Chapter 37
Lincoln is heavy - really heavy. Three of us carry him together, and all three of us struggle. Bellamy handles it with most ease, which isn't surprising. I, on the other hand, feel like my arms will give in after a few miles. They don't though - we push onward, as fast as we can seeing as Lincoln could wake up any minute, and I don't think his lousily tied hands and feet would stop him in a Reaper rage. Every time I want to say something, I decide against it - wasted strength. It seems like ages until we make it to the old Drop-Ship, gallons of sweat that have gotten in my eyes. But at least Lincoln is out cold throughout.
''We have to tie him up.''
''Where?'' I ask Bellamy. We look around. The Drop-Ship barely looks the way I remember it. It's wiped empty. I was with Rand the last time I'd been here, I realize, and for a moment I wonder where he is and what he's doing. That thought is fleeting, gone before it came.
''Upper level,'' Bellamy urges, ''Come on.''
''What?'' Octavia asks.
''We have to,'' Bellamy says, guilt seeping into his voice at the remembrance of what he's done, ''We have to, O,'' he says again, as though to convince himself more than anyone else.
Octavia swallows something painful, before she gives a determined nod. I admire her for it, for all of it. But I still can't help feeling that this fight will be lost and it will scar her forever.
''Here we go again,'' I sigh, helping them haul Lincoln to the upper level. It's the hardest part thus far, but we manage.
When we string him up the way we did when he was the enemy, the familiarity of it is almost suffocating.
Enemy. What is he now?
''When he wakes up, he's gonna pull at the chains with all his strength,'' Bellamy says, tightening it up, ''It needs to hold.''
''Bell, it will hold,'' Octavia says, ''You're gonna cut off his blood circulation.''
''O, we're gonna help him, but in the mean time I need to make sure he doesn't hurt any of us.''
''He won't,'' I say, ''We need to get back to camp and get Clarke. If we can do it before he goes ballistic, even better. You should go. I'll stay with O.''
''I think I can take care of myself,'' she replies, not unkindly, ''You should go with him.''
''As much as I hate him going out there alone, you need me more,'' I admit, ''There's about a million ways in which things could go wrong here.''
''She's right,'' Bellamy says, placing a hand at the small of my back, adding a more quiet ''Thank you.''
''Just get back here quickly, okay?''
He kisses my lips and says: ''As soon as I can.'' Then he leaves.
''Now we wait,'' Octavia says, sitting on the floor and looking up at Lincoln with the most heart-broken expression.
''Now we wait,'' I sigh.
*
It isn't long after Bellamy's gone that Lincoln wakes up. I am surprised he hasn't awoken earlier; the shock had knocked him out for quite a long while. His awakening is violent, as expected; but we still jump aback when he pulls on his chains. They will hold. They have to hold.
It will be hours before Bellamy is back, we know. It's not a short trek to Camp Jaha and back. We know, and yet I still half-expect him at any moment. I am on edge - both of us are, Octavia just appears calmer. She keeps a safe distance away from Lincoln, and she isn't having any of her panicky episodes now - I think because she knows it isn't an option. And maybe because now that we finally have Lincoln out, she has to worry about whether Clarke could actually help him at all. Maybe that's why she isn't pacing all over the place like I am. That's why we barely share a few words in the whole time we're stuck there.
Nothing but an exchange or two, and the sound of chains being pulled and Lincoln growling like an animal. I think I would make the wait more difficult for her if I made her talk to me. She seems to have found her own way of dealing with it.
When Clarke and Bellamy finally come, the relief it brings me seems to make my entire body physically feel pounds lighter. I don't remember deciding to throw my arms around Bellamy's waist like he'll dissipate into thin air if I don't grasp for him. I also don't remember actively worrying, but I must have. When his hands caress my back and his lips find my forehead though, everything feels okay again for a moment, even though it isn't. Nothing is okay.
''It's ok, it's ok,'' Bellamy tells Clarke when she jumps back at the sight of Lincoln, ''He's been restrained.'' Lincoln only growls.
''I can't believe we're back here again,'' Clarke says weakly, exasperated.
''Can you help him?'' Octavia asks.
''I don't know,'' Clarke shakes her head, staring at Lincoln as he growls and snarls and pulls on his chains and wants nothing but to devour her whole, ''I knew Mount Weather controlled the Reapers. I had no idea they were creating them. If they can do that to Lincoln... What are they doing to our friends?''
''We can't think about that now,'' Bellamy says - he looks worried, more worried than before, ''Can you help him or not?''
''I can try.''
''Are you okay?'' I ask him, frowning up at him. Something is out of place. ''Did something happen?''
''The Grounders gave us an ultimatum,'' he says, scowling, ''Either we leave the camp, or they attack.''
''What?!'' Octavia all but shrieks before I can.
''No decision's been made yet,'' Bellamy adds, as though to pacify us while Clarke inspects Lincoln's body as closely as she possibly can with him in a rage, ''We'll figure it out,'' he turns to Octavia, ''You have enough to worry about right now so don't worry about that.''
She nods, albeit hesitantly.
''I need some air,'' I say, barely audibly, before I go down and step outside. The air on the upper level was always unnaturally warm, even back when we lived here, but now it is suffocating.
The sun is very low in the sky - it will set soon. The soft breeze gives me a shiver, though it's only partially because of the drop in temperature. I cross my arms on my chest instinctively. The clear cold air makes it easier to breathe, but it's all catching up with me now.
