Chapter II – A Reversal of Fortune
Lexa groaned as she drifted back to consciousness. She had been having a very pleasant dream involving a lullaby, a beautiful green forest, and rather pretty blonde who for some reason reminded her of Costia. Bizarrely enough a group of Reapers had also been sleeping in the glade along with her and the blonde and the blonde had been busily sewing. Lexa shot upright as she realized that it hadn't been a dream. There had been a battle, there had been Reapers, and there had been a blonde who had sewn up her wounds.
She immediately regretted her precipitous actions as the world canted and dipped to one side and her back came alive with pain. Easing herself back onto her bed Lexa tried to will her world to stop spinning. As things gradually came into focus she began to make out details of her current abode. An oil lamp cast the whole room in a warm orange as she made out the pre-war furnishings all around her. A medicine cabinet and the scent of antiseptics and herbs seemed to suggest that she was in an infirmary. A warm, woolen homespun blanket was draped over her bearing the designs of the Sandkru.
Lexa took a few deep breathes as she eased herself up into a sitting position – easier said than done with a nasty sutured gashed in her back. Still it wasn't the first time she had fought through an injury. As the blanket fell off her she noticed that her captor had deprived her of her clothes and armour, leaving behind only a set of light linen pyjamas. Getting out of the bed slowly she padded over to the door and tried the handle – locked of course.
It was a widely held misconception amongst those with more technology than the Trikru that they were backwards savages – a misconception that the Trikru themselves did their best to perpetuate. Lexa was perfectly versed in how to pick a lock if a bit out of practice. Casting around the room she swiftly rifled through the cabinets and eventually came up with a fine scalpel and a pin. The lock itself wasn't particularly complicated and after a few abortive attempts it came unlocked. Lexa held onto the pin and scalpel as she gently eased the door open.
The infirmary gave onto a narrow tunnel which had all the hallmarks of an Old World bomb shelter. Lexa had raided several in her younger days, before she had begun her arduous training to become the Heda. Turning left she paused for a moment and cocked her head to the side. There was the unmistakable sound of music floating through the air. The piece itself was mellow and sorrowful and the faint overtones of a singer drifted through the air. Lexa had not heard artificial music in years and then only once when her teacher had shown her an antique Old World device that used a crank and a black disk to produce a few distorted notes of artificial music. It had been nowhere near as complex or crisp as what she was now listening to.
As Lexa padded down the passageway she gripped the scalpel tighter. The music meant that she was the captive of one of only two groups the hated Maunon or the equally dangerous Skaikru. True there had been rumors of the technological prowess of the Tseekru from the South and the fools' tales of the City of Light but the Tseekru had never ventured this far from their ships or their protected bastions and the City of Light was just a myth told by the drifters that occasionally washed up inside Trikru territory.
The passageway gave onto an open space which seemed to serve as a living area. To one side was a small cooking area with a wood stove burning peacefully, its fumes being evacuated up through a chimney in the ceiling. On the other side of the room was a small living area which had been converted into what seemed to be a small altar. At the centre stood a bonsai tree and above it hung a set of charcoal drawings of people that she had never seen before. It looked to Lexa like some sort of altar set up to venerate the dead, and set up in a hurry judging from some of the haphazard arranging of objects around the bonsai tree. Before the altar stood a single high backed arm chair and unfurled from the chair was single limp bare arm. A soft sob was clearly audible over the mournful music.
Lexa shifted unconsciously as she realized that she had intruded into a deeply personal moment. She pushed down her feelings quickly as she realized that no matter how human the person sitting in the chair was they were still her captor. To compound matters the music offered Lexa the perfect opportunity to strike undetected and quickly gain the upper hand also negating the disadvantages her injuries would inflict in a prolonged fight. So the cold calculus of her options made her decision for her. Lexa glided, wraithlike, towards the oblivious figure swallowed up in the chair hoping to incapacitate if possible and kill if necessary.
The music suddenly came to an end and Lexa came to an abrupt halt. Another, distinctly feminine, sniffle came from the chair in front of her as her captor showed no signs of moving. Softly advancing on the chair Lexa did her best to remain silent. Whether out of some sixth sense that she was being watched or from sheer luck the woman in the arm chair poked her head around the side of the chair to look behind her. Lexa was rooted to the spot as the other woman's puffy, tear streaked, blue eyes widened as she saw what had been lurking behind her. The colour drained from the other woman's face as she stared at Lexa and then at the scalpel in Lexa's hand. Her terrified blue eyes darted towards a table to the side of the room, Lexa followed her gaze as it landed on a blunt and very menacing looking revolver that sat innocently on a side table. The blue eyes darted back to Lexa and Lexa could see the other woman tensing to make a run for the weapon.
