his light go dark again, shoving the flashlight in his pocket, he noticed that dimly, in the distance, there seemed to be weak electric lighting. Letting a rising sense of danger guide him, Bellamy adjusted his hood, tugging it further over his forehead. He kept his head down, walking at a steady pace as he kept his feet always on the wooden crossbraces to keep from rattling loose rocks on either side of the railway bed.

The first dull red-orange lightbulb that Bellamy passed let him see that he was moving by a small gathering-place on his left; a blackened barrel stood near some rickety-looking chairs, and what looked like a charred bone lay against the far wall, thrown casually by one of the Reapers. Bellamy shivered as a blast of cold went through him, even though he was sweating a bit, warm with the effort of walking. Cannibalism confirmed, he thought sardonically, picking up his pace to leave the gruesomely ominous reminder of Reapers behind him.

The first sign that he was close to his destination was when he noticed the long pathway now forking in a few directions. One of the exits to his left was still level with the tracks he was on now; in fact, he’d been quite lucky, with the railway only gently rising or falling with the slope of the tunnel. But another exit, he saw, veered off to the right and then took a distinct slope upwards. And a third exit, still level with the tracks he was on, could be seen looping back around off to his right.

Clarke, he remembered, had told him he could either take the upsloping railway (and risk a Reaper railcart going the other way smacking into him and injuring him badly), or there was a ladder that went up through a small connecting tunnel bored for the purpose; the danger there was that if caught, he might not be able to escape.

Bellamy sighed to himself and flicked his eyes between carrying on down the level pathway or risking the rise. Finally, he decided, since he had seen no Reapers at all in the tunnels (another strange occurrence), he would risk the upslope.

As his legs strained against the definite climb (about as bad as some of the steeper trails he’d gone along, he thought), he could make out the other end of the tunnel: two wide double doors marked the final end of his journey, and even as the path levelled out as he approached, one of them swung open. He leaped off to one side, his back against the rough rocky wall as he fixed his eyes on the figure exiting, which clearly wore a greenish hazmat/radiation suit.

A slightly tinny, but clearly female, voice, hesitantly called, “Are you the one from the Ark? I’m Maya.”

Bellamy barked back, “Tell me who would have sent me here.”

The figure in the suit stepped cautiously towards him, revealing a girl about as tall as Clarke (maybe a bit taller in the shoes of the suit she wore) with brown or black hair just visible on her forehead. Once she was within talking distance, she whispered, “Clarke Griffin. Now please, hurry! The video surveillance is down for some reason, but I don’t know how long it’ll stay that way. It’s already nearly one in the morning.”

Bellamy let himself go boneless for a moment, his loud sigh of relief accompanying the draining away of his tension. He blurted, “My name is Bellamy. Bellamy Blake.”

But he only permitted himself that small moment of relief and quickly stood tall again, keeping pace with Maya as she let him into the sparsely-lit decontamination chamber. The first thing she did was hold out a black bag that was a bit bigger than his backpack. “I thought ahead, and remembered some of the protocols we use for the outside observers’ electrical items. Anything you want me to keep safe for you, drop it in here. The things in your backpack need to go in separately; you have to throw out any food or water.” She gestured at special rubbish container with a tight-fitting lid, clearly designed to block radioactivity.

Bellamy wasted no time dropping in his flashlight, tone generator, and the contents of his entire backpack (unneeded parachute plus the all-important encrypted radio). Then, as for his water bottle, he uncapped it and drained it out into the garbage before tossing the bottle in too, followed by the rations (he’d been so keyed up he hadn’t been able to eat anyway). Atfer all that, he shoved his backpack into Maya’s decontamination bag, pushing hard to make everything fit. He said, “I need to have that radio with me. It’s encrypted so we’ll be able to talk to the Ark and if anyone’s listening they’ll think the signal is still being jammed.”

Maya expertly resealed the bag and explained, “We have a decontamination system just for things like this. I’ll show you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Maya coughed and seemed a bit uncomfortable. “Um, the next thing you need to do is take off all your clothes – and I do mean all. I’ll try to clean them for you, but I might have to discard them. I also can’t risk you setting off all the radiation monitors, so we need to get you externally decontaminated as well.” When Bellamy balked at that, she hastened on, saying, “Don’t worry. I got some spare clothing from my father. He’s lost some height and some old clothes of his don’t fit anymore.”

Bellamy half-turned away from Maya and made quick work of his coat and various articles of clothing, folding them roughly then shoving them in a separate bag Maya held out, not daring to look too long at her. Once finished, he quickly stepped onto the metal flooring that ran along the entire decontamination chamber. Maya followed suit, pointing him to a part of the floor that had a grating below, through which water could clearly fall. He tried to swallow down his discomfort, keeping his back to Maya.

Bellamy wasn’t unaware of the fact that he was attractive to women (and men, too, admittedly); after all, all the girls he’d been with on the ground had been rather complimentary about various assets of his.

But this was so clinical. And the poor lighting shining off the faded metal surface, combined with the various unfamiliar implements hanging off both walls only added to his uneasiness. At this point, Maya could still save her own skin and call for the guards, counting on his clothesless condition to slow his reflexes.

But Maya was already speaking, breaking into his thoughts as her voice, a bit higher-pitched with worry, sounded through the speaker in her face shield. “We have to work fast now. I’m going to spray you with a special soap, and then use a strong spray of lukewarm water.” He turned his head slightly, and out the corner of his eye, he saw Maya hesitate. “Um, I really don’t know if this helps, but I’ve had to help do manual decon of some of our people before. Nobody likes it when it happens, though.”

Bellamy sighed and closed his eyes. “Let’s get to work. Can you tell me about what’s going on? I need to keep my mind off this shit.”

Maya let out what sounded like a small gasp of relief. “Even my father can’t help make sense of any of this, and he’s been too nervous to go out into the corridors unless he has to. He told me the President was practically barricaded in his office for a few hours earlier today; he’s friends with some of the security guards. He almost wouldn’t even let me come here, even though I switched shifts with Cora so I’d have a reason to be out here this late. He says he’ll be sneaking you back to our quarters, and give you a map and anything else you need if he can get it.”

By now, the foamy spray hitting Bellamy ceased. Maya ordered, “Scrub yourself completely. After you finish, I’ll do the warm water spray.”

Bellamy kept his eyes closed, relieved to be able to do something instead of standing there feeling like a donkey (or some other suitable Earth animal), and got to work. He hesitated at a few spots on his body, and Maya called, “I’m turning around now, okay?”

He could hear her shuffling her feet, and finished the necessary scrubbing. He announced, “Done.”

More shuffling of her feet. “Okay. Stand still. The spray is stronger.”

Even so, Bellamy nearly jumped as the warm water spray hit his back, then his head, and then circled around him. Thankful for the dim light, he consoled himself with the fact that she wouldn’t see his cheeks flushing as the warm water hit his front.

Soon, however, every part of him was now clean of any radioactivity. Maya instructed, “I’m going to ask you to move to the air dryer. If you can open your eyes, do so. Move until you’re standing in the white circle.”

Bellamy rubbed away the water from his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He spotted the white circle; above it was a large cone that flared out from the ceiling. He quickly stepped into the circle.

The roar of air that hit him immediately afterward nearly deafened him, but it only lasted some ten or fifteen seconds; he was totally dry after that, except for some slight dampness in his hair.

Maya called out, “Almost done. You will be in clothes again soon.”

They were now near another set of double doors, which Bellamy could see led into an area that seemed lit in sickly-green. Maya gestured him to a clear package in which he could see articles of clothing, and relief flooded him as he quickly got them on. The pants were all right, if a bit short in the legs, and the long-sleeved cotton shirt felt a bit tight across his chest. The shoes were a bit of a challenge, but, reasoned Bellamy, he wouldn’t be wearing them forever.

In the meantime, as he paced in front of the doors, he saw that Maya had lifted the lid off a greyish box and was removing a hose from it to connect to a special attachment on the bag she was carrying his backpack items in. Once the attachment was secure, she reached over to the lever on the side of the grey box and pulled it forward. A short roar and hiss of gas echoed through the decon chamber, after which Maya then shoved the lever all the way backward. Another roar, and the bag visibly deflated, showing the lumps of his various items. Of course, realized Bellamy. Probably a special gas, and then a vacuum to suck the gas out along with any contaminants captured by the gas.

