we'll match
Raven has a sheaf’s worth of paper that she lays out all across one of the tables in the meeting rooms. She has maybe two dozen City of Light chips, and she spills them on top of the papers. The Commander picks one of them up, examines it. “Can I keep this?” she asks.
“Sure,” says Raven. “Just don’t swallow it.”
The Commander frowns, and pockets it.
“So I was thinking that I could hook up the chips to a computer and then look at the code of the City of Light from the outside. To do that, I’ll need a lot of stuff from the Ark — the mainframe that A.L.I.E uploaded herself to, monitors — those are, um, screens — I’ve got a list for you,” Raven is saying. “You’ve been scavenging stuff from Arkadia with Bellamy, though, right? It’ll just be like that."
“Okay,” says Murphy, because agreeing to destroy a computer program and actually making plans to do it are very different things. “I think I should kill Jaha,” he adds. He was there when Jaha entered the City of Light; he’s into making him leave.
“Yeah,” says Raven, like she’s considering it. “No.”
“It’s a great plan,” says Murphy. “Jaha is also, like, the chancellor of the City of Light. Killing him will destroy the whole thing.” Time and experience and exhaustion have mellowed him, but: here, if he was given the chance. If he was given the command, he would kill Jaha, and he would enjoy it.
“No it won’t,” says Raven, exapserated. “That will just reveal your position too early. Everything that happens to one person in the City of Light, everybody else knows within a minute. And like. Jaha isn’t A.L.I.E. If you cut off his head, he’ll still be in the City of Light. The only thing that will change is that he — Are you even listening?”
He is not listening. Raven will not give him the command to kill; he won’t do it. After, though. After A.L.I.E is destroyed, after —
He’s had enough of revenge for one lifetime. After. This. He’ll see how things go.
Anyway. Business. He looks to the Commander. She’s turning the chip over and over in her hands again. “Do I still get a tattoo?” he asks her.
“Huh?” she says. She sets the chip down. “Yeah,” she says, gathering something from behind her. “Is your collarbone okay?”
His collarbone is doing just fine, thank you. He is already anxious at the thought of the Commander touching him again, but. That’s not really a problem he’s allowed to have.
The Commader catches his chin. Thumb to his cheek. Her hands are Emori’s. Nearly. “Here,” she says. “Look,” she says, pulling her hair to one side, showing him the back of her neck. The same infinity symbol/logo as on the chips. “We’ll match,” she says, and she’s trying to make him smile, and that’s kind of weird, to have the Commander after his well-being. So he gives her a twitch of his lips.
Also. That’s weird, too, that she has the same symbol: is she her own lukotwar? Grounders have tattoos for reasons, right? It’s a puzzle he can’t wrap his brain around, so he just stops caring.
He hops up on Raven’s table. He takes off his shirt. Raven hisses somewhere behind him. Either she got a papercut or he has some scarring there. Maybe from Titus? Cool.
The Commander swabs something to his collarbone. Keep talking. “Why isn’t Clarke here?” he asks.
“Do you want me to get her?” asks the Commander.
“No,” he says, and then reframes what he wants to ask. “Why did Clarke do this last time?”
“Oh,” says the Commander, turning her attention back to her tools. “She can draw perfect circles. On the first try.”
Of course she can. He lets his legs dangle. The Commander dips her needle into ink or whatever. She has one hand on his collarbone and the other hand on his shoulder. Whoa. Whoa. This is stupid, he can stay still, he can —
He’s flinching. He’s brought up a hand to shove the Commander away. He’s fine. It’s fine. Raven is swearing. The Commander has removed her hand.
“Um,” he says. “Sorry,” he says, because that makes people pity you, when you apologize for things you don’t have control over. “Collarbone’s not okay,” he says. Is he even breathing? He should chill out.
Closes his eyes. Ryfe can talk him down usually. Just pretend she’s here, that she’s not mad at him, that she still cares about him. Breathe. Maybe she still does. He might have failed her test, but he didn’t fail the Commander. She still wants to use him. Ryfe will like that. Ryfe will be proud of him.
Opens his eyes. The Commander is waiting patiently. Raven is still here. He fucked up in front of Raven. Jesus.
Ryfe could do it. Ryfe probably knows how, could do it without spooking him too bad.
Ryfe isn’t here. He can’t ask for Ryfe.
Raven is. Raven will hurt him, but she won’t kiss him. Good. Good alternate plan.
“Raven can do it,” he hears himself say. “Right here.”
Right under the ribcage. Good place to stab upward.
Raven regards the Commander. Raven picks up the needle.
Murphy looks away.
—
How long do you need? The Commander had asked.
He shrugged. Long enough.
Raven’s hands were steady. Raven’s hands were steady, even against his breathing. Raven’s hands —
He’s never going to get better. He’s never going to be over it.
Shoves these thoughts out of his head. Rides back to the dropship with Clarke, his hands around her waist. She says “I’m going back in four days, are you coming?”
Mm. She doesn’t know. “I don’t know,” he says. “I have a. Thing.”
“You have another job?” Clarke asks, surprised. “Already?”
“Don’t pretend like you care,” he snaps. “I’m not interested in that.”
Clarke’s face closes off. Good. “Fine,” she snaps back, and leaves him to deal with the horse.
Ugh.
—
He finds Bellamy chopping wood for the firepit. He watches for awhile, appreciating the view, until Bellamy sets aside the axe and goes, “What do you want?”
“I need a team,” he says, and this is going to be weird, completing a mission and telling other people about it, working with other people, having them know. “I need your help,” he says. Bellamy is good at things like this; pulling people in: he knows how they fit together, how to make them work cooperatively. “I have a tattoo,” he half-explains, not really wanting to get into it.
“I’m not doing shit for Lexa,” says Bellamy, which, okay. Fair.
“It’s not for the Commander,” says Murphy. “It’s for Raven.”
Bellamy wipes sweat off his brow. “Okay,” he says. “I’m listening.”