Author's Note: Hi =) welcome to my first The 100 fanfic story! Don't know if this will be a one time thing or not but this fic is the result of rewatching season 2 over New Year and anxiously waiting for season 3 to start and needing to process some stuff. I wrote this a week or so before season 3 started and sent it to my lovely beta, Becca, but she has been stupidly busy so I finally just decided to post it as is. So any mistakes are my own, I apologise in advance, I'm a bit out of shape, writing-wise but this was a very nice way for me to process my Clarke feelings at the end of season 2 and flex my writing muscles a bit ;)

I really hope you like it, it's not much and has probably been done a hundred times already but I actually haven't read much fanfiction in ages, nevermind The 100 specific fanfiction! But I felt like I'd go crazy if I didn't write something!

Anywho, thanks to everyone who reviewed my Glee story, I know I said I'd try and keep up with posting but I suck and life got kinda shit and my depression got the best of me again =/ but I have it written, I just need to type it up! So please don't give up on me just yet. You're all awesome =)

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing. If I did... Raven and Octavia would definitely be together already!


Through the Fire and the Flames

The flames crept up the branch, licking higher and higher until the whole thing was ablaze. The bark cracked, charred, dried leaves went up in smoke as a solitary beetle searched helplessly for an escape. A crack echoed around the small camp, bouncing from tree to tree. The heat has split the branch in two giving the hungry flames unrestricted access to the rotten insides of the dead wood.

A girl stared unblinkingly into the fire. She watched it eat at the wood, consuming it inch by inch until there was not much more than ash and blackened lumps left. Only then, when it looked ready to die, did she reach down beside her and place another dead branch upon the ashes of the last. It caught slowly and soon the forest around her was bathed in a flickering glow again. She had fallen still, resuming her intense stare into the flames. Her hair hung, a matted red, framing her sun-darkened, dirt-smeared face.

A howl sounded across the forest from some distance away. Another answered it a moment later, this time much closer. The girl didn't stir. All at once the forest seemed to come alive: twigs snapped, a bird startled from its home in a nearby thicket, a two headed deer broke through the tree line opposite her, froze then bolted. Silence enveloped her again – the forest almost seemed to be holding its breath.

A shadow moved behind her, morphing into a human shape, firelight glinting off a weapon as it arced down towards the girl at speed. The blade found only wood, embedding itself deep as surprise registered in the Grounder's eyes. He spun, relinquishing his weapon as the girl kicked him square in the chest. He crashed backwards over the log she had been sat on, a hand landing in the heart of the fire. He snatched his burnt limb back and rolled out of reach as a branch was hurled his way.

He was on his feet again, a second blade in hand. It sliced through the air as he slashed once, twice, three times at her, each strike driving her back. He lashed out with his foot catching her off guard and sending her sprawling to the floor of the forest, breath knocked out of her. He threw himself on top of her as she tried to scramble backwards, his bulk overpowering her, knife at her throat.

The only thing standing between the cold steel of his blade and the exposed skin of her neck was her own right hand wrapped firmly around his wrist keeping it just out of reach. Her left hand searched about them for something, anything to use as a weapon. He bore down on her, putting his weight behind the knife, eyes and mouth set in determination, focused. The blade bit into her flesh, blood trickling down to mingle with the soil. His gaze flickered up to meet hers. He saw no fear, no pain, no panic, none of the usual emotions he had been privy to in the eyes of those he had killed before. He saw only the flames and his own dark, confusion-flecked eyes reflected back at him.

His resolve wavered. She shook him loose for just a fraction of a second, stretching her free hand into the fire and pulling what was left of the blazing branch to her. The Grounder recoiled with a cry as his world narrowed to a wall of fire and searing pain. He landed heavily in the dirt, fingers clawing at his head trying to put himself out. The girl was on her feet. He searched the dirt and grass for his knife trying to ignore the pain as she advanced on him. He whirled, still on his knees, blade out, and froze. His eyes fixed on the gun she held to his head, the barrel a dark gaping hole of nothingness threatening to engulf him and extinguish his light.

"Don't make me."

His remaining good eye flickered up to meet hers, taking her in. Her chest rose and fell as she regained her breath, her shirt darkening with blood where he had nicked her throat, the branch still in her left hand as the flames licked at her fingers… She barely noticed the pain, never taking her eyes off the Grounder.

"Go. Please," her voice was quiet, tired. Whatever she was feeling in that moment he had no idea. Neither her face nor her voice betrayed her.

He climbed to his feet, putting his knife away with deliberate care, keeping his hands where she could see them. He paused for a moment, a question on his lips but before he could give voice to it her finger moved to rest on the trigger. He backed away slowly towards the tree line and the blanket of darkness that would protect him. He sensed movement to his left. Before he could call a warning a figure formed from out of the shadows – a man he didn't recognise – and ran at the girl.

The shot rang out, sending nearby creatures scurrying away, and stopping the other man dead before he had even gotten within throwing distance. She hadn't taken her eyes off him and a moment later the gun was trained back on him again.

"Don't come back."

He nodded, turned and vanished from the shrinking bubble of light into the trees. Her eyes stayed on the place he had disappeared for a long few seconds before, satisfied, she lowered her weapon. Turning, she flung the now smoldering branch back into the dying fire and released the clip on the gun. Empty. Only one left in the chamber then she was out.

Her eyes strayed to the body a few feet outside her make-shift camp, then back down to the gun. The muscles in her jaw flexed and clenched as she slid the clip back in. For a moment her finger went to the trigger and the barrel strayed towards her. Something flickered in her eyes, her brow furrowed, then her mouth hardened again and the moment was gone.

She clicked the safety back on and pushed the gun into the waistband of her jeans. The Grounder's weapon was still embedded where it had struck the log. She grasped the hilt firmly and tugged. After a brief struggle she freed it. Giving it a look over, she wiped the blade on her torn jacket until she was satisfied and slipped it through her belt to hang at her hip.

Her fingers caught her attention then, the ones on her left hand were badly burnt, the skin blistered, her finger prints all but gone. She winced as she pressed them to the cut on her throat. She welcomed the pain, let it flow out into her body until, for a while at least, it was all she could feel. Anything, even second degree burns and her life balancing on the blade of a stranger's knife, was better than the unrelenting guilt that ate at her every second of every day.

"I bear it so they don't have to." It came out quiet, whispered as a mantra.

Once the pain had subsided to a dull ache she kicked dirt over the fire and walked into the forest, past the body, without looking back.


AN: I hope you liked it, lemmie know what you thought or if you have any comments about the current season of The 100! I'm always up for a good geek-out =)