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Marcus Kane and Abby Griffin were heading to Mount Weather for a supply run when the storm hit. It had been sunny skies when they left that morning, but dark clouds soon appeared on the horizon, racing them through the forest. The clouds won, catching them in a torrential downpour early that afternoon. They were near the dropship, so they sprinted across the grassy field, making it inside the shelter just a thunderclap boomed through the air.
Marcus stopped at the top of the metal ramp and pulled the tarp back to look outside. The sun had disappeared completely, hidden by charcoal clouds, and the rain was coming down in sheets, but it was undeniably beautiful. After a lifetime spent in space, he found himself continually awed by the ground. That was why he had opted to walk to Mount Weather, rather than take a rover. Abby had showed up that morning to walk with him, a pleasant surprise. He was glad for the company.
“Better get comfy,” Abby said from behind him. “We could be stuck here for hours.”
He nodded, then positioned the tarp back across the dropship’s entrance and turned around. He set his pack on the grated floor and removed his Guard jacket, shaking off the water droplets. Then his gaze settled on her. She had her back to him, and he watched as she removed her soaking wet blue-gray Henley shirt. The black tank top underneath slid up with it, revealing the shock-lashing scars on her lower back. He hadn’t seen them since he had handed her the Chancellor’s pin two months ago, and he wasn’t prepared for the sharp pang of guilt that paralyzed him.
She turned around to face him, pulling her tank top back down. She began twisting her shirt to wring out the water, but stopped mid-twist when she saw the look on his face.
“Marcus?”
He shook his head and looked at the floor. He didn’t know what to say. They had moved past their animosity, and on some level, he knew she had forgiven him... But he had never apologized. He had never apologized for any of it. Actions said more than words ever could, but certain sentiments were meant to be spoken out loud, and he was horrified to realize that he had never said I’m sorry.
In an instant, she was by his side, hand on his shoulder still damp with rain. “Marcus, what’s wrong?”
He brought his eyes up to meet hers and saw himself reflected in her bright pupils. He wondered how she saw him - if she saw his former self from the Ark, his belief in the law unwavering, or if she saw the more diplomatic man he was now. He suspected she saw the latter, but the nagging doubts in the back of his mind were persistent.
“I’m sorry,” he said at long last, after all these months. The words felt tiny compared to the regret they held.
“For what?”
“For having you shock-lashed, for--” He couldn’t bring himself to mention the time he had been seconds away from floating her; the mere thought of losing her now was incomprehensible. How far they had come, he thought. He broke her penetrating gaze and stared at the floor once again. “I saw your scars.”
Her hand tightened almost imperceptibly on his shoulder, and the sound of rain beating against the metallic roof was deafening in her silence. “I’m sorry too,” she said finally. “If I hadn’t given guns to those boys…” She trailed off, but he understood. The bitter flame of hindsight licked at her heels. If she hadn’t given guns to those boys, Finn would still be alive, as would an entire Grounder village. It wasn’t her fault, but he knew she blamed herself. “I should have trusted you,” she added quietly.
He let out a small, breathy laugh. “You had no reason to trust me then.”
She jerked her head up at his words, brown eyes wide. “Do you really think that?”
He didn’t respond.
She sighed and ran her palm down his arm to pull his hand into her own. “Marcus, your past, our lives on the Ark… My shock-lashing… None of it matters now.” She gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I forgive you.”
It was in that moment that he became acutely aware of the way his heart always quickened in her presence, the sparks that flew over his skin at her touch, the feeling of air constricting in his throat at the sight of her because it was suddenly so damn hard to breathe. She forgave him, and he… Well, he loved her. There had been inklings, hints, whispers, but he hadn’t realized what they meant until just now. He was overcome with love for this woman standing before him, covered in rain droplets, ponytail dark and tangled, wrinkles crinkling the corners of her eyes, yet somehow so incredibly graceful.
A smile crept across his face as the dawning realization warmed his soul. He wouldn’t tell her, probably not for a long time, but he could certainly show her.
He squeezed her hand. “I forgive you, too,” he said.
The way her face lit up set off a whole new wave of inklings, hints, and whispers deep in his subconscious. Maybe she loved him back.