Sure enough, when Maya returned the lever to its original position, the bag slowly went loose again, and after disconnecting the attachment hose, she carefully opened the bag. She instructed, “Reach inside and get all your things. You’re clean, but my suit is not so I can’t hand them to you.”

Bellamy quickly reassembled his backpack, and said, “What about my clothes?”

Maya, now having put the empty backpack-items bag on a nearby rack bearing other similar bags, hefted his clothes bag and said, “I’ll put them through the usual clothes decon. We have to be careful about contaminated clothes.” She gestured to one wall; a round flap covered a chute. On the flap read CLOTHES DISPOSAL. “That goes to final sorting. If the clothes are undamaged, they’re completely cleaned and returned to general stock. If not, they’re burned outside.”

With that, Maya dropped the bag containing all of Bellamy’s old clothes down the chute. Bellamy tried not to let the sinking feeling in his stomach show, and quickly focused on another subject. “You’ve been hinting that something big is going on. What’s wrong?”

Maya lifted a finger. “One moment.” She quickly raced over to another part of the decontamination chamber which also had a grated floor, closed a few valves on her suit, and then hit a switch on the wall. Even from about ten meters away, the water that roared down on her from a showerhead above her was truly impressive in its volume and intensity. About half a minute later, the water stopped and Maya stepped back over to him, twisting a few valves on her suit before finally getting out of it.

As Maya stood before him, wearing a worn-looking brown sweater that emphasized a chest like Clarke’s, as well as brown pants that flattered her lower body, he mentally high-fived Jasper. But all Bellamy said was, “Clarke warned that you should keep a suit like that somewhere safe, have as much air in it as you can keep. And one for your dad too, if you can manage it. Can you do that?”

Maya’s eyes widened. “Bellamy, how bad is it going to get? Look, I need to tell you—” She raced forward, gripping Bellamy’s elbows. Her jaw shook slightly as she spoke. “I don’t know it all. I j-just know rumors have been swirling around about a confrontation between President Wallace and his son, and the surveillance system went down just after I heard they found Harper, and there’s been security people going door to door for the last few hours now. I’ve just been telling all the security officers who I come across I’m on shift for decon and I don’t want to cause any trouble. They’ve all been believing me so far, and at least Cora can back me up on the shift change.”

“Shit,” breathed Bellamy. The situation might not be stable enough, he thought, to be able to move around undetected.

But he had to try.

“Get me in there anyway. We’re getting our people back, Maya, one way or another, and I have to do my part!” Bellamy hissed.

Maya gulped, nodded, and opened the double doors leading into the inner chamber. As he stepped inside, taking in the sheer magnitude and size of the prisoners’ chamber, Bellamy stopped and stared, appalled. Cage after cage lined the circular walls and the exit chamber beyond.

“Clarke wasn’t joking,” muttered Bellamy. He looked at Maya, who wouldn’t look him in the eye. She was reaching for him, urging him along.

Bellamy dug his heels in and said, “Maya, look at me, damnit.”

Maya looked at him, her eyes glistening as she blinked rapidly. In a low, choked voice, she said, “What do you want me to do? Release them all now? I can’t. I’d get caught and thrown outside, or executed. And they all have locator beacons injected into them. The security troops will just recapture them all within a couple of days and I’ll have accomplished nothing!” Maya spat. “At least my mother was brave enough to refuse the treatments. Now come,” she growled.

Even so, Bellamy couldn’t look away from the prisoners, some barely awake, others staring at him avidly as they jabbered to each other in their language – Trigedasleng, Clarke had called it. She and Lincoln had helped him with some basic phrases, but these people in the cages spoke too fast; he only caught bits and pieces of words he recognized.

By now, they were now on the other side of the circular chamber, pacing along the central walkway lined with more cages. Ahead of Bellamy was a kind of T-shaped device that held up two people. Tubes stuck out of them, and he stopped suddenly. He gestured and said, “That’s the…?”

Maya nodded.

Bellamy’s mouth thinned and he resumed walking, looking left and right as he did so. At the end, on the right in one of the upper cages, a woman about his age (as near as he could tell) stared at him with a dignified-seeming bearing, her brown eyes radiating sharp, fierce intelligence. She had brownish-blonde hair and, like the other prisoners, Bellamy could see she had small band-aid patches on her arms and shoulders, and wore bindings that sufficed for modesty and not much else.

Even in prison, he marvelled, some people can be beautiful.

He stopped and said, “Um… chon, uh, yu bilaik?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Maunon laik trigchicha?”

Bellamy shook his head. “No. Uh, no, not Mountain. Ai Skayon. Ai laik Belomi. Kom Skaikru.”

“Sky People?” breathed the woman. “I have been hearing stories about your people from the new Trikru. The truce by Heda. Rumors of an alliance, as well. You are here to free us?”

Bellamy nodded. “I promise. I’m here to help fight the Mountain Men.”

She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed as she frowned. “I had thought I would die here. And yet, a Sky Person, no less, may help me escape and live…” She nodded, seemingly to herself. “I am Echo. Ai laik Ekkou kom Azgeda.”

“The Ice Nation?” wondered Bellamy.

Echo favored him with a small smile. “I see you have learned something about us. You have only met Trikru so far, yes?”

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah. We landed in their territory.”

Maya tugging on Bellamy’s arm made him realize only then, even as he looked away, that he’d been holding Echo’s gaze with one of his own. He lifted his finger. “One second, please.” To Echo, he said, “I promise – I don’t know what to swear on, but I will come back and free you and your people here.”

Echo nodded, her bearing almost regal even in the horrific cage. She said, “I will hold you to that promise, Bellamy of the Sky People.”

Bellamy didn’t know quite why he did it, but he lifted his hand and pressed it against the cage; somehow … it felt right. Echo, at first hesitant, lifted her hand as well and pressed it against his, her fingertips touching his own. Her hand was slightly cooler than his to the touch. Bellamy smiled at Echo, then stepped away. Echo, in turn, sat back in her cage and gave Bellamy a sharp nod. “Go. Fight for us. And come back for us.”

With that, he and Maya quickly went to the next set of double doors. Maya warned, “These doors go to Medlab. Dr. Tsing should be asleep by now, and any patients should be sedated. But just in case, be prepared to hide. I’m going through first.”

Maya squared her shoulders, attempting a confidence she clearly didn’t really feel, pasted on a smile, and stepped through the door, leaving Bellamy standing for a moment to take in the clean yet utterly gruesome blood-drawing setup. The insensate Grounders hung down, almost as though they were merely giant bags of blood to be dispensed to the next patient to come along.

Any further thought was shelved as Maya called through the door, “It’s safe. Come with me.”

They quickly stepped through the quiet Medlab; only two beds held patients, both of whom were clearly in deep sleep. At the wide metal door leading to the corridor outside, Maya reached out, holding Bellamy’s arm. She whispered, “My father is waiting inside one of the supply rooms. They’re never checked at night, and he got in through one of the large vents and an area that’s being renovated. The complex is far larger than it needed to be, but… anyway, that’s not important right now. The point is, the most dangerous part is coming up. We need to walk out of here, go left around the corner, and the first door on the left. It’s about fifty feet total. My access card gets me in anywhere related to decon, plus the elevator, and that closet has decontamination supplies. Like I said, I’ve been hearing the security cams went down for some reason, but just in case—keep your head down and walk against the wall under the camera. Everybody kind of knows everybody here.”

Bellamy took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Maya slowly opened the door, stuck her head out, and gestured to Bellamy. As they slipped through and walked along the corridor, coming up to the corner, Maya grabbed Bellamy and shoved him against the wall nearest the turn to the left. Loud footsteps could be heard echoing dimly from the corridor, and Bellamy and Maya both chanced a glance around. Maya clasped her hand over her mouth, stifling her gasp of shock.

What Bellamy saw was a blue-suited man about ten, fifteen meters down the corridor, his back to Bellamy, facing a tall, white-haired man wearing a grey suit. Flanking both men were several heavily-armed security guards, their guns pointed at one another across the short distance separating them.

The tall white-haired man barked, “Cage Wallace, what the hell is this?! You were confined to the isolation wing under my direct orders!” To the four guards on either side of Cage, he called, “This is treason, and I will have you arrested along with this… this jumped-up upstart who thinks he can seize my office!”

Cage, a sneer evident in his voice, said, “Too bad enough of the men are loyal to me, Dad, because I can get them to the ground – I have the guts to do what you won’t!”

Oh, fuck, realized Bellamy. That’s Dante and Cage Wallace!

If ever he had jumped from the frying pan into the fire, this occasion certainly qualified for Bellamy Blake.

