Keryon Gonplei

Clarke let Lincoln go in the morning. He left, with all his possessions, minus the knife he'd forfeited to Finn's chest. Bellamy was tense through the whole ordeal, but he nodded respectfully to the warrior before he departed. Lincoln promised to speak to Anya, and return as soon as he had a time and place to meet; he warned that Anya would likely want to meet spontaneously, in order to avoid a trap. Clarke made sure she had a pack of supplies at the ready, prepared for her departure.

                Two days passed with no word from the Grounders. Finn was recovering rapidly and could be found on his feet more each day. Clarke passed her time hunting, overseeing the construction projects and organising the work rosters of the remaining hundred. When she could find the time, or couldn’t sleep, she found herself either drawing, or practising her fighting forms, training so the movements were less tiring.

                Murphy had tried to object to the fact that she hardly ever did any of the heavy lifting, but after Clarke pointed out the fact that the meat in his hand was caught by her own, he became less hostile. Mbege, his sidekick was said to have had words with him. He’d supposedly told Murphy that all he needed to do was look at Clarke to see how hard she worked to keep the camp together. Clarke made a mental note to thank the boy at some point.

                She and Wells had started wandering off at dinner time and talking each night. He would ask for the specifics of what happened last time, and she would tell him as much as she could bear. He would never push, and for that she was thankful.

Charlotte....

                Clarke would deflate at the very thought of that little girl.

                "It was just a dream." She said, but now she knew better than most, just how real and haunting dreams like that could get.

                “Yeah, I understand.” This time the words hung heavy in her chest. More so than the last at least. “My father was floated too.” But it wasn’t just her father that she was thinking of.

                “I can’t say I blame you.” And she didn’t, but she was angry at the thought. The Council sent a twelve year old girl down here to die. How could they do that? Kids a month off their hearings were one thing, but a twelve year old girl that was angry after her parents died...It was a broken system. She also couldn’t be mad for things the girl had done in a past life. That’d be awfully hypocritical of the things she was trying to forgive herself over. 

                The girl had looked at Clarke searchingly, she could see the deep wounds behind her words, and looked to listen more intently. “You know, I have nightmares too. Everything I’ve ever screwed up, I see it in my dreams.”

                “They said you don’t sleep much...” she hesitated for a long moment, unsure how to put the next question into words. “H-how do you... How...” She trailed off, but Clarke got the message.

                “You’ve just gotta know when to blame, and when to forgive... Things that happened on the Ark, they happened because the station could hardly keep its whole population alive. Down here Charlotte, we can forgive; we get enough time to understand. I’m not saying it’ll ever stop hurting, but maybe it won’t burn in your chest every night, maybe we’ve got a second chance.” The speech was almost the same, she was worried it wasn’t enough.

                “Do you really believe that?”

                This, this was what would be different. “Yes.” She said it with such conviction, and she finally felt sure; “Yes, more than anything.” Because why else was she still here?

                Charlotte held her gaze for a long, ponderous moment, eyes weeping the tears she couldn’t hold. She gave a quick nod, and Clarke pulled her closer, so the girls head rested on her shoulder.

                She didn’t know if she’d made any progress on that front; or just directed things more thoroughly down the existing path. She still refused to tell Wells anything about it, but by now, he’d noticed his absence in the later part of her extravagant tale.

                They’d just finished their food, and Clarke used it as an excuse to stop talking. She’d told him about pulling the lever to the drop ship engines that killed the invading Trikru warriors. She hadn’t broken down when she told him, and she counted that as a victory; she was not at all ready to even begin telling him about the mountain though, so she let the silence stretch between them. When he realised that the conversation would go no further that night, she gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, grabbed her empty plate, and left her to her thoughts.

                She still didn’t believe that he believed her. She was half convinced that the explanations she was giving him, were just a tool to see how far she was carrying the delusion. He looked at her differently now, that he had before... less lost, and somehow less hopeful, both at once. It seemed like maybe he’d let her go, at least his ridiculous crush on her that she’d been avoiding for years. Now he just listened, he was there, and he listened and didn’t judge when she hesitated talking about Finn... and about Lexa...

                She let out a sigh and looked up at the sky. The knight was still and cloudless and she gazed at the stars above, wondering why they’d held her prisoner for so long and then thrown her into the thick of things so suddenly.

