Hey all! The episode, especially with Clarke's rather uncharacteristic decisions and then rather unsatisfactory ending, left me feeling a bit, well, unsatisfied. Like something was missing after something that big for her. And then I realized that after all of the internal struggling she had processed, she had just gone to bed? It didn't seem like something you could go to sleep after, and I thought there needed to be a little more. This was my attempt to satisfy that.
As always, reviews are very much appreciated :)
The dropship—burning, flames, screams. Charred bodies. Her people, dead because of her decision. Her people, alive because of her decision. A button pushed, and everything burned.
Clarke stumbled around a corner, no destination in mind, unable to go to bed. She felt too much horror to close her eyes.
ton DC—explosions, burning, falling buildings, screams. Her own mother, Bellamy's sister, crushed beneath the rubble. Skaikru and Grounders alike, crushed and dead. For the Mountian Men, a distraction, her desperate attempt to protect Bellamy and their only hope at saving their friends. No, not really. To show Lexa again that she was not weakened by love. A simple nod given, and everything fell.
Mount Weather—fresh air, boils, blood, melting human flesh, screams. An airway opened, poisoned fresh air let in, her people freed. For her mother, Harper, and all the rest. Men, women, and children—dead. Maya. Jasper. Jasper, who was Jasper no more. A lever pulled, and lives melted.
ALIE—falling, deaths, groans, shrieks, screams. A false world destroyed. For humanity, she was sure. Pain returned, horrors brought back. A red button, pushed in her mind, nothing really there.
Clarke bumped the steel wall with her shoulder but didn't react. The pain and confusion in her mind blocked out her surroundings.
The bunker—one order, a drugged leader, and stunned silence. Then angry shouts, stifled cries, a body, his body, twitching on the floor. For the human race, she had said. For the human race, Jaha had agreed.
For yourself, he had seemed to counter.
But he hadn't, not really. He'd explained the difference. Then: you knew what would follow. Now: you know nothing for sure of the future.
Clarke clenched a fist. People would die. They didn't have enough room. They couldn't treat radiation. She knew. But not really.
"Clarke, what are you doing?"
She could still hear his voice, startled and confused by the shot she'd fired. Her emotions had mirrored his. What was she doing?
Saving the human race. Ensuring there would be people on the ground after the radiation lifted. That was what she was doing.
But not really. She saw that now. And she couldn't sleep knowing what she had almost done.
The next corner revealed a light coming from a door part way down the hall. Someone was in medical. Clarke slowed a little but kept walking. Maybe it was her mother. She needed to talk to her. There was no question in Clarke's mind that her mother had helped him. The question was of a different nature: could she still love her daughter?
Clarke stood in the lighted doorway. The figure was too tall and broad-shouldered to be her mother. Guardsman's boots, pants, and a thin dirty t-shirt, the dark blue jacket lying haphazardly on the floor. A roll of gauze dropped to the floor and bumped along the floor. The figure cursed. Clarke bent to retrieve the gauze at her feet. Her eyes flickered from Bellamy's tired face to his bloody outstretched hands. Her grip on the gauze tightened when she saw his hands were shaking.
"Clarke," he complained.
"You can't just wrap that," she interrupted. Pointing to the stool by the sink, she ordered, "Sit."
Bellamy rolled his eyes but did as he was told, even holding his bloody wrists over the sink.
Clarke turned the water on. "This might hurt," she warned.
He raised one eyebrow.
So Clarke scrubbed at the blood, and Bellamy only hissed once, when she added an antiseptic to the mix. She shook her hands dry, shut off the water, and turned.
"Clarke, what are you doing?"
"Looking for an antibacterial cream that'll promote healing and keep the skin moist…" she muttered as she rifled through the cabinets, her back turned to him.
"Clarke, it's fine."
"No, it's not," she argued, unable to explain. "Those are nasty and—what happened?"
"I tried to escape."
"That was stupid."
"I knew if I hurt myself enough your mom would come, and I knew I could convince her to help."
Clarke had the tube of cream in her hand, but she couldn't turn around. She stared at the cabinet in front of her, unable to speak.
"I'm fine. You don't need to doctor me, Princess. I can take care of myself."
Princess. He called her princess, after what she'd done?
"Listen, I—"
"No." She spun around, tube clenched tightly in her hand. "No, you can't take care of yourself. That's my job and you need to let me do one thing right today."
"Your job is to make the right tough decisions. My job is to keep you alive."
"What happened today?" Clarke asked, her eyes filling with tears. Tears? Clarke Griffin doesn't cry. She blinked them away.
"You made the wrong decision, and I stopped you."
"What if you hadn't? What if I had killed you?"
"You wouldn't," Bellamy said simply. "You knew the right thing to do."
Clarke shook her head. "I closed the doors and burned our people," she began.
"You had to."
She ignored him. "I let a bomb fall on an innocent village, almost killing your sister and my mom."
"Clarke…"
"One lever melted skin off living humans. Even the children, Bell. Even them."
"I pulled that lever with you."
"And when I pushed the kill switch? So many people died. I made a decision for them that they had already rejected."
"Because it was the right decision," Bellamy tried again. "Because it was the truth, and living in a world where you believe a lie isn't living."
"And then I didn't trust your sister. I believed Jaha, I had you kidnapped, and I almost killed everyone out there." She finally met his gaze. "What happened? How did I do that? I was the one who said Grounders were people too. I'm supposed to be the doctor, trying to save everyone. What happened, Bellamy?"
"I failed."
"What?"
"Remember when we decided we were better as a team? That me keeping you alive was a lot easier if we stayed together?"
She nodded dumbly.
"I wasn't there. You were alone."
"There is no way any of this is your fault. I made the decision, and it was a bad one."
"Like hell it was," he suddenly snarled. "But I didn't stop you." He sighed. "I don't know the answer to any of this," Bellamy confessed. "I just…something about all of it was wrong. Like Jaha said, we keep each other in check. When one of us goes away, the other does stupid things. Pike, this…."
"I'm sorry," Clarke whispered. "I'm sorry for locking you up, and leaving Octavia, and everything."
"You thought it was what you had to do."
"I was wrong."
"Yes, you were."
In the silence that followed those words, Clarke allowed them to soak in. She'd been wrong. She had made a desperate decision, had listened to the wrong people, and nearly killed someone very important to her.
And somehow he was sitting right in front of her, calm and waiting. He was mad she'd left his sister behind, that she'd decided to play god, that she had locked him up. But he was still sitting there.
"What you did was stupid, and I don't agree with you at all," Bellamy spoke up. "You did what you thought you had to do, and it was wrong. And I think something happened at the lab after I left that made you go this far."
She nodded.
"I'm mad about what you did, Clarke. But I'm not mad at you."
Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but there were no words.
"Now come over here and do your job. Heal me like you're supposed to, Dr. Griffin, don't aim at a gun at me. We're both exhausted and need some rest."
"But—"
"And we'll figure everything else out in the morning. Together."