Years of experience had allowed Lexa to predict where and how the other woman was going to move and she was launching herself towards her just as she leapt from her chair and made a vain dash for her sidearm. Lexa's impact sent both of them tumbling in a tangle of limbs but Lexa's superior reflexes allowed her to quickly gain the upper hand and in moments she had the other woman face-down in a chokehold. The woman's desperate clawing at Lexa's arm soon ceased as Lexa efficiently blocked off the woman's carotid arteries. Releasing her carefully Lexa took the opportunity to pick up the pistol and withdraw to a safe distance.
The other woman wheezed and coughed as she regained consciousness and she slowly levered herself into a sitting position and pulled her mess of blonde braids into some semblance of order. She stared at Lexa with an anger born of the realization that she was completely helpless.
"I'm betting you don't even know how to use that." The woman rasped as she gestured to the revolver.
Lexa smirked as she flipped the safety catch off and aimed the weapon away from her prisoner and fired. The report was deafening and the other woman jumped as the bullet thudded into the floor near her. All trace of cockiness had just been erased and while she still looked angry there was a good deal of fear accompanying that emotion.
"Now," Lexa began. "You are going to find some rope and tie yourself to one of those chairs."
The other woman shot Lexa a withering glare as she got up very slowly and backed away from Lexa. "I don't keep rope on hand in my living room."
Lexa was having none of it. "Use your clothes."
The other woman stared at Lexa and then sighed. She shrugged off the light linen housecoat she had been wearing and, with a regretful sigh, began tearing it into strips. Dropping the now ruined housecoat she plunked into her chair with a weary grunt and wound the material around her ankles. Making the binding fast she proceed to one hand and then, with a surprising amount of dexterity, bound her free hand around the arm of her chair and made it fast with a sharp jerk from her teeth. Staring back up at Lexa she glared at her warily. Lexa for her part let out a sigh of relief as she pushed a chair around to face her prisoner and settled into it. Her wound had begun to ache but it was a testament to the other woman's skills as a medic that it had not sprung open.
"I am going to ask you some questions." Lexa began. "You are going to answer me honestly. If you don't the consequences could be severe."
The other woman stared at her coldly as though trying to preserve what was left of her dignity.
"What is your name and clan?"
"Clarke, of the Tseekru." The other woman responded curtly. Her eyes drifted over to the bonsai tree for a moment before returning to stare at Lexa.
In that instant Lexa knew that she was already lying about something. The decades of past life experience that the commanders before her had imparted left her an adept judge of people's tells and she could tell that Clarke was lying about something.
"I don't believe you." Lexa snapped.
"I don't care what you believe, it's the truth." Clarke shot back.
"I warned you that there would be consequences if you attempted to lie to me!" Lexa retorted angrily.
"What are you going to do? Kill me?" Clarke laughed. Lexa knew from the weary way that the other woman had greeted that possibility that she had faced death before and it no longer held any power over her.
Lexa rose from her chair in an instant and hastened out of the room leaving a stunned looking Clarke behind her. Retracing her steps to the infirmary Lexa quickly rifled through the jars of powders and ointments until she found what she was looking for. The jar itself was neatly labeled with Black Henbane which unlike its pre-fallout parent had mutated several interesting properties. Returning to the living area Lexa found Clarke staring at her in confusion.
"I take it you know what this is?" Lexa asked harshly as she showed Clarke the jar.
Clarke eyed Lexa suspiciously as she nodded. It was clear from her look that she knew the mutated Black Henbane enjoyed use as both a deadly toxin with symptoms approximating madness to a highly potent truth agent. It induced a kind of waking sleep that made the recipient highly suggestable but could also easily lead to hallucination, paranoia and madness if the recipient's psyche was not sufficiently robust. The danger of the compound lay in getting the dose just right so as to avoid sending the recipient into irreversible madness. Given that Lexa knew little enough about herbs and medicine she had already calculated that she ran a better than average chance of getting the dose catastrophically wrong.
Turning her back to Clarke she strode over to the kitchen area and began to root around for a spoon, drinking vessel and water. Working slowly and patiently Lexa waited for Clarke to make the next move – cunningly playing on the other woman's fears.
"Do you even know what you're doing with that?" Clarke asked, a faint note of worry creeping into her voice.
"Not exactly, but in the past it has been used to satisfactory effect to extract information." Lexa replied casually as she stirred the powder into the water. "It was a pity that the subjects all died or went mad but the information they provided was worth it."