                A streak of light caught her attention in the sky above.

                Her eyes widened and she kept her eye on the object as it came through the atmosphere.

***

                Back at camp, she collected her pack and woke a bleary eyed Finn Collins. Dragging the young, wounded tracker into the woods, she saw the shooting star fall to the ground in an unfamiliar location; but ran towards it anyway.

                Finn seemed to wake up when he saw the fiery streak hit the horizon. “That was from the Ark, wasn’t it?” Clarke told him to keep moving. He stumbled a little faster and clutched his side more firmly, wincing a little as his feet jarred against the ground each time. She kept an eye on him, but he looked excited at the prospect of news from above, and a flicker of hope sparked behind his eyes. She just hoped that it was Raven Reyes falling from the sky, and not something else.

                It was a long hike, but they found a roughed up escape pod, heaped on the ground. Finn went to run towards it, but Clarke held him off. She circled the pod, looking for any sparks or dangers that could make the whole thing volatile. Finding none, she approached, with Finn at her side. They found one unconscious form inside a space suit and a radio, calling for contact. Clarke saw that it was Raven, and turned to Finn.

                “I told you she wouldn’t give up.”

                He pushed her aside and looked at his girlfriend. Nothing had come between them this time and the tender worry in Finn’s eyes made Clarke’s heart ache. He removed Raven’s helmet and gently called her name, running his fingers over the bump on her forehead, which was just visible under the lights of the console. When she didn’t respond, he turned desperately to Clarke.

                Clarke returned to the mechanic’s side and inspected the head wound, finding it to be similar to last time. She looked around, curious as to the new landing zone. Was this only because Raven had come down a few days early? How had she managed to get the pod working that fast? She shook her head and made Finn help her lift Raven out of the seat to lay her on the ground away from the pod.

                Raven would be out for a little while longer. Finn was sent to collect some water from a small stream not too far away. Then the cold water was applied to the bump on Raven’s head with a scrap of cloth. Hopefully reducing the swelling now would allow her to come to a little sooner. She left Finn to watch over their new arrival and found the radio.

                “Calling Ark Space Station, this is Clarke Griffin, over.”

                The response was immediate. A dozen questions were asked and Clarke couldn’t understand half of them. She noted that the voice on the other end seemed rather relieved to finally have made contact. “Raven Reyes if fine, and so are the other members of the Hundred.” She gave them the information that they needed. She gave the radio the coordinates of the drop ship. The told them about the non-hostile people of the ground. She was so close to telling them not to trust Mount Weather, but there was a possibility the Mountain was listening to them.

                “Clarke!” A voice behind her called. She turned her head to find Finn gesturing to a woozy, but conscious Raven. She told the radio to stand by, and inspected the mechanic more closely. She had a concussion. While Raven was woozy and dizzy when she moved, she remembered where she came from and how she got there, so Clarke gave her the temporary all clear. They helped the Mechanic to her feet, and she admired their surroundings. Clarke watched her closely, analysing the young woman's condition where she stood.

                “You remind me of your mother.” Raven had commented after Clarke’s onslaught of questions and the analytical look in her eyes. She’d paused for a moment at that, before asking Raven where Abby Griffin was now.

                “Probably back in your cell, she said you’d done some crazy science shit or something in there. When she got your message from the bracelets, she recruited me full time. A couple seconds before the rest of them cut out, we got a half second of a transmission originating from your estimated landing location.

                “Jaha found out what she was doing with me and gave me a couple other engineers to get the job done faster.”

                “Jaha helped you?” Clarke was at a miss. The politics of the Ark appeared to have changed, from what she knew.

                “Yeah, his kid was the first to go dark. When your mother found out it was a message, she won some brownie points. Jaha brought a shit storm on himself when he helped us, Kane’s half way to disposing him, but since, I’m assuming, you’ve replied to that radio; I don’t think Kane’s gonna have much luck. Good plan Griffin.”

                Clarke held her breath for a moment. There was a lot to process from what Raven had just said. She had another round of questions she wanted to ask of the mechanic, but Finn was hovering nearby. “Can you rip that radio out, so we can take it back to camp?” Raven only scoffed. Finn helped her to her feet and they removed the radio. It cut off when they did, but Raven assured them that all it needed was a power source, and if Monty was able to send something to them in the first place, then he had a power source that would work.