Chapter Text

Dante, also flanked by four guards, snapped back to Cage, “Guts? You have the nerve to call me weak for having you locked up for crossing a line I told you not to cross?! I saw that girl, Harper, when you finally dragged her into my office just after your two hours were up.” Dante snorted. “Oh, you and Tsing put on a good show, of course – you’d cleaned her up and probably told her you’d have her killed if she told me what had really happened to her! But I could tell, Cage. It was written all over her face as plain as day, the way she looked at you, the bruises still under her eyes – you and Tsing did something so horrible—”

“You mean I took a necessary step!” roared Cage.

Bellamy involuntarily jerked back as the guards all jumped slightly at Cage’s outburst. Maya, just in front of him, let out a low, shuddering wheeze.

“And that kind of driving unprincipled ambition of yours is exactly why I locked myself up in my office just after I had my guards take you and that quack away to be locked up in isolation! I knew you had suborned some of the security people – I didn’t know who, but I had to find people loyal to me; I barely managed to find enough of them to muster a strong enough force against your own. And then to my utter unsurprise, Cage—” Bellamy could just see Dante’s shoulders sink as the older man sighed and shook his head in resignation.

Dante resumed speaking. “—when I sent some men to pull the camera footage to find my assistant, Keenan, what should have transpired but that the entire security surveillance network experienced a convenient catastrophic failure, requiring disassembly of one of the mainframe storage computers? I had to send my men to work combing this entire complex for the last several hours, and I just got word they cannot find Keenan Mykulak anywhere in the active areas of this complex. What have you got to say for yourself now, Cage?!” Dante shook his finger in Cage’s face. “I know it in my bones: she was one of your ‘necessary steps’, wasn’t she? I saw the look on your face when we stood outside: you’d found your drug and you were hooked!” Dante shook his head, this time in sorrow. “No, Cage, we’ve done enough. Whatever you’re planning, it ends here. Those children will go home at first dawn in a few hours, and you and all you’ve suborned will go on trial for treason!”

Cage laughed, his loud, nasty, nearly cackling laugh echoing up and down the corridor. “And you think you can sway me and my men with words? You said it yourself, old man: it’s in the bones. The bone marrow of every one of those forty-seven teenagers is our ticket out, and I intend to have us on the ground in two weeks with it!”

Maya backed up, thudding against Bellamy. She turned around to look at him, her face ashen. “Jasper! No!” she whispered. He half-consciously wrapped his arms around her, giving her someone to hold onto even as his body quivered and his heart hammered in his chest. They should – they must – get away, and yet, to hear the two would-be leaders of the Mountain reveal so much…

Dante’s weary reply, low though his voice was, carried yet through the corridor. “My god, Cage, what have you done?”

“You hear that, men?” called Cage. “Lower your weapons and join me. You’ll be among the first to go to the ground with no suit – no fear of radiation, ever again. I am the future, and you know it, gentlemen.”

“Don’t!” roared Dante. “Cage, I saw what you allowed to happen to that girl, Harper. I saw the way she looked at you before I had you taken away. You will turn us into the worst kind of devils, Cage, to strike such monstrous terror into the hearts of those children! The ground is not worth the loss of our humanity!”

“I’ve had enough!” yelled Cage, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. “Men! You are authorized to use lethal force!”

“S-sir?” a hesitant voice echoed in Bellamy’s ears.

Bellamy looked down at Maya, who clutched at his shoulders like a lifeline. He patted her back and whispered, “If we have to go, can we sneak anywhere without your access card?”

Maya shook her head no as she replied, her voice quavering and weak. “Not on this level.”

Before Bellamy could answer, Dante was already barking, “Enough of this farce, Cage. You men – you may also use lethal force! I am your President, and I will have my word obeyed in Mount Weather!”

Bellamy peeked out just far enough to be able to catch the scene.

The security guards all stood lightly on the balls of their feet as though trying to physically work off the tension that fairly sizzled in the air around them.

Nobody quite moved.

And then one of Cage’s men twitched.

One of Dante’s men flinched.

Dante’s eyes went wide as he shifted to one side.

“Hold your fire!” “Hold your fire!”

Dante’s and Cage’s simultaneously shouted orders were too late by a fraction of a second.

Bellamy leaped back and slammed his back against the wall, Maya lunging for him at the same instant.

The hallway roared with the reports of guns blasting their bullets up and down the corridor, petrifying Bellamy and Maya in place as the battle raged for what seemed like several minutes.

Finally, the guns fell silent and pained moans rose up from the people who’d just been in a shootout.

Someone scrambled to their feet, their shoes clacking against the floor. “Dad? Dad?! Damnit, who shot him?! His shoulder’s bleeding!” howled Cage.

Someone else groaned as they stirred. A couple of hesitant footsteps, then, “I have no idea, sir. Look, we should get him into the room you were in. There’s a hospital bed, Tsing’s still in the room next to you. She can help can get him patched up. Some of the men will need checking on, too, Mr. President.”

“Yes – yes, of course. Come on, do it, right away, now. I need to make sure he’s all right!” Cage’s voice wobbled uncertainly.

A low wheeze accompanied the old man’s voice as it floated through the corridor. “Cage, I could’ve forgiven… a lot. But this—I can’t. And you’re not ready to be the Presid…”

“Damn it! He fainted! Help, get him up, now!” Cage cursed, and shortly after, numerous footsteps clattered down the hallway towards the isolation wing.

Bellamy let his head fall back against the wall behind him, heaving a sigh of relief. Maya, her sigh rising to join his, stepped back from him, her hands shaking. “Oh my god, Bellamy! Cage shot his father! Or, well, his troops did, but he—”

Bellamy shook himself, reminding himself he had only limited time left before someone came back. “Maya, we need to focus. Can we get in that closet now?”

Maya nodded jerkily, tugging Bellamy around the corner. He could see spent shotgun shells scattered around, and some red blobs on the floor here and there. He almost thought he could catch a warm metallic smell from that direction, but quickly turned to the door, which Maya was now focusing on to the deliberate exclusion of all else. A swipe of her access card later, and they were inside!

As soon as the door shut, a light clicked on, and a worried brown-haired man in his mid-forties stared at Maya; he was about the same height as her. He groaned, “Sweetie, please tell me you didn’t hear that unholy—”

Maya launched herself at the man, throwing her arms around him. “Dad, it was horrible! Cage’s men shot President Wallace and took him away!”

“They – did they execute him?!” The man’s eyes widened in shock as he hesitantly put his arms around his daughter.

“No,” Maya replied, her voice muffled as she buried her face against her father’s shoulder. “Someone aimed in the wrong direction – President Wallace has a shoulder injury.”

“Jesus!” whispered the man. To Bellamy, he said, “I’m sorry this isn’t the best time for introductions, but I’m Vincent, Maya’s father. We need to get you out of this place, now. I’m not gonna be happy until we’re all back in quarters.”

Bellamy blurted, “I gotta contact my people. This is vital. Can you get us into the art room from here?”

In the light, Bellamy could see the sheen of sweat already present on Vincent’s brow. He pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, then slowly released his daughter. “Honey, if you think he can’t wait until about six—”

Maya shook her head. “No, Dad. He and his people – they might be our way out. Out of needing the treatments, out of having to live like this knowing we need to bleed people to stay alive and too cowardly to do what Mom did. And I don’t want any more people to die for me – Cage killed Keenan in some kind of test and we didn’t know each other that well but she was a nice girl and now Jasper might—”

Vincent stared, appalled. “What?”

Maya nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

After a few moments, Vincent spoke again. In a lower, deliberately soothing tone, he said, “You need to know, Maya, I couldn’t follow your mother and leave you all alone. You were just—”

Maya nodded, wiping her eyes and standing a bit taller as she regained herself. “I understand, Dad. But I think Bellamy’s right. He should call his people now before we get him hidden away. I don’t want Jasper to die for me, Dad.”

Vincent checked his watch, blinking a bit blearily. “God, it’s already past two o’clock in the morning. I’m gonna have to call in sick in a few hours and hope they don’t think it’s radiation.” He sighed and slapped his hands against his hips. “Okay, son. Let’s get you on your way. Follow me. Maya, stay with me; I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

And with that, Vincent beckoned them over to a far corner of the room, where a large round vent cover was propped up against the wall next to an opening big enough to allow a person to crawl through if they were thin enough. Maya went first, followed by Bellamy. Once they were a bit of a ways down the vent pathway, Vincent whispered, “Hope you’ve got a flashlight. I have to kill the light in here and I think mine’s about ready to go dead from checking my watch so many times.”

