So I believe Jaha saw his dead "friend" only because the chip has him "downloaded" to the City of Light. But in these shots, I'm having the chip able to interface with its inhabitants memories. Oh, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't do a dance after that last episode. Bellarke is coming. Our ship is on the horizon.

I didn't understand what was happening. It was too incredible. Too impossible. Something deep inside me, burrowed in my heart-or maybe it was my soul- told me it was wrong. Finn was dead. I'd felt the life leave him. I'd been the one to take it, and I knew that. But seeing him in front of me, alive and smiling, I suddenly didn't know what to believe anymore.

"The City of Light," I repeated, tasting it for myself. Maybe it was in my imagination, but I thought my mouth filled with the sweet tang of honey. Finn helped stabilize me and pulled away, but he still kept close by.

"W-What is that is that?" I asked in a breathy voice. "Where is it?"

Finn glanced around, that grin never leaving his face. "It's here."

I followed his gaze, to the wild terrain surrounding us. "Here?" I asked. "There's nothing here." Nothing beyond the trees and the grass and the distant outline of Polis striking upwards. Nothing except insanity.

Finn's grin widened and he opened his arms at his sides like the metal bird I remembered, dangling from a chain. "What? You don't care for the view? I thought you'd like it here."

"I do," I countered hurriedly, not wanting to offend him. Each minute he was feeling less and less like a memory and more real. I wanted to cry. Maybe I already was. I was screaming in my head. "I just . . . I don't understand this." I tried to keep myself calm. "Any of it. How you're here. How I'm here."

Finn didn't partake in my vexation. He simply stood a foot or so from me, looking appreciative with that gleam of mischief in his eyes. "What do you remember?"

I tried to channel everything I was feeling into my concentration, trying to grab on to those fleeting, fragmented images that broke into smaller pieces the moment I touched them. It was like trying to hold on to water.

"I think . . ." I looked down at my wrists. They were bare, but there was a ghostly weight around them, biting into the skin. "I think my hands were bound."

Finn tucked a flyaway hair of mine behind my ear. It was difficult to think when I was still struggling to wrap my mind around the fact that he was here.

"Why?" he asked in a quiet voice.

I snatched at the pictures flashing through my mind. "There was a chair, I think. And people and they . . . made me take something." I pinched the bridge of my nose, a flare of frustration running through me, but it was muted, gone in the next instant. "I don't know." I shook my head. "I really don't know. I can't feel anything anymore." I could feel the breeze and the warmth of the sun melting through my shirt. But the pain, if there had been any to begin with, was gone. And I felt like a person who'd been through a lot of it.

I wanted to get angry at the poor quality of my memory, but the emotion wouldn't come. Had it ever been there to begin with?

"Is it that important to you?" Finn asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly. A loose strand of hair tickled his jaw.

I stared at him, perplexed by the question. "What?"

"Does it really matter how you're here? You're here. That's what's important."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Of course it matters. Finn, you were gone and now you're here with me, and that doesn't make sense. I . . . " My heart clenched, but not with its usual ache. The ache was gone, belying my next words. "I killed you, don't you remember? I took a knife and-"

I was cut off by his hand grabbing mine. He raised it to him and held it against his chest. "I look pretty good for a dead guy, don't you think?"

I drew in a breath, but said nothing. I felt the soft linen of his grey shirt. Heard the steady pound of his heart, like it was inching up to meet me.

"This doesn't make any sense," I repeated. He died, my head tried to convince me. I felt the phantom pain buried so far inside me. How I'd gotten here was a mystery, but I remembered Finn dying. I remembered the wetness on my hands as I pulled out the blade. Remembered clawing at my skin until my blood mixed with his.

But I could feel him now. I was hearing his voice, as real as the sun and the sky and the dirt sifting under my heels. Could it be that those memories I had were just some part of a terrible nightmare?

I looked up, meeting his amber eyes. "I killed you," I whispered again. "Didn't I?"

