Note: To paraphrase a fair better writer than I – "I wrote this to bury Finn, not to praise him." I think Finn should die so that the Grounders can have justice. However, I also think there is something very sad about the fact that the guy who didn't even want the guns in camp is the one who became a mass murderer. This is not meant to be either anti-Finn or Finn apologia.
One of the guard was sitting with Finn on a bench outside the council room as the council members decided his fate, although Finn suspected this debate was a formality. After all, they had no other choice.
"You know what has to happen here, right?" said the woman softly.
His throat felt clotted. "I know. If they decide not to do it I'll just offer myself up."
This was a lie. He would not. He wanted to believe that he would, for the sake of the people in Camp Jaha, to protect them from certain slaughter. Bellamy would. Raven would. Clarke would. But he wasn't any of them. He had no real courage.
You don't need courage if you have charm, Finn had found. Smile genuinely at people, make them laugh, make them feel good about themselves, and they'll want you around. They'll protect you. It had worked very well for him on the Ark.
He pressed his hands together. They were shaking. He wasn't sure why he hadn't taken his finger off the trigger. He had meant to. It had just been…easier, like a ball rolling down a hill. His fingers had fallen into a rhythm and he'd repeated it without thinking, because it felt so natural. Over and over and over.
"Does anyone know their names?" he asked.
The guard hadn't been expecting him to speak; she'd been staring at the door to the council room as if she hoped to see through it. "Sorry, what?"
"Names," he repeated. And then to himself, "I should know their names."
"We don't just give up our children." Abby said to the assembled council. "That's not who we are."
"He's not a child." Kane looked tired. "He's eighteen. On the Ark we floated people who were eighteen. Besides, sooner or later, we all pay for the things we've done." Abby didn't have to ask what he meant by that. No matter what anyone told him about the Culling, it was always going to haunt him.
"But to sacrifice one of our own to the Grounders? Can we do that?" Abby looked at the others. "Could you live with that?"
"He's not some innocent lamb," Major Byrne replied. "If one of their people had killed eighteen of ours, we'd consider this justice. At least they're not asking for eighteen innocent people from us."
Kane stared at Abby. He looked sick and worn from his captivity in the grounder camp, but Lexa had allowed him to return, "as a gesture of goodwill." To ensure that they turned over Finn, more likely. "We don't have to like it, Abby. But we have to do it."
Finn stood by the tree line at the edge of camp, encircled by grounders. His hands were bound with a coarse hemp rope. They were waiting for Lexa.
Clarke had offered herself to Lexa, but Lexa had refused. "There would be no justice in that," she said. Finn wondered if he would have let Clarke do that – give himself up for him. He wasn't sure he would have told her no. What did it matter now? He'd be dead in five minutes.
They had met at the tree line because it was neutral ground, not too far into the territory of either party. Lexa had allowed that two of his people could be present, if they desired. Neither Clarke nor Raven had been permitted, since they would have tried once more to interfere. Abby had come, as Chancellor, and Kane had offered when Bellamy spoke up. "Let me go. One of his friends should be there."
Abby hadn't spoken to him as they'd led him away. That was fine. He didn't have anything to say. He seemed to be watching from a distance, as though what was happening – Now I am a murderer. Now I am walking to my execution – was too explosive to be accepted as real. These events were like a land mine. His mind wouldn't let him get too close.
Bellamy hadn't met his eyes. But as they waited for the Grounder leaders to arrive (Lexa sent her people ahead of her, and would herself come last) Bellamy had suddenly turned and him, grabbing him in a tight embrace. Finn could hear his tears.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry this is happening. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."
"This isn't your fault," Finn said, even though he would knew it would do no good. Bellamy was the kind of person who felt responsible for everything. He felt that, as the oldest, the hundred were his responsibility, and anything that happened to any of them was his fault. No one would ever be able to convince him otherwise. "Just – look after Clarke for me. And Raven."
Bellamy nodded. A sharp sound rose from his throat and he let Finn go and turned away.
Hoofbeats rang in his ears. The Grounders were stirring and parting as Lexa walked into the center of the circle. She was so young, so small, and so slight. Finn was stunned by the force with which she pushed him to his knees.
"Please," he heard himself say. He had promised to himself that he would not beg. He would meet his death with dignity, like Bellamy or Raven or Clarke would. He could do that much.
But the words slipped off of tongue anyway, like the bullets. He couldn't make himself stop. "Please. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, don't kill me." He was sobbing the words now. Tears and snot poured down his face and mixed until he could hardly see. He wondered what Bellamy thought of him, what he would tell Raven and Clarke. If Bellamy was actually watching.
"Your apologies mean nothing." Lexa's voice was hard and cold. "Blood must have blood."
Something metal flashed in the corner of his eye. She shudder uncontrollably and wondered, Will it hurt? She can't possible by strong enough to kill me with one stroke.
He heard a faint hiss as the sword carved its path through the air.
Bellamy saw the horrible scene in his head over and over as they walked back to camp: Finn sobbing and begging; the grounders calling for justice; the absurd, almost farcical way his head had fallen from his shoulders. Twice, Bellamy had to stop walking to throw up.
It wasn't that Finn's death was wrong. He understood it in a horrible way. It's that the whole thing was wrong. That Finn - gentle, sunny, peace-loving Finn – could have become someone so different and done something so terrible. All of it was fucked.
He entered the tent where Clarke and Raven sat, talking in a corner. Unbelievable. He'd cried like a little kid when Lexa cut Finn's head off. But Clarke had no tears, and Raven only one, drying on her face.
"Clarke." His voice sounded hoarse. "We have a strategy meeting with the Grounders in the morning to plan the attack on Mt. Weather. I thought you should know."
The girls looked up at him. "Good," Clarke said. "Good. Raven, can you have something from off the radio broadcasts to show them by then?"
Raven stood. "I can get written up every word we've heard since we started listening. Wick and I will start now." Without a look at Bellamy, she left for the communications tent.
Clarke stood, too. "I need to talk to my mom," she said. "And the rest of the council. Are they meeting now?"
He put a hand on her arm. "Clarke, you don't have to – I mean, Finn – "
She snatched her arm away. "We couldn't save Finn! We couldn't save him from himself or from the grounders. But there are forty-seven of us still in Mt. Weather and I'm going to save them. Are you going to help me?"
He reached out again, more slowly, for her arm. This time she let him, and he twined his fingers within hers. "Of course, Princess. You know I am."