Before long, Vincent, gripping Bellamy’s penlight, was guiding them through the hidden nooks and crannies of Mount Weather, only pausing at crossways and ladders to consider which way to take next. Once in the art room, Maya got the painting down that covered the hole in the wall, revealing Jasper’s radio assembly.

Recalling Sinclair’s and Raven’s instructions, Bellamy was able to work out how Jasper’s radio had been connected to the antenna, and was able to patch the new radio in. He set it to the correct frequency and pressed the talk button on the radio.

“Bellamy Blake urgently calling anyone at Alpha Station; please respond!”

Clarke’s eyes had nearly fluttered shut as she sat on the stool next to the radio in Raven’s mechanic shop, preset to the Arkwide channel with the new crypto chip mounted as well. Raven herself lay on her bed, but clearly wasn’t sleeping, contrary to her reassurance that she could sleep even with the lights on.

At the moment Bellamy called, though, Clarke’s eyes flew wide open and her hand jerked out to snatch up the microphone. She plunged the speaker contact home and barked, “Bellamy! What’s wrong? We weren’t expecting you to have to call in until morning.”

The noises at Clarke’s right shoulder told her Raven had already swung herself off the bed and had risen to stand near her. Raven’s reassuring grip on Clarke’s shoulder helped her slow her breathing, reminding her she needed to be ready to think clearly.

Bellamy’s voice sounded out of the speaker. “It’s gone sideways in here. Dante and Cage Wallace met each other outside of Medlab and they had guards with them. They got into a shootout, and Dante’s injured!”

Raven’s gasp, revealing her wide-eyed shock, mirrored the jolt through Clarke’s body as she stared at the radio.

What the hell had she done?!

In all honesty, Clarke realized she would never quite know, although at least one thing was explained about the communications to the outside observers: Cage must have been carefully recalling ‘his’ people to bolster his numbers and making sure Dante’s sympathizers were sidelined or sent out of the mountain.

And in any case, Clarke thought, The Mountain Men would’ve inevitably have done things differently, not knowing of the alliance between the Sky People and Tree People. And so Cage and Dante would’ve each done different things, said things differently—

“Okay,” replied Clarke. “If they talked – if they said anything important—”

Bellamy relayed what Clarke judged must be the barest sketch, given that it had gone past two-thirty in the morning, and he was probably in need of sleep. Cage and Dr. Tsing had grabbed Harper to steal some of her bone marrow; Dante had found out, had Cage arrested, and was preparing to send the forty-seven teens back home when he’d apparently gotten suspicious enough to go back to isolation to check on Cage, only to find out Cage had suborned the guards there and was ready to relaunch his coup. Dante himself was now being treated and was probably going to be kept under sedation for as long as Cage’s convenience required.

By now, Clarke’s mother and Kane were inside the mechanic shop, blinking the sleep out of their eyes as they heard the tail end of Bellamy’s message. Clarke nodded at them and quickly waved before returning to listen to Bellamy wrapping up.

As the radio fell silent, Raven spoke for the group as she growled, “What a stinking mess! And we sent him in there!”

Clarke shook her head. “No, Raven. I sent him in there. I pushed for him to be the inside man. I got him to agree to it. If anyone’s to blame—”

“Clarke, enough,” her mother called out. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for everything.”

Clarke stared back. If only you knew, mother. If you only knew what it cost the first time…

Clarke sighed and brushed some stray hairs out of her face. “Let’s focus on Bellamy. First priority is still eyes on my friends; make sure they are all right, yeah? Then try the missile, and take down the acid fog.”

Nods all around punctuated that. Kane chimed in, saying, “But Clarke – don’t have him take unnecessary risks. If he needs to hide out and take longer, he should do that. The situation in there is way too unstable, and I don’t like it.”

Abby’s fists clenched. “If we could just crack that damn Mountain open—!”

Clarke sighed and sat up. Raven rubbed Clarke’s back and gently squeezed Clarke’s shoulder. “You’ve got this,” Raven assured her.

Clarke pressed the button on the microphone and said, “We still want you to find out about the forty-seven. Call in every twelve hours, but no more than that, and don’t try anything risky. If they’re going on a heightened alert, the last thing we want them doing is checking for strange transmissions or any unusual activity. Coordinate with Maya’s father, see if you can come up with a plan to hide our friends because it might come to that now that they know about the bone marrow. Get to the missile silo, if you can. Whether you can or not, next priority is the acid fog. Your deadline is about three days from now; we can probably push it another day or two past that if needed, but any longer and the Grounders are going to start getting annoyed.”

“Will do,” was Bellamy’s only response as the radio clicked off.

Clarke set her radio microphone down and rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes and praying to whatever or whoever was listening that she hadn’t knocked over a set of dominoes that would end up killing Bellamy.

Chapter Text

After everybody had filtered out of Raven’s mechanic shop, Clarke heard, through the doors, a loud, sharp thumpCREAK that was clearly Raven collapsing into bed after a keyed-up night helping out with full-blast weapons production and then waiting, hour after hour, at the radio on the off chance Bellamy might call in before the morning on the next day (which he had in fact done).

Clarke, herself, wasn’t much better. She’d pitched in for a few hours until her hands were nearly numb duct-taping flashbang after flashbang (how and where Sinclair’s people had literally found an entire cubic-meter box of rolls of the silvery tape would, she was sure, be a story for the ages) and she had begged off around nine o’clock at night to work the radio.

By this time, nearing three in the morning, she was all too happy to flop onto her bed and let her eyes fall shut, plunging her into deep sleep.

Cage Wallace stood just a few feet away from Clarke, a nasty grin on his face as he gripped Lexa’s hair, yanking her head back so her neck was clearly exposed as he jammed the nose of his gun just under Lexa’s jaw.

“Your girlfriend gets it if you don’t take your hand off that lever!” barked Cage. Into Lexa’s ear, he hissed, “I know how fast you savages can fight. Make any move – any move at all – and I squeeze this trigger before you can disarm me.” Lexa stilled and fixed her gaze on Clarke.

Clarke looked around. She was somehow in the control room at Mount Weather, and Cage – why was Cage in front of her??? How had he stepped through the monitor? And Lexa! Wasn’t she safe, having cut the deal with Emerson?

Clarke then looked down, blinking as she saw her hand once again gripped that lever on the control board – the one lever that was all it took to murder not just Cage’s minions, but ordinary men, women and children—

“Clarke!” called Lexa. “Do not try to save me, ai niron. Do what you must.”

Clarke’s head snapped up. “Lexa, why – how—?”

“You don’t remember your wee widdle wovebird sneaking back to Mount Weather?” simpered Cage. His voice went low and menacing as he spat, “It would almost be cute if it hadn’t been so pathetic. My men caught her with tranq gas the moment she and a couple of her warriors came in through the top door.”

Clarke’s brain seemed to be jammed in neutral. This had never happe—the air sizzled; a dull roar grew louder in her ears as a blast of yellow light consumed the room and her with it—

Clarke’s eyes flew open in shock and she nearly threw herself out of her bed scrambling to sit up, her harsh, uneven breaths loud in her ears as she tried to regain her bearings. Oh, fuck. It’s getting worse, she groaned inwardly as she grabbed up the thin blanket on her bed and dragged it across her face to wipe the sweat off her forehead. I mean, what the actual hell was that?!

Clarke reminded herself, Lexa’s safe. Lexa’s alive and safe in some brown tent in the ass end of a clearing in the forest somewhere.

Clarke let out a heavy sigh, trying to envision the tension leaving her as her muscles reluctantly relaxed. She needed a shower, but, she decided as she slowly rose to her feet and stretched, she could use a morning run first to clear her head.

As Clarke stepped out of the Ark into the grey dawn, the cool morning air rushed around her. Her body shivered momentarily as she adjusted to the near-winter morning: it’s just the weather, she told herself.

As she launched into a steady run over the open grounds inside the fence, feeling the breeze against her face, Clarke shivered again. She repeated to herself, it’s just the cold air.

Almost an hour later, a freshly-showered Clarke, in some of Niylah’s traded clothes, looked at herself in the mirror. She sighed and peered closely at her eyes. Good, she thought. No obvious puffy bloodshot look, so people won’t start wondering.