Finn's fingers tightened over mine. "You saved me, Clarke."

I saved him. I flipped the words over in my mind, again and again. I saved him. Did I? Those images didn't feel like saving. They felt like ending.

I took my hand back and used it to massage my temples, easing a headache that wasn't there. How could I be afraid without feeling fear? There was a peace in my body and mind, coaxing me to relax. To accept this strange, impossible world. And I wanted to listen. I didn't like the questions I kept feeling compelled to ask Finn when I could've just been grateful that he was here at all.

But there was a nagging, tapping at me from the base of my skull. A feeling of wrongness when I looked at Finn.

As if reading my mind, Finn grabbed my hand again. He held it tightly. "Want to go someplace else?" he asked, blinking up at the sky.

I looked ahead of us, towards the stretch of valley. "Where's there to go?"

"Pessimistic, as usual," he said, cracking another smile. "Glad some things never change."

"I don't see any horses." Or any other means of transportation for that matter.

Finn scoffed. He tugged the lips of his beanie down lower with one hand. "You don't need horses," he said. "You just need this." He tapped a finger against my forehead. "Now I'm going to show you a little trick." A wink. "It's kind of awesome."

That wrongness doubled, but it was squandered almost instantly. A pressure built at the back of my skull, like the nagging was being smothered. "What sort of trick?" I asked dubiously.

Finn wiggled his fingers in front of me. "Close your eyes."

Uneasily, I obliged.

"Now, picture a place you'd like to be. Doesn't matter where. You can think of the Ark if you'd like, but that's hardly very creative and I don't mean to be presumptuous, but I doubt it would be your first choice."

He was right. I didn't want to swap the sunlight for the stars. I'd gone long enough without it. Instead, I painted an old image behind my lids, recalling even the smallest of details. The broken scraps of metal and wood. The voices. The strong scent of pine edged with a metallic smell that clung to the air.

"And," Finn's voice was just by my ear, breath moving my hair just so. "Open your eyes."

I did, and I was standing exactly where I wanted to, at camp. Not Camp Jaha, or the camp Arkadia it had become. But the One Hundred's camp, constructed around the dropship that first took us to the ground. It was all the same, save for the thrum of life that had been cut. It was quiet and that silence now made it feel foreign. Other than myself and Finn, it was empty, like a body without a heart.

"Huh," Finn marveled, as he took in the camp. "Not bad. Not the most pleasant of places, but you definitely could've chosen worse."

I started for it in slow, small steps. It was surreal. I could hear the ghost of footfalls running by me. The points of tents spearing the sky. I could smell the bonfire that was now reduced to a pit of ash and rock. If I stopped and listened hard enough, I could just make out the laughter that once lingered around the stone circle.

For a long while, this had been home. No other place had made me feel quite like this one had. No other place had given me a sense of hope, had fueled the belief that we could rebuild the world. Yet all we'd managed to do since then was tear it further down.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, though I knew what a ludicrous question that was. They were either elsewhere or dead. Buried at Arkadia or buried here.

Finn let out a long sigh, looking towards the dropship door. The broken curtain of plastic swayed in the wind. "Who do you want to see?"

Everyone, I wanted to answer. I wanted to see everyone. I wanted this camp and its people back. I wanted to believe we could build things again, instead of make what little was left crumble even more.

A face flashed through my mind.

Finn nodded at something over my shoulder and I followed his eyes. Not something. Someone. For the second time today, I lost the ability to breathe. I felt a smile on my lips, but the nagging in my head wouldn't let me unleash the full force of it.

Wells smiled at me, wetting his lips as if bashful. Nervous.

I hesitated for only a moment this time. And then I tugged him towards me, as real as Finn, and hugged him. The wrongness pounded, but I dismissed it. Whether this was a dream or not, I was beginning to lose interest in caring. I gave myself a second to appreciate this, whatever it was and as impossible as it seemed. The people I had thought were gone forever were here. They were here, with me.

For this moment in time, I agreed with Finn: The rest didn't matter.