''Hey,'' I can hear Bellamy behind me before I can feel his hand touch tentatively behind my elbow, ''You alright?''
''I don't know,'' I say honestly, taking another deeper breath.
''Hey,'' he calls again, turning me to face him, ''We're gonna be fine.''
''Are we? When does it end, Bellamy?''
He frowns. He doesn't have an answer. All he has are his hands holding my arms gently. All he can do is pull me into a hug the way he always did. But that won't make things okay, not truly.
''When does it all end?'' I ask again, ''Because it seems to me that we're going in circles. Never-fucking-ending. We're right back where we started, and I'm not talking about Lincoln.''
He knows that perfectly well himself. I know that he knows, but he also still wants to comfort me by some natural instinct of his, despite having no comforting answers to give me. His hand moves up to my neck, his thumb brushing over my jaw.
''We're doing the best we can,'' he says, looking right into my eyes, as though to convince me, ''We have no other choice. But do to the best we can, and hope that's enough. As always.''
''I can't go through another battle like that, Bellamy,'' I shake my head, suddenly at the verge of something akin to despair, though I know I won't cry - It has surprised me, my own words come out of my mouth unplanned, ''I can't. I don't want to, I can't-''
''Hey,'' he finally pulls me into that hug, his arms around me, my face in the crook of his neck, ''Shhh, hey,'' his hand goes through my hair, ''It might not even come to that.''
''But it might,'' I sau, allowing myself to be temporarily comforted by his touch and warmth and closeness and scent, ''And I can't watch you fight before a storm of fire again,'' I admit, ''I don't want to see flames ever again. Enough people have died-''
He pulls back only to cup my chin and lift my face just enough so I face him. ''We're gonna do the best we can to stop that from happening. We can do better this time around, right? No need to go in circles,'' he smiles.
''Right,'' I indulge him, ''But we can't leave either. Where would we go? We'd die on the way, and not to mention that I would rather die than leave forty seven of our peole in that mountain to just-''
''We'll figure it out,'' he stops me from rambling, ''Jaha says we should pack our bags immediately but-''
''Wait, what?'' I shake my head like I must have heard it wrong, ''Jaha?!''
''Long story, I'll tell you about it later. My point is, Abby isn't backing him on it. No decision's been made. And we still have time to figure it out,'' he kisses the crease between my eyebrows, then my lips, ''And we are not leaving our friends in that mountain.''
*
''He's convulsing,'' Clarke announces, though it's pretty clear by the way Lincoln's body shakes against the chains.
''So, what does it mean?''
''What happened to his leg?'' she asks.
''I shot him,'' Octavia replies.
''Clarke, he's lost a lot of blood,'' Bellamy warns.
''Can you shine the light on his neck?'' Clarke asks. I volunteer.
''Needle marks.''
''You think he's been drugged?''
''Maybe.''
''It sure as hell looks like withdrawal symptoms,'' I suggest, ''I've seen my share of those. Back on the Ark.''
A sudden blow sends me flying backwards. I trip on something, and I would have fallen on my butt if my back didn't hit the wall first. Someone has shouted Lincoln's name in the mean time, but for a short moment I am so disoriented I almost forget where I am. For a split-second, everything is black. When my vision comes back, it all looks like a dream. Because there's no way in hell Lincoln is loose and rampaging through the Drop-Ship, chains still on his hands. When he turns, they fly about. No one can near him really, let alone restrain him. That thought sinking in slowly is what makes me wake up from my daze.
Lincoln has made toward Clarke and pushed her back when I spot my bow and quiver lying not too far away from me. Carefully, I literally sneak to it. I nock an arrow and pull back to my ear, aiming right at him. I have a clear target now - as much as he's moving, the others are managing to escape him every time and pull back at a distance.
We're here to help Lincoln, but I wouldn't let him hurt anyone either. This isn't a hard choice. He swings one of the chains at Bellamy when I take a long breath. I might have to.
''Stop!'' Octavia shrieks, and I know she's screaming at me, ''Don't! Are you crazy?''
''Give me a better idea!''
Her shout seems to have snatched Lincoln's attention, because he's now back on her. She evades him, shouting at me again not to shoot. I look to Clarke. She looks back like she's torn between nodding at me and agreeing with Octavia. She looks like Lincoln has punched her hard enough to make her wanna sit down for three hours at least. Bellamy is too busy; he's pulled on one of Lincoln's chains and Lincoln has turned back toward him.
Bellamy makes one large step back, and my arm muscles almost sting, and my hand pulls just a milimeter further back, and my fingers feel just a little more loose, and I'm just a split moment away from letting the arrow fly. But then Octavia steps in - she must have said something too that I let slip in all that mess because I am too horrified about Bellamy handling that chain - and just as Lincoln is about to swing at him and I am about to shoot, Octavia knocks the man out. Lincoln topples down and onto the floor, once again.
My arms relax. For the first time I can feel warm blood trickling down my right temple. The adrenaline is leaving my system, and the familiar shakiness is back in my limbs. I slide down against the wall and onto the floor. I try to take steady breaths.
''Everyone alright?'' Bellamy asks.
''Yeah,'' Clarke and I breathe at the same time.
''Let's get him back up there.''
I can't see a way out of this.