Clarke got them moving back towards camp, and took a few moments to figure out her position. She couldn’t see the any signs of the sunrise, but she knew it wouldn’t be far off. They were heading back at a much slower pace this time, but Finn still grimaced when he stumbled over a branch. Raven’s reaction was instantaneous.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” She’d swerved in front of him and stopped their progress. Clarke paused, not knowing whether to leave them to it, or not.

“I ah...” He stumbled over his words.

“-Do you know your way back Finn?” She interrupted and he floundered even more.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll catch up.”

As Clarke sped up she felt the air charge itself in response to Raven’s anger “A stray knife?! What the hell does that mean!?” that was the only thing she overheard, but she looked forward to hearing just how Finn would dig himself out of that one.

                Not five minutes passed before she stopped in her tracks. She heard movement up ahead, coming straight towards her. Whatever it was, was running full pelt, and didn’t sound like it had any intentions of slowing down. 

                She slipped the rifle from her back and aimed it at the moving shrubbery ahead.

                Her heart pounded in her ears as it came closer. Her finger slipped onto the trigger, ready if necessary. She strained to make out more of the sound. Two feet, she thought; another moment of listening revealed the sound of a woman puffing at the effort of running that fast.

                Clarke looked up from the scope, it was coming straight from the drop ship. She lowered the muzzle slightly but still held it ready.

                Octavia Blake revealed herself, not ten paces away. “O?” Clarke called, to try and find out why the girl was running. She clamped down on any thoughts that she was running away from something. That wasn’t helpful at all.

                “There you are!” Octavia stopped and leant her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “Lincoln came back; He says Anya wants to meet you and Bellamy now.”

                When Clarke didn’t say anything straight away she added “Like, right now right now!”

***

                They met up at the bridge, like last time. Clarke had given Octavia her rifle and pistol, making her sware not to reveal the latter to anyone. She kept Lexa's sword at her side.

                When she heard the rusting of leaves on the other side of the bridge, she slipped the sword off her waist and held it in her left hand. Lincoln glanced down at it, unsure. She ignored him, and gestured for Bellamy to follow her. Lincoln's hand shot out, grabbing his shoulder. "She goes alone."

                Bellamy puffed up his chest, ready to argue. Clarke put a hand on his chest and shoved him two steps backward from the Warrior. "Now's not the time for that." He clenched his jaw and stared at her. "We can't afford to fuck this up Bellamy. Wait here." His eyes sharpened at her, before flickering up to see Anya and her Warriors emerge through the trees.

                He took a step forward again. "They were supposed to be unarmed."

                "So was I," she gestured to the sword. "Sit tight." She didn't leave him room to argue. In the last two days they'd found a mutual peace between each other, but if she had to, she would scrap it for the larger peace they faced.

                Anya had already started crossing the bridge. When she saw Clarke start towards her, she straightened up further. Her eyes flicked down to the blade in her hands, and her pace slowed. Clarke raised both hands in submission, and continued walking.

                They met in the middle, but Anya stayed a few paces away, watching the weapon in her hands. "Your name is Clarke?" She nodded, her hands were still raised.

                "You're Anya, right? I was told you might know who this belongs to." She offered the Warrior the hilt of the sword, a gesture of peace that allowed her to keep the distance between them. Anya grabbed the blade, brought it up and inspected it.

                "Where did you get this?" It was a cautious question. The suspicion in Anya's eyes bore into her.

                "I found it in a clearing, west of where our ship crashed. I thought that it might've gotten lost there..."

                They weighed each other up, eyes scanning up and down, trying to discern just how volatile the woman in front of them could be. "One of my warriors says you approached him in the woods, claiming you meant us no harm. If that is true, then why did you have Lincoln captured and tortured?"

                "There was no torture, I assure you; but he did stab our friend with a poisoned blade... we just wanted to find out how to save him."

                "You entered his cave, with your weapons drawn."

                Clarke felt Anya coil up, tensed; this was where she made her mark. The warrior before her wasn't looking for excuses; she had to be firm and confident now... she hoped

                "Yes. Another of our friends was missing; she was chained inside that cave, and we went to get her back. It seems we've both made similar mistakes." She let the last word hang in the air between them. "but we wanna find a way to live together, in peace."