Lexa set down the spoon and returned with an earthenware mug full of the potent mixture. Clarke continued to regard her skeptically as though trying to gauge whether or not she would carry through on her threat.
"You only need to tell me the truth Clarke and I won't have to use this." Lexa stated simply. "To what clan do you belong?"
"I told you this already," Clarke replied in exasperation. "The Tseekru. I'm one of their scouts."
Clarke wasn't the only one who was irritated and Lexa let her anger show as she kicked Clarke's chair backwards. Clarke had only moments to brace herself as the chair toppled backwards taking her with it. In a moment Lexa was on her reaching for her nose to clamp it shut prior to forcing the black mixture down Clarke's throat. Clarke twisted out of Lexa's grasp desperately, her fear written clearly across her features.
"Stop!" Clarke pleaded as she desperately shied away from the potent mixture. "Please, tell me what you want to know. I'll answer."
Lexa paused momentarily to study the squirming woman below her. Her reactions were far from in keeping with the relatively defiant woman she had fought earlier that evening or the hardened scout that had saved her life. Something wasn't adding up.
"Why are you so terrified of this?" Lexa asked softly. "The threat of death didn't seem to worry you."
Clarke refused to meet her gaze as she answered softly. "I've had it before. I don't want to go back there."
Things began to click into place for Lexa as she realized that this woman harboured demons that she had no desire to confront. The altar that she had set up, the portraits, the unopened bottle of moonshine on her kitchen counter – it all amounted to someone on the run from the shades of their past, someone trying their best to forget about the people they hadn't saved. It was a feeling that Lexa was all too familiar with and in that moment she felt a pang of sympathy for her captive. Setting the mug of Henbane aside Lexa hauled Clarke's chair and its occupant back upright.
"Alright Clarke, you can start by telling me about the altar and the pictures."
Clarke was hesitant as she began, still refusing to look at Lexa after what had just happened. "They're pictures of my parents and my friends. I drew them to remember them."
"They are dead now?"
"Yes."
"What happened to them?"
Clarke licked her lips as she seemed to consider her next words and for a moment Lexa was almost worried that she would need to threaten her again with the Henbane but Clarke gathered herself and continued. "I know you're not going to believe me when I say this but they all died falling from the sky."
Contrary to Clarke's comment Lexa could believe it easily, she knew well of the life that lingered in the night sky above them. "Go on."
"I was sent down here three years ago with one hundred others – prisoners from our home." Clarke explained slowly. "We landed in the water near the lands of the Floudonkru. I managed to escape our ship but before the others could it exploded."
Clarke seemed to choke up at this point but she steeled herself as she continued. "My best friend, Wells, died that day. He died thinking that I hated him for the death of my father."
"How did your father die?"
"He was executed for reasons that are now trivial." Clarke snorted derisively. "He tried to save all of them and they paid him back for it by killing him but in the end they all died anyway."
"What happened to your people?" Lexa probed.
"They ran out of air or they burned up on re-entry" Clarke snapped, her anger bleeding into her voice as she seemed to fight to keep herself from crying. "Either way they're dead and I'm the last one left."
Clarke trailed off as she stared at the ground before her. "That's why I'm not afraid of dying but I am afraid of going back to that waking nightmare." Clarke finished softly.
Lexa sat back in her chair, while Clarke's story was tragic it was also wrong. The poor naïve Skai girl thought that she was the last of her kind while Lexa desperately wished for that to be true. The Skaikru were mostly very much alive and very much a thorn in Lexa's side. The Maunon she could deal with but the fall of the Skaikru to earth and the ensuing military debacles in trying to wipe them out had been costly. Now with questions surrounding the value of the coalition that she had worked so hard to forge and doubts swirling around the strength of her leadership she was left with the unpalatable option of another unending cold war with a force equivalent to the Mountain Men. Her only way out of her current predicament was to negotiate a settlement with the Skaikru and to focus their attention to the Maunon in hopes that they would mutually annihilate or be so weakened that they would never again threaten her people. Against all odds she had been given the perfect asset – a grief stricken Skai girl who, if the rumours of the diplomatic skill of the Tseekru scouts were to be believed, could help her build a bridge between her people and the Skaikru.
A/N - Lexa's a devious one alright. Black Henbane is a relative of deadly nightshade and is quite poisonous. It's used today in the formulation of scopolamine (amongst other things) which was used as a truth agent and can lead to some extremely unpleasant hallucinations. For the purposes of the story Henbane has since mutated to induce near permanent madness (if given improperly) and yes Clarke has had it before during her time on the ground. I'm interested to hear what people think of the two main characters. Are they believable given their different circumstances? Anything patently unbelievable?
