Chapter 4
Trust
After a few hours of lying in the dark listening to the even rhythm of her soft, measured breathing it becomes apparent that he's not going to sleep tonight. He accepts that. He gets up, taking care not to wake her, then dresses in a corner of the tent.
He glances down to check on her again but she's finally settled, still and peaceful. He ducks out of the tent and slips out of camp, setting up a nice even pace between the trees, trying to establish something of a familiar routine in this place.
It's still quiet. A curious time for the world to be in, somewhere between sleeping and waking. It's peaceful and calm. Something to settle him and put him at ease before the camp begins to wake and chaos unfolds around them.
It feels as though he's alone for a little while. Completely alone. With no pressures or responsibilities to anyone or anything but the ground unfurling beneath his feet. It's soothing. It's something familiar. Something routine. Something that he knows. That's purely for him. One little selfish indulgence that he allows himself. And he loves it.
He pauses for a rest at the lake they come down at. The sun is beginning to rise above the horizon, soft streaks of yellow dancing across the top of the water. He savours it for a moment then turns and heads back to camp. He ducks into the showers for a few minutes and curses himself for having taken longer than with his run than he had planned.
He hurries back to the tent and begins packing up for the day. He's glad to find that she's still asleep. Though only just. She was restless. Tossing and turning. Muttering in her sleep. She's shaking. And clearly distressed. He watches her anxiously but knows better than to wake her and panic her.
Instead he moves around the tent clearing up and packing both of their bags. A short, sharp scream makes him turn, dropping the med kit he had been re-stocking to the floor, spilling it, his hand reaching for the knife at his belt.
He crouches down beside her as soon as he realises that they're not under attack and she's sitting bolt upright, panting and trembling. He places a tentative hand on her shoulder and takes it as a good sign that she doesn't automatically throw him off.
"It's okay." He whispers softly feeling her shaking beneath his touch. He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze, "It's okay, Abby, you're safe, everything's going to be alright." He tells her gently, desperately trying to soothe her.
She turns to him, her eyes wide and haunted but she nods slowly, trusting him, reaching down and grasping his hand with both of hers, trying to ground herself.
He sits with her for a little while and tentatively starts rubbing her back after a few minutes. It seems to help. She relaxes a little and her breathing gradually begins to return to normal. He fetches her a glass of water and she accepts with shaking hands and takes several slow, shaky sips.
"I'm sorry." She whispers hoarsely.
"It's alright, Abby." He tells her quietly, giving her shoulder another soft squeeze.
"No. No it's not, Marcus, it's-" She chokes, shaking her head and pulling away from him. "it's not alright."
She can feel herself shaking again. The nightmare continuing to plague her despite the fact that she's woken up. Her daughter's eyes wide and gone and empty but for the unspoken accusation still haunts her. The way Jake's had for months following his death.
Marcus is quiet for a long moment before he asks gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I don't know." She whispers shakily.
Her hands twist anxiously together in her lap. She shakes her head. Trembling.
"I can't. I can't. Marcus, it's too much." She manages to tell him. Knowing that she's not telling him a damn thing. But he's patient. And quiet. And gives her time. She tries to pull herself together. She wants to tell him. She needs to tell him. She needs to tell someone. It's tearing her apart otherwise.
She takes several deep breaths. Closes her eyes. Begins to count. Follows her routine for calming herself before a surgery.
Her eyes open and lock with his a few moments later. His hand moves to gently rub her back again and her voice vibrates through him as she slowly begins to speak, cautiously flat and still. "I've lost patients before. On the table, mostly. They can't take the surgery. It's too much. Their bodies give out. There's nothing I can do. But I tried. I tried to save them. I fought. I did everything I could. Everything." She paused. Shaking. "And that. That was the only reason that I could sleep at night."
He shifts a little closer to her as her voice breaks, trying to support her. She struggles, her voice strained and thick with emotion as she says, "I killed them. I swore an oath to do no harm. And I killed them."
"Abby." He begins, shocked.
She ignores him.
"I didn't do anything." She says, her body trembling, tears in her eyes that she brushes angrily away, "I didn't help them. I didn't even try. I just...I just killed them."
"Abby." He breathes, "Abby there was nothing you could do." He says hopelessly.
She shakes her head, "Every...Every time I close my eyes I see them." She chokes and her words strike a chord with him because he suddenly understands how she feels. Guilt. Overwhelming guilt floods through them both. He slides an arm around her waist without thinking and pulls her closer to him.
She tentatively rests her head on his shoulder, still trembling.
"I know." He finds himself telling her, his voice shaking slightly.
She turns to look up at him, her eyes searching his. "The cull?" She breathes softly.
He nods.
She pauses.
They'd talked a little about this the other day on the way to camp but had been unwilling to continue with an audience. Now though...She didn't want another fight with him. But she didn't want another fight with him. But she did want to get him to open up about this to her; to anyone.
"I killed them." He murmurs tautly to her.
She shifts a little closer to him, "Marcus you couldn't have known." She tried softly.
"I knew exactly what I was doing, Abby." He says quietly. "You were doing what you thought was the right thing." She tells him.
She pauses, swallowing hard as she goes on. "You did the only thing you thought you could do to save everyone." She trembles before she says, "The same way I knew exactly what I was doing when I told Thelonious about Jake."
Tears fill her eyes and she ignores them as she whispers, "Because I thought that it was the only thing I could do to save him."
Silent tears stream down her cheeks.
"Thelonious."
