Chapter 38
This time we tie up Lincoln so he's lying on the floor and is more approachable to Clarke. This time, Bellamy really makes sure he won't get loose and swing one at anyone anymore. My head is fine, just some bleeding under the impact of the metal around Lincoln's hands. It stops pretty soon, though I did clean it well just in case. We all have bigger things to worry about, and a scratch on my temple is frankly the last thing on my mind.
''We have to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out,'' Clarke explains, ''Hold his leg down.''
Lincoln growls at every movement, every way we try to even touch him. Octavia tries to give him some water to drink, but he just spills all of it, despite his dehydrated state. She looks beyond distressed, but she just says ''I'll get some more'' and leaves like this isn't taking that much of a toll on her at all. Has she always been this strong?
''O, once the drug is out of his system, he'll be ok,'' I hear Bellamy say to her.
''You can't protect me from this one, big brother.''
Bellamy is hurting, and there is nothing I can do now.
I watch Clarke work with deft and skillful hands. I always liked to watch her work - it made me learn and it kept me focused on the immediate problem instead of thinking about every single one we had. It has the same effect now.
''Your mom would be proud,'' Bellamy tells her as she finally dresses Lincoln's leg wound. He's out cold now again, having fainted from the raw pain.
''My mom would know how to save him.''
When Octavia comes back, she doesn't come back alone. A Grounder stands behind her, and Bellamy has reached for a weapon before any of us can even blink.
''Bellamy, don't!'' Octavia steps up in front of him, ''He's Lincoln's friend and their healer!''
''He's seizing again,'' Clarke exclaims in complete despair. Lincoln is shaking violently, awake again, foam coming out of his mouth, and she has no idea what to do. Octavia panics. We all stand frozen. I stare at the Grounder, unsure. The newcomer just kneels next to his friend right away and reaches for a vial, trying to get some of the liquid inside Lincoln's mouth.
''What is that?'' Clarke asks suspiciously.
''Yu gonplei ste odon,'' the Grounder says to Lincoln. It rings all the bells. I must have heard that before somewhere, Rand has to have taught me this one. I know, I know, I know, but I can't recall in the moment, and yet for some reason I also know it's wrong, everything is wrong, it gives me a bad feeling, it doesn't mean anything good.
''Wait!'' I say, uncertainly, afraid of my own self, because I could be trying to prevent this man from saving Lincoln's life. And yet some small voice inside of me still pushes on - wrong wrong wrong this is wrong.
''Clarke,'' I call, but I have no idea what I'm calling for. She looks back, with an expression that has to be mirroring mine. She seems to be putting it together, and then, just as the drop is about to fall into Lincoln's mouth, she catches it with the palm of her hand.
''No!'' she growls.
''Back off!'' Bellamy reacts immediately, pointing his rifle at the Grounder, ''Right now!''
''Yu gonplei ste odon,'' Clarke murmurs, the realization finally dawning on her, ''It's what they say before death!''
''Your fight is over,'' I nod, remembering, feeling stupid and angry and suddenly so helpless. I still have so much to learn. I still need to become so much better.
''He's not trying to heal him,'' Clarke says, ''He's trying to kill him.''
''Nyko? Is it true?'' Octavia asks.
''Yes,'' the man replies solemnly, ''Death is the only way.''
''Hold on, there could be a way to bring him back,'' Clarke argues.
''None that I've ever seen,'' Nyko replies.
''We have to go. The camp's leaving.''
So many things happen so quickly now, I can barely register it all. I didn't expected Finn to come, but there he is, having climbed up unannounced to warn us about the camp, and then there's Nyko turning on him trying to strangle the life out of him in less than a split second, calling him a murderer and everything else I can't even catch; then Bellamy has a gun trained at Nyko yelling at him to let Finn go, and then Octavia is screaming at Bellamy not to shoot at their only healer as she's standing right in front of the barrel. I turn to Clarke, like it's the only thing I can do, and she throws me a guard's baton without having to tell me anything - I know what I have to do. I catch it, step up, and buzz Nyko into a sleep.
I've never done that before. The feeling is weird, like there's something that remains in the tips of my fingers. We all share a moment of complete dumbfoundedness, and all I can do is stare at my right hand as it still tingles.