Clarke couldn’t afford to have people wondering if she was up to helping run a secret war that was ready to build into high gear as soon as the Mountain’s defences were dropped. It was different for Kane and Abby; they were older, practically co-Chancellors. Clarke was a teenage girl that just happened, by dint of full support from Abby and Kane, to be in charge of quite a lot. And with Bellamy in the mountain, things were going to get hot, and soon.

And then there was Lexa – Lexa who had died in that other world. Why was Clarke’s mind playing yet another version of that ominous end for Lexa?

Clarke blinked rapidly and shook her head, ruthlessly shoving that nightmare aside, determined to focus on the upcoming day. If that asshole even so much as looks at Lexa or anyone the wrong way, I am siccing Octavia on him, trial or no trial.

Clarke stepped out of her room and nearly collided with her mother in the hallway. “Clarke!” Abby blurted. “I was on my way to check in with Sinclair and the Ark stripping teams.”

Clarke peered at her mother closely. Now her mother, she noticed, did have puffy eyes. “Mom, are you getting enough sleep?”

Abby blinked and yawned. She was still wearing her clothes from yesterday, Clarke realized. She reached out and held her mother’s arm lightly. “Mom, what happened?”

“Nothing, honey, I promise. Jackson just got me up early this morning to get more supplies. He said a rider on a horse took him part of the way from the dropship – Lexa’s doing, apparently.”

Clarke frowned. “And that meant he especially needed you to be awake instead of just hitting the medical tent for the bottles you’ve commandeered from the still?”

Abby reached up and rubbed her forehead, chuckling ruefully. “All right; I couldn’t get back to sleep after hearing Bellamy on the radio, and Jackson did come not long after you went to bed. He told me the two Reapers he and his team caught are safely inside the dropship, still sedated; after the initial injection of sedative wears off, he’ll start the use of ethanol injections to ease them through the withdrawal.” She smiled at Clarke. “Bellamy really lucked out finding those sedative packs!”

As in that other world, Clarke recalled, Bellamy had stumbled across an intact bomb-shelter bunker whose occupant had secreted away long-lasting medical supplies. The sedatives, in particular, had amazingly been intact and could be stored at room temperature. Several were the quick one-shot types similar in nature to kinds Clarke had seen on the Ark when her mother would need to sedate a patient quickly.

Any further conversation was cut off as one of the guards walked up to the pair. “Chancellor – Clarke – two Grounder riders are here.”

Clarke nodded. “I’ll take it from here.” As the guard nodded and left, she said to her mother, “I want to go with one of the riders to Lexa, as well. And when I get back, I think we should grab that outside observer today.”

Abby frowned. “Are you sure? Raven hasn’t reported anything about the Mount Weather communications.”

Clarke had been considering this on her morning run, and she replied, “Think about it. We know Dante’s been knocked over and Cage is the President. We also know Cage was probably trying to send all of Dante’s people out of the Mountain so Dante wouldn’t have as many people he could trust to help him out – which also explains why Bellamy didn’t see any acid fog. Make-work for Dante’s men checking up on all their Reapers.”

“So you think the person outside might be one of Dante’s men?”

Clarke grinned. “Exactly. And maybe we can use that somehow: how often the guard patrols rotate, how many security people they have, can we maybe divide and conquer by promising Dante his Presidency back if we fight Cage’s people—”

“Clarke!” expostulated her mother. “Are you seriously—” In a lower voice, she warned, “That gets very, very close to promising a separate peace.”

Clarke blinked, then realized what she’d been saying. “We’re not honor-bound, Mom. And we can tell the guy anything we want; it doesn’t mean we have to do it, especially if the Grounders never find out.”

Abby shook her head slowly, letting out a gust of air past her lips. “Tread carefully, Clarke.”

Oh, believe me, Mom, I know the cost of a separate peace.

Clarke, letting none of that show in her face, just smiled slightly at her mother and said, “I’m going to get the supply packs now. Can you make sure you, Sinclair or Kane stay on the radio in case Raven’s still asleep and Bellamy reports in before I get back?”

Abby nodded and quickly said her goodbyes to Clarke before moving on down the hallway.

Shortly after, Clarke was outside in the still-grey, overcast morning, in the open area of Camp Jaha. She handed a package up to a black-clad, mask-sporting rider on a tall black horse, and a similar package up to another rider, this one wearing a cloth over her (or his?) face to protect from the cold wind. She called, “Make sure you’ve learned how to use these.”

Both riders nodded solemnly, then jerked sharp glances to someone behind her. Clarke turned and saw Raven. “Hey! I thought you were still sleeping.”

Raven grinned. “Hey, yourself. And nah, I was up an hour ago. I think I just missed you when you picked up a couple of things.” She wore her usual red coat and some dark pants, but today she wore a shirt from Niylah’s clothes pile, and had a large, roomy backpack slung over one shoulder.

Clarke said to the warriors, “Can one of you take me somewhere?”

Both nodded. The masked one took a foot out of the stirrup on the left side of their horse, indicating Clarke should get up.

Raven said, “Hey, mind if I tag along? I need to go to Niylah’s trading post again.”

Clarke frowned. “You sure? It’s already getting pretty busy in the room in there.” She jerked her head back at the Ark.

Raven nodded. “Yeah. Wick’s riding herd on everybody for now and I spotted some circuit boards at her trading post I couldn’t fit in my bag last time. Plus, your mom caught up with me and said someone would be on the radio today if I needed to get anything done in the meantime.”

The other rider, wearing a cloth over their face, nodded to Raven and held an arm out for her to grab. Clarke similarly reached out, grabbing the masked one’s arm to help hoist herself up behind the rider. As she got securely settled in behind the person, she whispered, “Are you one of Heda’s?”

They nodded.

“Take me to her, please, but go with the other one part of the way,” Clarke said, again in a low voice. The warrior nodded and gave the other warrior a sharp gesture.

With that, Raven’s rider was off, and a few moments later, Clarke’s followed and they rapidly passed the open gate into the forest beyond.

Chapter Text

Clarke trudged past several tall trees, the faint shouts of the bandit-catcher troops echoing through the forest as she rather stolidly paced toward the small clearing she’d been told was not too far off the trail she and the rider had been following. The rider, who turned out to be a man, had only spoken to indicate the pathway before perking up at a distant short horn call. It was too short, Clarke recalled, to be the acid fog warning, so it must, she decided, be the way the bandit-catching gonas coordinated their teams.

Lexa’s tent poked up just above a dense thicket of trees and bushes that Clarke had to brush past just off the main pathway she was on, and soon she was in a small clearing, greeted by Talia, who grinned and said, “Sop, skaigada. Ha yu?”

“Ai ste os,” replied Clarke with a smile. “Heda kamp raun tiya reyon?”

“Sha.” Talia gestured at the tent, and Clarke went inside.

Lexa was seated on her bed, legs crossed in the same pose Clarke remembered her using in Polis when she communed with the past Commanders. Clarke quietly took a seat and took a moment to gaze at Lexa; her face showed quiet repose, lacking the solemn yet quiet intensity that usually accompanied Lexa’s gaze out at the world.

Clarke’s hands itched for a bit of charcoal and some paper, but she hadn’t thought to bring any, and had to content herself with the memory of drawing Lexa when she was asleep in her room in Polis. Maybe next time, Clarke decided as she sat in one of the chairs in the tent.

A few moments later, Lexa slowly opened her eyes. She stared at Clarke; for a moment, Clarke thought Lexa might give her one of her characteristic small smiles, but instead, Lexa pursed her lips briefly as she shifted to uncross her legs. As she sat down next to Clarke, her expression had returned to her usual slightly intense look.

“It is good to see you here, Clarke,” said Lexa.

“Same,” Clarke replied. She couldn’t quite shake the sensation that she was pushing against a barrier as she talked to Lexa, and adjusted her coat unnecessarily as she shifted in her chair.

Lexa shifted in her chair as well as she regarded Clarke more closely. “Are there any changes you wish to inform me about?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” said Clarke. “There’ve been some unusual things going on in the mountain – that much we can tell, but how much of that will be of use to you, I’m not sure.”

“My meeting with Bekka Pramheda and the other Commanders has—” Lexa sighed as she broke off, considering as she looked off to one side. She crossed her legs and brushed at an imaginary speck of dust on her pants. With some effort, she resumed, “—been less than productive. I have been hoping to gain some insights in fighting Maun-de, but so far…” She looked at Clarke and pursed her lips, spreading her hands in silent acknowledgement of the lack of success.

