Chapter Text
When our hearts have healed, will we meet again?
— Michael Daaboul ~ Healing Hearts
Guided only by the stream of light coming from the car and a few torches hastily made, Abby followed the crowd through the dark, parting overgrown branches with her trembling hands. The brilliance of the moon cast a deep shadow over her face as she trudged along. For the fiftieth time, her hand unconsciously reached for the rough surface of her neck, gently caressing through the deep shades of purple that left an unnerving line through it. It was a silly thing to do, but every now and then she liked to take a long, deep breath - filling every part in her lungs with air, just to prove that she could.
She folded her arms tightly, the thin shelter her clothes provided gave little warmth, the rush of icy wind raising goosebumps on her skin. Clarke had pushed for her to ride on the car and get some sleep but she refused. The pressing weight from the stares, and the quiet teetering of whispers were unbearable. At least now, standing at the back of the crowd, few people noticed her, and she released a sigh of relief. Exhaustion and melancholy lingered heavily in the atmosphere as they trudged back to Arkadia. Abby had heard stories of other actions people did under ALIE’s influence, carrying a heavy heart after hours had passed upon hearing them. She heard broken whispers from a woman in her late thirties, her kind face smeared with blood and tears, talking to who she assumed was her husband, about what had happened after she took the chip. The woman retold her story, through cracks in her voice and heavy pauses, during the moments ALIE had been destroyed. She had been holding a blood-soaked knife, pierced through the chest of her 12 year old son just moments ago. She had been sobbing then - almost incoherent - as she continued. Her son had become suspicious of the chip ever since she had taken it, claiming his mother didn’t remember his father, who had been locked in a jail cell throughout this period. They had been arguing, her son becoming more frustrated with her. She could tell he felt uneasy with her cool, blank expressions. One thing led to another, and not a moment had gone by, the warmth of her son’s blood lay around them.
Abby observed them now, the man walking several metres in front of his wife, holding a bag of his things. His wife walked in a daze, her face filled with dried tears, her hair limp against her shoulders. She remembered their son for a long moment, his scrawny, freckled face frequenting the medical bay, arriving with bouquets of important herbs and plants. She looked away, her hand reaching for her neck, gently massaging it with her cool fingers once more. She heard a voice boom in the distance. “We’ll camp here for tonight. If we leave by sunlight tomorrow, we should be able to arrive at Arkadia well before noon.” It was Clarke. She watched her silhouette remove something from her bag, laughing alongside with Raven as she told her a story. Abby’s heart twinged painfully. Her mind went back to the boy’s mother, how very close Abby had come to doing the very same thing. Clarke’s blood on her hands. Her own daughter. She looked away, the weight of her heart becoming unbearable. Clarke had insisted and insisted that it wasn’t her fault. But how could it not, when she remembers every crack in her voice, the searing pain in her cries? How she had never seen her daughter in that amount of pain until she was the one who inflicted it? As much as she wanted to walk towards her and feel her embrace, she doesn’t feel that she deserve it. Not another embrace, not another breathe inhaled, nor released.
Thud. When she wasn’t eavesdropping on conversations, her mind would replay her actions under ALIE’s influence. Thud. Thud. At first, she thought it was her heart, beating too loudly against her ears as she stepped through the muddy earth. She felt numb. Thud. Thud. This time, the noise distinctly separated from her heartbeat. It had become louder. Then suddenly, it clicked. The hammer was swung - colliding with the thick, iron nail, creating a sickening metallic thud. A scream erupted.
Marcus. His face contorted as the sickening smack of metal against flesh rang in her ears. Abby had seen the blood drip from the sharp tip of the nail, glistening under the harsh light. It was a tiny detail, but it made her stomach lurch. She remembered every detail. His desperate pleas for Abby to wake up.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The sharp screams that erupted from Marcus as his face contorted. Thud. The way he looked at her in between screams. I’ve lost her, they reflected. I’ve lost her.
But the thing that frightened her the most, was herself. It nagged at her. In between heart beats. In between seconds. The firmly planted feet that stood in front of the cross. The icy words that spoke from her mouth in a tone she didn’t recognise. The eyes that never strayed from him, as though each swing of the hammer struck fire in her chest - eyes glinting with malice.