                A flash of movement behind Anya caught her attention. The direction of Clarke's gaze prompted Anya to look behind her as well.

                Clarke's eyes widened at the sight. It was the warrior from the Reaper tunnels. The short, broad woman, wrapped in dark blue leathers and dark steel armour atop. She spoke a few sharp words to the men on horseback at the end of the bridge, and began striding confidently towards them. Anya sighed a deep and exasperated sigh, before turning back to Clarke. "Say nothing, if you value this peace."

                The midnight warrior was a few paces behind them, when Anya finally addressed her. "Hod yu rein daun, Kom Hok." Clarke struggled to find a translation with her limited knowledge of the language. Hod was mind or hold, she had no idea what rein was, but it was possessive of the woman; and she was utterly stumped on daun. The tricky language used daun for a dozen different things in different contexts. She got half the last part at least, the midnight woman was of or from whatever Hok meant. Hold your tongue? Mind you place? Mind that one? It was something along those lines.

                "Anya, I would say I'm glad to see you, but I actually value my honesty." The Woman's voice was both smooth as honey and sharp as steel. Anya suppressed a grimace at her use of English.

                "Yu non dula daun hir, Kom Hok. Bants." You've no something something, of the Hok. Leave. Clarke guessed. Anya didn't seem pleased with this new arrival.

                "No business here?!" Clarke hadn't noticed before, but the midnight woman's words held an unusual cadence to them, like they were slightly accented, or she hadn't spoken English in a while. "This is exactly my business. I hold the title, Anya; and I will know what's going on." Her voice had turned sharp and commanding. Clarke unwillingly took half a step back.

                "As far as I'm concerned Hawk. You forfeited that title three years ago." Clarke definitely felt like she was intruding. Anya's eyes where sharp as flint and her voice was out of patience. She clearly no longer cared what Clarke overheard, falling straight back to English. "You do not wear the red, you were not sent here. I have my orders and your presence is not a part of any of them."

                The young warrior was not intimidated by Anya in the least. In fact, upon closer inspection, Clarke saw that the older woman was standing tense, and shifting from foot to foot, as though fidgeting under this Hawk's gaze. That's what Hok would be then. The Hawk, a title, a position of office. Clarke had never heard of it, but the midnight woman's curving war paint appeared almost beak like, now that Clarke knew to look.

                "You and I both want the same thing, Anya. We may not like it, but that is the truth." The midnight woman held out her hand, and Anya passed her Lexa's sword. The young warrior moved lightning quick, drawing the sword from the sheath and holding it out beside her in one flowing, perfect motion. When the blade stopped, it did not waver. Clarke had practised with the heavy blade for hours, and still, the effort of simply holding it steady was one that caused the point to shake. The warrior flipped the blade back once and was suddenly holding it with an inverse grip, eyes scanning its hilt. Just as quick as it was drawn, the sword vanished back into the sheath, and the warrior passed it back to Anya, settling her hands back on the blade that was attached to her hip.

                Clarke looked at The Hawk's sword, and found it to be of the same style as Lexa's. It was long, and curved, with a round guard and single edge. The woman's sword wasn't decorated though, it simply held the same, dark blue wrapped leather as the rest of her and the carved pommel with a single curved 'v,' just like the tip of her war paint on her chin. 

                When Anya received the blade, she raised a curious eyebrow to The Hawk. The midnight woman nodded once, and turned her steel grey eyes to Clarke.

                "Now, Sky Girl. You will tell me what you saw in Keryon Glad."

                And just like that, Clarke was thrown off the deep end. She didn't know who this person was, but she sounded like she knew Lexa. Anya didn't like her, and Lexa trusted Anya. Did that mean Clarke should disregard her as well? Anya had warned her not to speak to the new comer if Clarke valued peace, and there was nothing she wanted more.

                She gaped for a moment, thinking of all the plans she'd made and how they were all crumbling. Time was not being kind, it seemed. She shut her mouth and looked to Anya, looking for an excuse to avoid the midnight warrior's primal gaze.

                The tall warrior just nodded to her, permitting her to speak.