Clarke nodded. “We will win, Lexa, but it’s going to take careful work all around. Bellamy’s in the Mountain now, and it’s up to him not to get caught. Without sabotage from within—”

“—And that is why it concerns me that the past Commanders yield no insights,” Lexa interjected. She paused, then blurted, “There is also—”, then clamped her jaw shut.

“What, Lexa?” wondered Clarke.

After a few moments of silence, Lexa shrugged. “It would be pointless to discuss this. If you would not mind, I suggest that you continue your training with Talia.”

With that, Lexa rose and went to a small travel bag at the foot of her bed, reaching inside to extract something from it – which turned out to be a book.

Clarke, standing as well, frowned in puzzlement. “What’s with the book?”

Lexa came back to Clarke, reached out and put her hand on Clarke’s right shoulder. “I hope you won’t take offence at my dismissal, but I would like to take some time away from my meditations, and you have things you need to do.”

“But—” uttered Clarke.

“Please, Clarke.” Regret crossed Lexa’s face as she blinked rapidly. “We can have more time later, when we are closer to initiating the final steps in our war preparations.”

“All right, Lexa – but please, don’t shut me out, okay?” pleaded Clarke as she reached to grasp Lexa’s elbow.

Lexa released Clarke’s shoulder and briefly took her hand before stroking the book cover. Clarke peered down at it and saw faded printing on the spine: Beowulf in Translation.

A pang shot through Clarke as she remembered Wells, so long ago it seemed, telling her about the legends in that book, his excitement vivid in her memory as he related how even the translated version he’d read swept him up in its saga of dragon-slaying and hand to hand combat (he’d attempted the Old English original, too, but had had to give up after a couple of paragraphs). Clarke gave Lexa a wistful smile, and quietly said, “I’d like to talk to you about that book one day. A – a good friend of mine liked it a lot.”

“It is not easy to read, even for one of us who knows gonasleng – and aside from the Fleimkipa and Natblidas there are few of us who know the written version of it in any case.” Lexa stared down at the book cover, then let out a heavy sigh. “We can discuss this book another time.” She looked up at Clarke, her neutral expression making her dismissal clear.

Clarke nodded, gave Lexa a small half-smile, then went to go train with Talia again.

Clarke’s back hit the ground for the umpteenth time that day, and she finally had had enough. Wheezing, she called, “Beja, Talia! Em pleni gon ai nau!”

They had been sparring in a clearing a couple of minutes’ walk from the tent, so as not to disturb the other warriors or Lexa. By the movement of the sun, Clarke figured they’d been going for an hour or two at least.

Talia stood over her, hand outstretched as she laughed. “Ku, Klark. Ba bilaik yu ste kwelen, sha?”

Clarke, grabbing Talia’s hand to help herself up, chuckled. “Weak? Hardly. I think I had you on your back at least as many times as you put me on mine!”

Talia briefly mock-bowed, conceding the point. “Yu na hit ai op nodotaim?”

Clarke nodded. “Mebi. Wor na kom op dena.”

Talia’s expression grew pensive, then she extended her arm in farewell. Clarke, taking her arm in a firm grip, said, “Thanks. Even if we don’t see each other until the battle, you were a good fighting trainer.”

Talia nodded solemnly, then released Clarke’s arm and stepped back.

Clarke, remembering her plan, asked, “Weron Indra kamp raun?”

Talia gave her directions, reminding her of various landmarks in the forest. Clarke, remembering the forest and her map well, was able to work out that Indra was training Octavia and other gonas in a bandit-catching team about an hour’s walk away, obliquely in the direction of the Ark.

Clarke debated going to Lexa’s tent one more time, then decided against it. After all, Lexa didn’t have Clarke’s sure knowledge that the Mountain could be defeated, and had to rely on Clarke’s word for it alone. Even Heda kom kongeda could have doubts and fears; Clarke could see in her mind’s eye the time Lexa had startled awake and been disconcerted at her dreams of the previous Commanders, foretelling her eventual death.

But, Clarke reassured herself, Titus and Gustus were off in Azgeda, and nobody else would dare entertain thoughts of assassinating Lexa. She would just have to put Lexa’s discomfort with the mounting war (if that was the cause and not a side effect of the A.I. chip receiving extraneous memories) to one side for now and focus on her immediate objectives.

With that, she set off, her steps determined as she began traversing the distance to get to Indra’s warrior group before they got a move on, checking to be sure her gun was safely in her travel bag.

The clashing of metal against metal and the occasional shout hit Clarke’s ears well before she came across the wide clearing in the midafternoon; soon enough, she stood in between two tents that had been set up as part of an enclosing circle. Standing still for a moment, she tried to count how many people she could spot.

Inside the large central area, shaded well by the trees looming above them, were somewhere around twenty to thirty gonas, variously sparring with one another, sharpening their tools, brushing down horses, or preparing rabbits and deer for cooking later that day.

Clarke peered more closely, and her eyes quickly fastened on Octavia, who was probably fifty feet away at the moment, sparring with Indra. Their swords flashed in the light as the two women, their faces set in intense concentration, tried to get the better of one another as they sparred. Octavia was a whirlwind as she ducked, bobbed, weaved, parried and lunged, trying to find Indra’s weak spot.

But Indra, the experienced veteran leader of the Trikru, was not proving an easy pushover. Every step Octavia took forward, she pushed back just as handily. Clarke marvelled at how evenly-matched the two seemed: Octavia, having had no experience with bladed weapons prior to landing on the ground, was already putting her moves together seamlessly without wasted energy, the way she’d seen Roan do in that other world.

Other warriors seemed just as evenly matched, only occasionally stumbling and being helped up by their fellows. Clarke, shaking her head momentarily to refocus, was about to step forward when the thundering of hooves in the distance caught everybody’s attention.

Indra called, “Hod op!” as Octavia’s sword crashed one last time into hers.

Octavia, heeding the instruction, immediately lowered her sword, her shoulders visibly rising and falling as she breathed heavily. She looked off towards the far right, where two tents were set wide enough apart to match the natural opening off in that direction. Clarke, her gaze following, saw three gonas on horses arrive and thunder to a halt. On one of the horses, in addition to the gona, was a man who had been expertly tied up.

Clarke chuckled to herself. The bandit-catching teams were definitely earning their keep clearing out the forests!

Indra barked some orders in Trigedasleng, and the sparring teams broke up to get the horses watered and rested, as well as bundle the thief off to one of the larger tents, the entrance being flanked by two large armed guards.

Clarke took that moment to step forward, calling, “Wocha Indra! En’s Klark!”

Indra and Octavia turned at the same moment, spotting Clarke entering the clearing. Indra beckoned. “Miya, Klark.”

She trotted over to Indra and Octavia and smiled. “Mochof, Indra. The less bandits there are around here, the easier it’ll be to trade with you.”

Indra nodded slowly. “My warriors are happy to have some actual fighting to do. Octavia helped capture a bandit this morning. She is a very promising seken.”

Octavia grinned as she stood just behind Indra off to the side. “Riding a horse is very cool, Clarke. You should try it sometime.” She quickly resumed a stoic pose, however, her expression solemn as she awaited any orders from her fos.

“I’m happy to hear Octavia is doing well, Indra. I came to ask if I could have her help me with something important for an hour or so.” Clarke looked at Indra, her expression earnest. “I wouldn’t ask unless I thought it might help the war.”

Indra briefly scratched her chin as she thought, then nodded to herself. She replied, “Very well. But remember, she comes back at once and stays with us training and fighting until the battle begins. Yu get ai in, Okteivia?” She turned her head to her left side, an expectant look on her face.

Octavia bowed her head, then looked steadily at Indra. “Sha. En ai na komba hir, Wocha.”

Indra nodded sharply. “Go, quickly. Take no more time than you have to.”

Octavia wasted no time gesturing Clarke to go with her to the smallest tent. Clarke stayed back only long enough to say “mochof” once more to Indra before catching up with Octavia.

At Octavia’s tent, Octavia muttered, “What’s up?”

Clarke put out her hand to grasp Octavia’s shoulder. “How’s your training going?”

She searched Octavia’s face for any new bruises or cuts, but couldn’t spot any. Octavia, correctly interpreting Clarke’s look, leaned in and said quietly, “There’s bruises, all right. They just won’t show because their hand-to-hand style favors disabling opponents with body blows.”

The only sign, Clarke realized, that Octavia was pushing herself hard was the slight wince she saw on the other girl’s face as she leaned down to grab up her travel pack just inside the tent flap.