And it scared her. She looked down at her softly trembling hands. The hands that had given her purpose, that had saved so many lives, had been the same hands that punctured a scalpel through her daughter’s chest. The familiar cool skin of the scalpel twisting inside Clarke’s chest - warm, dripping blood escaping through. Abby breathed deeply, the tired lines on her face more visible than ever.
“-Cha-Chancellor Griffin? Are you alright?” a small voice broke through. She whipped around and looked down. It was a young girl who looked barely 9 years old. The girl’s eyebrows furrowed. “Chancellor?”
Not a second longer, a mask was switched on. “Oh no, Charlotte. I’m alright. Don’t you worry, little one.” She crouched down, holding her hands. People never dropped her former title and she liked that. “What can I help you with?”
The young girl looked at her for a small moment, a brief flicker down at her neck before speaking.
“Um, my mother is freezing. I know she wouldn’t have wanted me to bother someone else about this but…you see, my baby brother is using our only blanket. She insisted she wasn’t cold, but I knew she was lying because her fingers are almost blue and I’m rea-“
“It’s okay, Charlotte.” she caressed her thumb over her small, cold hands. “I’ll help you find one.” Abby looked around the camp. She considered asking Marcus, who was helping someone set up their tent, or Clarke, who was now talking to Bellamy, but shook the thought out of her head.
“Tell you what. I’ll give you mine. It’s nice and big, you guys should be snuggled under it in no time.” Abby said gently, smiling.
“But- But what about you? You’re gonna be cold.” Charlotte said.
“Don’t worry about me, kid. I’m not cold.” she replied, as a rush of wind crept past her shoulders, raising goosebumps. “Really.”
“Are-Are you sure?”
“Truly and completely.” She rummaged through her bag for the blanket. Unfolding it, she wrapped it around young Charlotte’s shoulders tight and snug.
“There, kid. Sleep well.” She smiled at her once more as she watched her little feet make her way back to their tent. She locked eyes with Marcus, who had been watching her, his facial expression unreadable. She hadn’t seen him since their brief embrace at the tower. Unconsciously, she massaged at her neck with her cold fingers once more, seeing his eyes flicker down for a brief moment, before she looked away. She couldn’t face him. She couldn’t bear it. She had avoided him as they made their long walk back to Arkadia. Abby was afraid that once she looked at him in the eyes for more than ten seconds, she would break. And like the last thread holding a wound together, she held on tight.
She set up her tent and laid her sleeping gear in quick succession. It was far enough from the crowd near the bonfire, the atmosphere becoming lighter since they set up camp. Many were tired but glad that they were free from ALIE’s grasp, celebrating with food they had hunted nearby. ALIE hadn’t exactly made sure they were well-fed. Most were huddling around the fire, watching it lick the logs of wood that had been collected, while others went straight to their tents, their tired limbs needing the warmth of their temporary beds. She wasn’t hungry, and preferred the solitude over the heavy stares that followed her around the camp.
She sat in the darkness, looking at the glimmering stars from her tent. Her stomach twisted, the ringing of desperate pleas and broken screams playing over and over and over. She looked down, her loose waves trailing behind, creating shadows on her face. Through an inviting silence, an overwhelming rush of guilt suddenly came upon her. The weight of her guilt snapped the last remaining thread that kept her together. Her heart drummed from her chest and rang loudly in her ears. She felt her hands scratch at her neck, her bottom lip quivering. Her breathing quickened, and she felt as though there were razor blades in her chest. Her eyes flashed with tears and she fought back to keep them at bay. She remembered seeing the angry red line that dripped down Raven’s hands before she took the chip, the blood of pool quickly forming around her. The moment Marcus realised that his Abby was long gone, that ALIE had taken over. The shock in his eyes - she thought - seemed as though he was reevaluating everything he knew about her. Had he thought she betrayed him? Betrayed all of them?
She strangled out a sob, her lungs heaving for air. The palm of her hand dug through the cold earth just outside her tent, the other clutching her chest - desperate to keep herself together. She furiously blinked back tears as her bottom chin quivered. She leaned back against the tent, yearning for composure. The weight on her chest was so immense she may collapse. Abby staggered as she tried to stand up, unable to breathe within the confines of the tent. When she found her footing, she wiped her tears and smoothed her shirt. When the coast was clear she stumbled out, heading for the forest. It wasn’t long until she found herself blinking back tears once more.