                She took a breath and tried to take the easy way out. "What's Keryon Glad?" that was a legitimate question. She was smart enough to know it meant the Clearing she'd died in, but she didn't know the language well enough to know the actual translation. What was the name of the place that had put her through all this grief?

                The Hawk's eyes flickered between her, and the surroundings, scanning trees, assessing threats. More than once they landed on the tense Bellamy Blake at the other end of the bridge. Her eyes would score into Clarke, whenever they came back to settle there, they were calculating in a way Clarke had never seen before. It felt like they were looking through her. "So you know some of our language, but not all of it. Interesting."

                At Clarke's shocked face, the woman grinned. It was a devilish look with a fire behind her colourless eyes; and Clarke had a vision of the chaos that could follow a grin like that.

                "Stop." Anya mumbled behind Hawk, and the woman drew her face back into the icy mask she'd held before.

                Clarke just looked between them, feeling so very lost in a world she'd thought she'd known.

                "Keryon Glad, Clarke Griffin, is The Soul's Glade. It is the place where all the spirits of the forest converge. It is a place of great power, and you will tell me what you saw, when trespassing its’ depths."

                "It was just a Clearing." Clarke swore, but she knew it was a lie. "Just a place with grass and a little pond, and I just found the Sword in the dirt there."

                "Branwoda." The woman spat "You entered Keryon Glad, you will tell me what it showed you. You owe me a blood dept twice over Clarke Griffin, and you will tell me what you saw!"

                Somehow the smaller woman towered over Clarke, getting right in her face with her cold words. Rapid footsteps  behind them lifted the midnight woman's steely gaze.

                "Call him off or I will kill him where he stands."

                Clarke's heart pounded in her chest. The warrior instilled in Clarke the primal fear of prey. She felt cornered and hunted, and The Hawk's words fell on empty ears for two long heart beats. When Clarke looked up, there was a furious frown on the woman's face, and her hands gripped the blade at her waist. It was the most expression she had seen from the cold impassive face, but now there was a broiling anger.

                She looked behind her, and saw Bellamy running towards them, Lincoln was chasing after him, but was still several paces behind.

                The world suddenly shifted back into focus and she yelled "Bellamy stop!" She moved and put herself between the furious and very bemused Blake. He slowed his sprint to a walk, but kept coming towards them. She felt the two women at her back weigh them, watching them. When he came level with them, he was more than displeased.

                "What the hell is going on here Clarke?" He stood with shoulders squared and feet planted beneath him, looking for a fight. "If this is their commander, I say we make our own peace." He gestured to The Hawk.

                That fire sparked behind the woman's eyes again, and Clarke was shocked at just how fast her cold face could turn to fire. "I don't think you would like that, little man." She said it mockingly, and Bellamy bristled. Not the least of this sting came from the fact that the warrior was a full head shorter than him.

                "Enough." Anya's voice was tired, as if telling off a child. She put a firm hand on The Hawks shoulder and pulled her back two steps, leaving a decent distance between them and the two Arkers. "You say you want peace. What do you have to offer?" The Hawk’s eyes still flickered at them, but she squared her stance, waiting for an answer.

                Clarke stayed looking at Bellamy until she was sure he wasn't about to jump at anyone. She turned slowly to the two warriors; unsure how her next words would be received. "I know how to cure the Reapers, and we can help you destroy the Mountain."

                They both stiffened, surprised by her words. "That's what the Glade showed me, I know how to defeat them, and my people can help."

                The Hawks eyes softened now, showing neither fire, nor ice, but a distant hope she hadn't dreamed to feel for many years. Clarke realised that the warrior was rash yes, but she was also passionate about her people, if her eyes were any judge. She seemed as fickle but as honest as the earth itself.

                Anya nodded once "I will inform The Commander of your claims, and tell you when a meeting has been made. Be ready to travel."

                She turned her back, and strode off towards her men. The Hawk stayed for a moment, staring the two of them up and down. "I know not why the forest chose you, but you had best be prepared to do whatever it takes." She nodded solemnly, and it almost felt like an apology before she too turned and disappeared into the woods.

                "What, the hell, was that?" Bellamy broke up the sentence to display his confusion further.

                "I'm not entirely sure. But it looks like we got what we wanted." Clarke turned to start heading back to the drop ship.