“So,” prodded Octavia as she checked her sword before sheathing it and letting it rest against her back, “what do you need me for?”

“Your experience sneaking around undetected, off and on the Ark.” Clarke began walking alongside Octavia as they headed in that direction. “There’s someone watching the Ark and I want to grab them so we can ask some questions before we try to take down the Mountain.”

Octavia pursed her lips. It was true, though. Octavia’s size and upbringing meant she was a natural at slipping into and out of small, enclosed spaces, and to Clarke’s practiced eye she could already spot how Octavia stepped like a Grounder, her feet almost instinctively sensing how the ground would yield, stepping so she made almost no noise.

“Why not Lincoln? Or another Grounder?” wondered Octavia.

“The Grounders have superstitions about the Mountain Men; you know that. I’d be worried that one of Indra’s warriors might hesitate. I’m impressed they’ve been effective at taking down Reapers, considering how dangerous they are,” Clarke replied.

“Fair point. Okay, Clarke, where’s this stealth observer person gonna be?” Octavia wondered, her eyes flicking this way and that as she tried to check the surrounding forest for anyone in an environmental suit.

Clarke thought for a bit. “If I were one of them, I’d want a clear line of sight to the Ark, but I’d want to be far enough away from any hunting trails so I could sneak around undetected. Even if they have access to ground transportation, they probably can’t just store a truck any old place.”

In retrospect, realized Clarke, assuming the Mountain Men only ever walked places did not explain how they had managed to spirit away 48 teenagers (plus Anya) on an eight-hour journey to the Mountain.

Octavia, her jaw set in concentration, muttered, “Talk in low voices from now on. And try to step more carefully. I can hear your feet.”

Clarke ground out, “Shit!” and remembering the tricks she’d picked up in her three months of solitude, was able to quieten her steps to Octavia’s liking.

Soon, Octavia directed them off the main trail which Clarke knew would take them to the Ark in a short time, and they slowly and carefully moved through the underbrush and bushes, taking care to use the trees as natural cover as they began creeping along, crouching more frequently as they got closer and closer to the Ark. When they could see the vertical extension of Alpha Station between some trees, Octavia put her finger to her lips. She leaned in and whispered, “Now we have to be really quiet. I think I can spot the guy, but we only have one chance.”

Clarke turned and nodded, taking a moment to register Octavia’s Trikru-like solemnity and determination on her face. As she followed her friend, she marvelled at how quickly Octavia had taken on so many of the traits of Lincoln’s people.

Raven Reyes laughed out loud as she held Niylah’s shoulders, standing atop the wooden base she’d constructed for the three-wheeled bicycle they were currently riding, the Ark already visible in the distance ahead.

Niylah’s father had come through as promised, and the two women had managed to assemble together a working version of the tricycle, complete with seat, pedals, steering handles, and a wide base that sat between the rear wheels. The existing metal base had been badly warped and rusted, but a few moments with a hacksaw Raven had scrounged up from Niylah’s junkyard had fixed that problem, leaving a vestigial metal attachment over the rear axle to secure the improvised wooden boxlike affair to.

The tires Niylah, Raven and Paxas had found were still serviceable, the rubber uncracked even after a century of neglect (that, thought Raven, had to be a miracle in itself). The only hard part had been trying to dig up what Raven vaguely remembered was a hand air pump, but Niylah’s junkyard came through again, and the tires were now firm and filled with air.

And so, Paxas having left already for patrol with his usual soldier troop, Niylah and Raven each tried out the vehicle, getting used to pushing the unfamiliar pedals and seeing how well it travelled on the wide straightaways that Clarke had escorted Raven on previously.

Niylah had kissed Raven soundly after the completion of the bike project, and said, “And now can I go to your Ark with you?”

Raven had grinned and said, “Sure thing! Why don’t you drive me there, my amazing trader?”

And so Raven stood on the back base of the bike, feeling the sturdy wood under her feet and the wind in her hair, as Niylah, now rather an expert at pedalling, easily propelled them forwards toward the Ark. It wasn’t quite like spacewalking, but it definitely beat the hell out of ordinary ground walking, even if her knee occasionally got sore and she needed to adjust her brace as she stood behind Niylah. And the way the wind rushed past her! That had no parallel in Raven’s past experience; even a fan blowing air at her wasn’t quite the same.

The tricycle jounced a bit as they hit some bumpy spots on the pathway, and Niylah instinctively slowed her pedalling down as Raven crouched a bit to try and take the bouncing in her knees. As the road smoothed out again, Raven called, “Whoa!”

Niylah yelled back, “Are you all right, Reivon?”

Raven squeezed her girlfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I am! Just watch out on the next one, huh?”

Niylah’s shoulders shook in a short laugh, and Raven laughed once more as they burst out from under the trees into the wide clearing. “Yeah! WE DID IT, YOU GUYS! Check out my awesome tricycle!” Raven hollered.

A sudden shout off to their right caused Niylah and Raven to jerk their heads in that direction, and to their utter shock, someone in a green environmental suit was stumbling forward into the clearing, trying to holler into a radio even as Clarke and Octavia leaped out a moment later, Octavia aiming the sharp point of her sword directly at the person’s face, with Clarke whipping out a gun a moment later.

Shortly after, Niylah had the bike shuddering to a halt and they stared, transfixed, as Clarke and Octavia secured their first captive Mountain Man.

Chapter Text

At just about any other time, Clarke would be marvelling at Raven’s cobbled-together reconstruction of a working tricycle with a rear stand so two people could travel at once. As it was, she and Octavia had to capitalize on their very good luck; Raven’s laughing and shouting had distracted the person they were sneaking up on, and only Clarke tripping on a tree root had let the Maunon rush out into the clearing while grabbing up their radio.

She thought she’d heard a short barked message from the suited person, but that was less important at the present moment than the fact that she’d managed to ambush a Mountain Man. As she stared at the youngish man’s face, his eyes wide at her gun and Octavia’s sword, it hit her: this was truly brand-new territory for her now; the relevance of her past-future knowledge was ebbing away with each new moment that passed.

Raven, by now off her bike and walking over, called, “Holy shit, you guys got one of them!”

Niylah, on the bike, seemed hesitant to approach. She was about thirty feet away, and her eyes kept flicking back and forth between Raven and the Mountain Man. She bit her lip briefly, then called, “Reivon, ai vout in—”

Raven turned and read the look of concern on Niylah’s face. “Sha, Naila. Set raun der.”

Clarke called, “Follow us inside the camp, Niylah. Just give us a moment.”

To the Mountain Man, Clarke said, “Nod if you can hear us.”

The man nodded.

“Give me your radio.” Clarke extended her hand. Reluctance was clear on the man’s face, but he handed it over without complaint.

“Now,” ordered Clarke, “Walk ahead of me and Octavia into the camp. Rest assured, if you do anything – anything – that looks like you’re up to something, Octavia here is very eager to prove what she knows about swords. And she doesn’t like Mountain Men very much.”

Octavia’s lips curled in a snarl as she growled, “Give me an excuse. Please.”

The man raised his hands in surrender and slowly stepped forward, Clarke prodding him briefly with the end of her gun as she and Octavia walked directly behind him. Raven and Niylah trailed behind, Niylah now off the tricycle to push it forward by the handlebars with Raven’s help.

At the gates, Clarke called, “Someone get my mom, Kane and Sinclair!”

They were all duly let in, all eyes on them as they walked. Between seeing a green enviro-suited man and a working personal vehicle, the sight was enough to cause anyone to lay down their tools for the time being. The sounds of activity only belatedly resumed as the group got closer to the Ark entrance door.

At the entrance to Alpha Station, Raven spoke briefly into Niylah’s ear, and the two broke off to head over to the open-air still. Was that a sigh of relief from Niylah I heard? Clarke wondered.

In any case, the entrance door opened, revealing the trio of Sinclair, Kane and Clarke’s mother. Sinclair let out a low whistle. Clarke said, “Mom, we’ve got our outside observer. It’s time to start asking some questions.”

Abby nodded, and they trooped down the hallway to one of the rooms with a functioning airlock. She said, “This will be your prison for the time being. We haven’t yet set up a clean room for you yet. How much oxygen do you have left?”

“About six hours, m—uh, ma’am,” the man said, his voice slightly tinny in the quiet room.

Sinclair nodded. “I can rig up a filter for the airlock.” He turned and left to get some supplies.

The remaining group then had the man back up against a wall, letting them form a rough semicircle around him. To Octavia, Clarke said, “Do you want to stay or get back to Indra?”