''Lincoln! He's not breathing!'' Octavia panics again.
Clarke kneels down immediately, checks Lincoln's pulse, then gets down to massaging his heart. Fear has risen all through me, and I instinctively clasp my fingers around Bellamy's forearm. There is nothing we can do but watch, and pray to whatever God is left.
For a really long moment there I think he's gone. My heart beats like mad in apprehension - I don't want Lincoln to die. I may have been ready to hurt him before to protect my own, but this man has done so much for us, and if not for that then only for Octavia - I really want Lincoln to live with all my heart.
I hold my breath until he starts breathing again, I realize. When he comes back, I release it. We all seem to, collectively. Octavia smiles but looks like she's ready to cry. I think we all feel like hugging the life out of Clarke.
''I'm gonna go check on Finn,'' I say, but I think only Bellamy really hears me in all that, giving me a small nod. I need to check on my friend, but I also need some fresher air that the lower level provides. The air has become so close and stifling on the upper level, and it has little to do with the actual oxygen. Everything is too much.
I find Finn sitting alone in the lower level, seemingly deep in thought. He's shrouded in darkness as the light of the moon barely reaches into the corner where he sits.
''Hey,'' I say when I climb down, my feet touching the ground. He only looks toward me, then back at his feet.
''I was going to ask you if you're okay, but I know you're not,'' I say as I step up to him, ''Of course you're not, that's normal. But you're gonna be.''
''Some things stay with you,'' he says quietly, his voice sounding a bit broken.
''They do,'' I agree, ''And you learn to live with them. How's your throat?''
He scoffs, or maybe chuckles humorlessly under his breath, I can't tell. ''My throat is fine,'' he says, like I asked him the stupidest question in the universe.
''Good,'' I say, ''Clarke stabilized Lincoln for now. He's gonna be okay too.''
He shakes his head lightly - like he doesn't really believe that - the locks of his pretty hair dancing against his cheekbones. Finn did an awful thing, but he's still our Finn. He did an awful thing, and yet we all did plenty of those. And as awful as it was, if punishments are to be served he would have to wait in line.
I can't justify what he did, but I can forgive it. Because this is our Finn. And he seems to be punishing himself constantly anyway, and though I know that isn't enough - that the families of those who died at his hands wouldn't ever in a million years deem it enough - damn it, he is our Finn. Broken, but still in there somewhere. The urge I feel to help him put himself together is overwhelming. But he needs to do that himself.
''I miss you, Finn,'' I admit, half-surprising myself. It's the complete, most simple truth. He looks up to meet my eyes, maybe a bit surprised himself. I smile. He can't find it in him to smile back. That's okay.
He takes a short moment. Then he says: ''I miss myself.'' He's said it so quietly and timidly, it's as though he's ashamed to admit it.
''Come back then,'' I say, ''You can always come back. You're not too far gone. You're not nearly too far gone.''
He's back to staring at his feet now. He isn't yet ready to talk this much, I know.
''You can always come back,'' I repeat, placing a kiss on his cheek. I leave him with that. He looks like he needs to process it, to process a lot of things, and any moment more with me would be an intrusion. So I climb back up, an ache in my heart so bad it has me a bit surprised, in all truth.
On the upper level, not much has changed, except that Nyko is awake again.
''He was dead,'' he says, beyond confused, ''How did you do that?''
''You've tried bringing Reapers back before?'' Clarke asks him, ''And they died like this?''
Nyko nods. Suddenly, Clarke has that look in her eyes - that look she always has when she comes up with something, like something has just clicked in her mind.
''What?'' I ask, ''Clarke.''
''I know how to stop the attack,'' she says.
*
Clarke only gives us the short of it before she hurries back to Camp Jaha with Finn. Apparently, she thinks curing Reapers in exchange for a peace with Grounders seems like a plausible deal. She really believes it could work, but I can't help the unsettling, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I hope she's right, but I've seen too much to believe it would just go that smoothly. Not to mention we're not even sure it's possible to cure Reapers. Lincoln is stable for now, but we haven't cured him. The drug isn't out of his system yet, and once it does leave - will he survive? Clarke could go and bring back Dr. Abby, but I don't think even she would have the answer to that question.