                "Hold on a second Princess. What did you promise them? We don't know how to do any of that shit. How to you destroy a whole mountain?"

                "I'll fill you in. Now hurry up, we've got a lot of work to do."

***

                There was more work to do than there were hours in the day. Once Raven had the Radio up and Running, she spent several hours informing the Ark of the conditions of the ground. Eventually, she convinced Bellamy to come and speak to Jaha, she'd given the Chancellor the same speech, of how he'd been a large part of the groups survival, and that the Ark had sent them all down there to die. They traded the information of Commander Shumway's fickle loyalties and together, they got him pardoned for all crimes on the Ark; just like the rest of them.

                Jaha seemed to forgive the man, because he'd done everything for Octavia. Perhaps being able to talk to his son again, put him in a more forgiving mood. When Bellamy was dismissed, they'd began talks of the drawings in her cell and plans to get the Ark on the ground, but she had to push him aside,  in favour of letting the Hundred talk to their families on the Ark.

                Jaha had been persistent that she should talk to her mother, but she'd told him she needed to be last in the line, in order to set an example for the others. Inside this was the fact that she had no idea how to explain the sketches in her cell or the things she knew.

                Before she left though, she requested a word with the Chancellor, off the record. "Sir, I need you to know something. We've been surviving here on the ground as a team, all on our own. We've made our own rules and found a peace that's more forgiving then the Ark. I would ask you to keep that in mind for when you reach the ground. Not everything has to be a death sentence."

                She was unyielding in her request. She would not be convinced of any other way and she would not allow him to shrug off the comment either. "Clarke, I know you're still angry about your father, but-"

                "No." He stopped mid sentence, unaccustomed to being interrupted. "His death has nothing to do with this. We are on the ground now. We're the ones that will be making a truce with the grounders and I need to know that when the rest of you get here, that truce will stand. Everyone needs to be equally informed, or none of this will matter. Trust me sir, when I say you don't want the first thing you experience on the ground to be war." It seemed she had more to say to him than she had though.

                He sat impassive at the other end of the line. "How much do you know?" it was accusatory, there was an edge of warning to the question, and Clarke would be hard pressed to talk herself out of this one.

                Unless she made an excuse. "My father wasn't a stupid man, sir. He knew about the low oxygen supply, and about the amount of seats on the exodus ship. You can get everyone on the ground Chancellor, but you will need to be honest with your people if you want to avoid a riot."

                "Jake found a way to get everyone down? How?"

                "I'll tell you after these kids get to speak to their parents. Get Shumway arrested and remember that someone sent him to have you shot. You're on the verge of rebellion sir, only the hard truth will calm peoples nerves and lead them to acceptance." She cut him off once again. "I'll send Wells in." Then she took of the headset and left the tent.

***

                Bellamy seemed to come into his own. Perhaps this time he wouldn't need the major failure of three hundred souls on his chest to realise he was born to lead. They settled their differences and became a force to be reckoned with.

                Together they got the wall built, the people fed and the camp to start looking more like a cohesive unit, than a bunch of delinquents.

***

                Two days had passed before she could put the confrontation off no longer. After all the other hundred had talked to their families, there was just Clarke left. She hesitantly entered the tent and put on the headset, seeing her mother on the other side.

                "Clarke." Her mother whispered her name and it felt like a warm embrace. She saw tears in the eyes of Abigail Griffin and she felt the same thing in her own.

                "Mom." She wanted to reach out a hand and hold her. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed her mother until right now.

                "Oh sweetheart, I'm so proud of you." And Clarke found her response form in a lump at the back of her throat. "I don't know how you did it Clarke, but I'm so proud."

                Clarke couldn't hold back the sob that escaped her. Her breath hitched and she found it hard to find words. Her mother wasn't babying her, she wasn't telling her that she needed to do more, she wasn't telling her what she'd done wrong. She was proud.

                "Mom." This was only the second time Clarke had seen her mother since the Mountain. The first time she'd been so preoccupied with giving her all the information she could, but now... Her mom was here as her mom. Not as a councillor, not as a Doctor; but for her, as her mother. And she'd missed that. She felt sorry for not saying goodbye last time, before she'd run off into the woods. She felt the weight of her decisions pierce her in a way she'd be shielding herself from for so long. "It's so hard." She felt a twinge in her chest. It seemed so whiney.