Octavia shifted her grip on her sword, now down at her side, and glared balefully at the man. “I’ll stay and report this back to Indra.”

Clarke kept her gun at her side as well. She called, “What’s your name?”

“Lee. Lee Fraser.”

“All right, Lee. You understand you’re our prisoner and we want to know what’s going on inside your Mountain, so the faster you tell us everything, the sooner we’ll have you out of that suit and in that airlock. Otherwise—” Clarke made a show of shrugging, as though running out of air in six hours wasn’t a huge concern.

Wanheda, a voice called distantly in her mind. She gritted her teeth. Now was not the time for self-doubts and body counts.

Lee looked like he was about to speak, then tonelessly recited, “Lee Fraser. Mount Weather Guard. Serial number—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, this is ridiculous!” Abby expostulated.

Clarke yelled, “Shut up, Lee!” Before Lee could get his breath to continue, Clarke drove on, in a low intense tone. “You can either play the useless hero or you can cooperate and get bone marrow from us so you don’t need to be in that suit again.”

Clarke let that dangle as the other three tried not to show surprise at her sudden gambit. Clarke wished she’d had time to arrange things beforehand, but she’d let events in the Mountain propel her decisionmaking.

That, decided Clarke, wasn’t a good omen. She had to be more careful.

Lee eyed them warily. “What guarantees do I have? The girl there dresses like one of the outsider savages. For all I know you’ll just kill me afterwards, anyway.”

Octavia nearly lunged for him, causing Lee to flinch and rear back, but restrained herself before Clarke could grab her. In a low, dangerous voice, she warned, “Say anything like that again and I’ll cut your air intake hose.”

Clarke stepped closer and said, “Lee, speak very carefully. We’re the ones with the advantage right now and if you want to live, you want me to not let Octavia have a go at you. Trust me.” She held his gaze, not blinking.

After a few moments, Lee dropped his gaze and mumbled, “Fine.”

Clarke asked, “Why have there been weird shift changes in the Mountain?”

Lee’s eyes snapped wide open. “How’d you tap our communications?!”

Kane barked, “That’s not important, mister. Answer the question.”

Lee licked his lips, then said, “I’m not sure. I just know a bunch of us got told our shift rotas were changed. A server crashed in Mount Weather and they wanted more people outside to make sure we had eyes on the ground.”

Clarke thought for a moment, working out how to phrase her next question. They were giving up more than their captive was, and she had to change that. Finally, she said, “You might know I was in the Mountain for a while before I escaped. I met Dante Wallace; he’s your President. What’s he scared of? All we’re doing is gathering information; we haven’t killed you out of hand.”

Lee seemed to struggle for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Look, I only agreed to this assignment because they told me there was a priority list for bone marrow.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” wondered Kane.

“My commanding officer, Emerson. That’s Carl Emerson, I mean.”

Goddamnit, Emerson again, Clarke mentally groused. In any timeline, he’s like a bad penny.

“And who else?” prodded Clarke. “We know something’s up in Mount Weather, Lee. If there’s a power struggle going on in there, that’s bad for us.”

The words seemed to come out of Lee in a rush. “Dante isn’t the President anymore. His son, Cage, took over. I – I was there, okay? We got in a shootout with Cage’s men, and after it was all over, Cage and Emerson got me aside and said I could do what they told me, which was help get all Dante’s men outside the Mountain, or I’d be dead last on the list for any bone marrow and so would my wife and child. They said it could be three months before we got any!”

Clarke couldn’t quite stifle her surprise as she looked from side to side, catching Octavia’s momentary intake of air, Kane’s raised eyebrows and her mother’s jaw dropping slightly. Sinclair, walking back into the room, stopped momentarily before moving to the airlock to begin fixing the air filter.

What were the odds, wondered Clarke, that they’d stumble across not only one of Dante’s supporters, but one of the very men involved in the shootout Bellamy had told them about?

Lee continued. “So I helped coordinate the new shift rota. That wasn’t a lie. I’m normally in charge of who’s supposed to go out on patrol or observation, and when.” Panic entered his voice as he said, “Look, if I don’t go back, my family—”

Clarke cut in, “What did you manage to get out on the radio?”

“I said I was under attack, but that’s all.”

“So for all they know, a wild animal or a Reaper was attacking you. Have you got a tone generator?”

“Well, yes. We all get them,” replied Lee.

“But the way you got cut off could mean it malfunctioned. So for all they know in Mount Weather, you met with bad luck and they’ll write you off, and your family will be unhurt.”

Lee pressed his lips together. “This is all useless, anyway. What can you really do for me?”

“We’re getting our kids back,” announced Abby. “And when we do, we plan to take out Cage Wallace.” She cast a glance to Clarke for a moment, then looked at Lee again. “We could perhaps see our way to restoring your former leader to his office in return for a nonaggression agreement.”

Octavia’s strangled growl prompted Clarke to grab her sleeve and shoot her a warning glare.

Hope entered Lee’s voice. “You mean it? You’ll give us bone marrow and let us live? And all I need to do is help you get rid of Cage?”

Abby hesitated, then nodded. “We need crew complements, personnel arrangements – that is, who’s where and when; things like that.”

Lee sagged in relief. “Just get me in that airlock so I can get out of this suit and I’ll tell you everything.”

As if that were a signal, the low chugging of a pump rose in volume within the room, and Sinclair called out, “I’ve got the best filter working on that room; it should remove any particulate matter you might breathe in.”

Byrne, who’d accompanied Sinclair in, now announced her presence. “Chancellor, I’m here to stand guard over the prisoner while we get him inside the room. I’ll record any information you want.”

“Good. All right, let’s take a break while things get set up; Clarke – Octavia – you’re with me.”

Octavia’s boots hit the metal floor resoundingly as she stamped briskly out into the hallway, followed by Abby and Clarke.

As soon as Abby shut the door to the Chancellor’s office, Octavia yelled, “What the hell was that?!”

Abby said warningly, “Keep your voice down, Octavia.”

Octavia sneered. “Fuck you. You know what they did to Lincoln! You were there helping him detox in the dropship! And now you’re gonna make deals with those… those—” She sputtered to a halt, her face red in anger as she scowled at Abby.

Clarke stepped bodily in between their line of sight, Abby now behind the Chancellor’s desk and Octavia a few feet away from it. She spoke steadily, but calmly. “Mom, I thought you were the one warning me about separate peaces – even fake ones.” To Octavia, she said, “O, please believe me. We all agreed we wouldn’t really do that. I promise: no separate peaces. Lincoln and his people will get justice.” She reached out to hold Octavia’s arms, willing her friend to understand the gambit they were playing. “But we need to pretend to be willing to go along with a counter-coup just long enough to get what we need to take down Mount Weather.”

Octavia’s lips quivered for a moment, then she stilled and swallowed, her nostrils flaring as she schooled herself into a warrior pose. She nodded jerkily, and said, “Okay.”

Clarke stepped aside, dropping her arms, and Abby looked at Octavia expectantly. Octavia, taking the hint, bowed her head and then looked at Abby. “Chancellor Griffin, I apologize. It was unbecoming of me to react emotionally.”

“I understand you’re upset and you want to get the Mountain back for what they’ve done.” Abby sat in her chair and folded her hands. “Believe me, I do. But don’t ever talk to me that way again. I am your Chancellor.”

Octavia shot back, “At least you’re not the one who floated my mom.” She had the good grace to look a bit abashed before resuming a neutral expression.

Abby pursed her lips and looked away for a second. Clarke remembered, fleetingly, her last embrace with her father, his strong arms holding her even as she knew what was to come.

With some effort at shifting the subject, Clarke said, “Anyway, we need to get on this information, and fast. We need to work out the best ways into the Mountain and the fastest ways to disable their defences. But it all hinges on Bellamy.”

Octavia blinked. “Bellamy?”

“Bellamy agreed to go inside the Mountain in disguise to help take down the acid fog and, if they have any missiles, to disable them,” Clarke said. She held Octavia’s shoulder in reassurance. “Your brother is the most important person we have right now, and he’s doing what he can to help us out. I’ve given him all the information I have about the Mountain, and none of us want him to take any unnecessary risks.”

Octavia bit her lip, but managed to retain her stolidity. She whispered, “Kefa, Klark. Ai gaf em in ste klir.”

Clarke gave Octavia a wan smile as she dropped her hand. “Sha. Ai gifa em in seimtaim.”