I'm glad Finn and Clarke are talking to each other again. She seems to have made peace with everything and forgiven him. I really believe that's essential in Finn's recovery - if anything could bring him back to us and to his old self, it would be Clarke's extended hand.
Octavia does what she can - she washes Lincoln's skin and tends to his fever and tries to get some water in him all throughout the night. She doesn't rest. Neither Bellamy nor I try to ask her to rest either, we know better. All we can do is sit back against the wall and watch, our weapons close at hand. I don't think I've ever seen Bellamy so worried, as he watches his sister. The thought of Lincoln dying now must horrify him; he knows what that could do to Octavia.
I take his hand and interlace our fingers. He squeezes my hand just a bit, like he needs to hold on to something.
''Your sister is stronger than you think, Bell,'' I tell him quietly.
''She shouldn't have to be.''
Having protected her all her life, losing that option now has to have him paralyzed. His hands are tied like never before. And I can't help him.
I lay down my head on his shoulder, my thumb brushing over his knuckles. It seems to help just a bit - he sinks back against the wall just a tad more relaxed.
''Abby's gonna help him,'' I say, ''She doesn't stop until she does, always.''
He doesn't say anything to that, but we stay like that, fingers interlaced, my head on his shoulder, until I doze off.
I had no plans on sleeping, and I sure as hell do not remember the moment I blacked out, but it had to have been the exhaustion catching up with me. When I wake up, it's still the dead of night, but a couple of hours have to have passed. Octavia is passed out on the floor next to Lincoln, unable to sit upright any longer. It's no wonder.
Bellamy's fingers are in my hair, massaging my scalp gently, and I realize he hasn't closed his eyes once all through the night. When I stir and open my eyes, he whispers for me to sleep some more.
''No, you should sleep a bit,'' I whisper back, placing a hand on his cheek, ''One of these days you're just gonna drop, Bell.''
''That would be a first,'' he offers a small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
''Come on,'' I pat his cheek before I make to get up, ''I'm taking watch.''
He pulls me back by my wrist before I can move, and I flunk right back on my butt.
''No, you ain't.''
''Bell-''
''You're staying right here with me,'' he says, pulling me into him, my back to his chest, his arms around me, his face in my hair. I give in all too easily. When he holds me like that, time seems to stop. And there is no death or danger or heartbreak, there are no worries and desperate cries for our people and no sickness and no weapons needed close at hand. There is no tomorrow. And I need that break in time.
''The braids look good on you,'' he says, ''But don't go too Grounder on me.''
''I'm not even gonna reply to that joke,'' I snicker. He huffs in a weak laugh under his breath, placing a kiss in my hair.
''You should have gone back with them, your dad must be worried,'' he reminds.
''Finn will tell him I'm alright,'' I reply, ''I told you I'm not leaving you now.''
His arms around me tighten just a bit at that.
''This thing might actually work,'' he says after a while, ''Clarke's proposal.''
''Yeah, but if it doesn't...''
''We'll survive, as we always do,'' he finishes, ''And then we'll help our friends.''
''We still have zero plans for that, if this whole thing with Clarke fails,'' I remind him.
''I don't care. I'll find a way.''
''Bell, if it comes to a fight this time,'' I start, afraid of saying it out loud, ''You know they'll be smarter this time, right? Their host will be bigger. They'll be more prepared, after what we did the last time. All the back up we got from the Ark won't do shit-''
''We'll figure out something new-''
''It was last minute action that saved both our asses the last time, Bellamy. We've been lucky. I don't know how far that luck stretches,'' I admit, ''Should it come to a fight... Bell, I really don't have a good feeling.''
''Don't say that-''
''I'm serious. I don't know how I've survived everything so far, but I really don't think-''
''Hey,'' he cups my face and turns me around so I face him - he's frowning in worry and something akin to anger, ''You're not gonna die. And neither am I. Clarke's gonna do this. And if she doesn't, we'll figure it out. Okay?''
''Okay.''
''Don't lose the faith on me now.''
''I won't,'' I say, before I kiss his lips. He kisses back, and the electricity that buzzes all through my body has reached my very feet. Whatever this is between us is strong in its own, to me half-incomprehensible, way.
I dare not name it.