                She'd fought so hard, both times. She had no idea if anything was changing at all. She saw the faces of the Mountain men sear themselves behind her eyes; she saw every one of the dead hundred, the people she'd tried to protect. It was all so hard and she was so tired.

                "Oh Clarke, look at me." A great gasping breath lifted Clarke’s eyes to the roof of the tent. She steadied herself before finding her mother's eyes through the screen. "You've done so well Clarke. You just hang in there, okay. I'll be down there with you soon."

                "No!" it was a retched betrayal of her voice, but once the word was out, she couldn't fight it anymore. "Please. You can't be on the Exodus ship." She faltered. The Mountain could be listening. She couldn't tell her mother about the jammers on the ground. Maybe she could find a way to blow them up, but that would take with it any chances she had of getting inside the mountain to stop them. There would be no quiet entry into their halls disguised as peace. Could she make do without that?

                She didn't know. There was so much she didn't know. She was flying so blind, and yet she knew so much. How did every step feel so alien and yet so familiar? "Mom please." She had to convince her. "You have to trust me. You can't be on the exodus ship, it- I have a bad feeling about it. It won't-" it won't make it to the ground. At least not with the Mountain still standing.

                What was she going to do?

                She talked to her mom for a long time. Abby had calmed her down and then begged her to tell her what the ground was like. Clarke told her how beautiful it was. She told her how wonderful it was to eat food that had flavour and smell the sweet air.

                They talked about the grounders down here, Clarke told them that they'd seen powerful warriors, but that there were children and elderly holed up in quiet villages all around.

                Clarke did not tell her that she'd seen all this before. It was too hard and farfetched to say over a radio. She didn't know if she had it in her to tell another person anyway.

                She talked about getting the Ark to the ground, and told her it had all been her father's idea. They just needed to calculate what parts of the Ark wouldn't break up during re-entry.

                Clarke revelled in the feeling of talking to her mother once again. It had been months for her, she'd seen so much. Her mother listened patiently, prompted her when she trailed off and even made her smile once or twice. The pull of her cheek had felt foreign after so long without smiling.

                She was so grateful to see her mother safe again.

***

                She started working with Raven to produce a working defibrillator and prototype those sound devices that repelled the Reapers. Perhaps she'd have something ready to demonstrate to Lexa when she finally got through to a meeting with the Commander of the Twelve Clans.

                The thought of the meeting set Clarke's head spinning, unsure what to think and how hopeful she should be.

                She heard no word from Anya, Lexa or any of the other Trikru warriors. Octavia said she'd spoken to Lincoln a few times, but all this went well above his head.

                She couldn't remember who's idea it was, but everyone started having dinner together, all one hundred and two of them. Each night they would go around and people would take turns to tell their stories. She wanted everyone to know everyone else's names.

                Finn told everyone that he hadn't taken a space walk, Raven told them she had. Bellamy told them that he'd shot Jaha for his sister, and Octavia had told them how alien everything had seemed on the Ark, and the wonder of the masquerade. Ellie told them that she had stolen parts for a series of pet projects, a device that could make music and robot that could travel the hull of the Ark from the outside, able to make repairs without the need for zero G mechanics.        

                Raven had scoffed at her, with a 'gee, thanks' but been impressed with the woman's ingenuity.

                Glen told them that Ellie would get so caught up in her projects that she'd skip meals, so he'd stolen some food to keep her going. Robert told them about climbing in the vents after his little neighbour. Charlotte told them about assaulting a guard for taking her parents things. Murphy told them about setting fire to the guards quarters that arrested his father.

                Most of the hundred where arrested for helping other people, or lashing out after the floating of family or friends. Some of them were just trying to have fun, and others were trying to survive. Nothing any of them had done, deserved a death sentence.

                Clarke made sure to remember all their names, and their stories. She would not forget. Not ever. 

***

                When she wasn't having nightmares, she dreamt of her last moments in the other time. She dreamt of lying next to that wonderful, powerful warrior, and sharing stories, eating sweet red berries and falling asleep.

                It was during such a dream that Clarke was woken with a shove to her shoulder. She startled when she saw Octavia directly above her. "C'mon Griffin, We've gotta go meet their leader."