She's thought it over. She's thought of every alternative. She's desperate. She hasn't got a choice. If she doesn't do something; if she doesn't do this, he's going to die.
He glances up from his papers.
"Can I come in?" She asks tautly, already practically standing in his living room.
He watches her for a moment then nods, looking curious, placing the pen he'd been scribbling with on the table in front of him and turning to face her.
"I need to talk to you." She says taut, pacing, her arms crossing defensively over her chest.
"What's wrong?" He asks in a measured voice.
She turns to him, her eyebrows raised questioningly.
"You only pace when you're agitated, Abby." He tells her matter-of-factly, "What's wrong?"
"Jake." She tells him, her voice cracking despite her best efforts to remain composed. But there's too much at stake.
"Why?" Jaha demands, "What's happened?" He asks, pushing himself to his feet, concerned.
She shakes her head, still not sure, her nails biting into her palm.
"I need you to talk to him." She says finally. "He won't-" She breaks off, anger flaring through her, "He won't listen to me."
"About what, Abby?" He asks.
She bites her lip, still pacing. Then flips round to face him, meeting his eyes defiantly as she says, "We're friends, Thelonious? I can trust you?" She pushes, desperate.
"Abby what's going on?" He demands, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She's come too far now. She just has to hope. With every fibre of her being. "The fault with the Ark's oxygen." She breathes.
"I know, Jake told the council." He says, looking perplexed.
"He wants to tell everyone, Thelonious." She whispers, "I tried to talk him out of it. I told him that it'd cause a panic. That the council won't allow it, that they can't." She says urgently, "He won't listen. He says he's doing it for Clarke." She mutters, closing her eyes in despair, dragging her fingers through her hair, "You need to talk to him." She says beseechingly, "You've known him for a long time, he'll listen to you."
"You're his wife, Abby." He reminds her looking troubled and her stomach twists painfully, "If he won't listen to you-"
She shakes her head. Panic taking over as she insists, "He thinks he's doing this for me. And for Clarke. I can't get through to him. That's why I'm here Thelonious, that's why I'm telling you this. You know what they'll do to him if he goes through with this." She says, shaking her head, "I can't- You have to help me." She breathes.
He's quiet for a long time before, "I'm sorry, Abby." He says softly, closing his eyes then moving to the door.
He summons one of the Guard and murmurs to them, too softly for her to hear. But she catches the word 'treason' and her heart stops.
"Thelonious." She whispers hoarsely, staggering towards him, her voice rising in terror, "Thelonious what did you do?" She demands, "What the Hell did you do?"
"What I had to." He tells her softly.
"No." She breathes, launching herself at her, her fists pounding against every part of him she can reach, "No. No!" She screams at him, her throat burning as she howls in fury and fear.
He puts his arms around her, restraining her and trying to comfort her, "Abby, I don't have a choice-" He tells her, his words loud and harsh in her ears.
She wrenches free of him, spitting, "Yes, yes you do. You always have a choice." He places his hands on her shoulders again , opening his mouth again and she shoves him away, "Get your hands off of me you son-of-a-bitch." She snarls, throwing him off as he tries again.
Furious, terrified tears begin streaming down her cheeks as she begs, "Call them off." Her voice breaks, "Call them off. You've made your point." She chokes, "I'll stop him. I'll stop him. I won't let him do it. I won't. I swear it. I swear it, please. Please. Please don't do this. Please. Please."
"It's already done, Abby."
Tears are coursing from her eyes and she makes no move to stop them. He doesn't know what to say or how to go about comforting her. But without warning she pushes herself to her feet and says flatly, "We should get going."
He scrambles to his feet, alarmed at how suddenly she's shut down on him, and places a hand on her arm, "Abby you're in no state to go anywhere."
She glares at him, fury flaring in her eyes as she snarls, "I'm going."
"Abby-" he begins reasonably, regretting his impulsive word choice. After so long spent arguing with her opposite a council table it should have been clear to him by now that the only sure fire way to make Abby Griffin do anything was to tell her not to.
She interrupts, "I'm going to find my daughter, Kane." She tells him coldly, her voice softening slightly as she adds, "I have to." She pauses letting that sink in for a moment before she demands flatly, "Are you coming or not?"
She turns away from him and he internally curses her. He should let her go and be damned. She'll get lost or injured or who knows what out there and it'll serve her right for being so stubborn and not listening to him.
But even as he thinks this he's already instinctively moved to stand in front of her and look down at her even as she glares up at him.
"I'm coming, Abby." He says softly yet firmly, "We are going. And we are going together." He says steadily, "Alright?"
She's tensed. Defiant. Glaring at him. Finally though, when he's given up the hope of getting anything from her, her shoulders slump and she nods tersely in agreement, "Alright."
She dips down and begins to gather together the fallen med kit to avoid looking at him. He leaves her to it then goes back for her once he's gathered together the rest of their party. She's still and silent and doesn't look at him as she brushes past him saying, "Let's go."
She takes several deep breaths as she ducks from the confines of their tent. Marcus steps out behind her and she immediately begins to walk towards the gate. He follows with a poorly concealed sigh that she chooses to ignore. She's quiet. She doesn't know if she's said too much or not enough but either way she's done talking. All she wants right now is Clarke.
Marcus seems to sense her mood. He doesn't try and continue their conversation from before and he doesn't try and force small talk. But he stays close to her. She lets him. But she still won't look at him. She can't. She lost control. And she has no idea how to get it back.
They break after about an hour and he grimly refuses to stop or eat anything until she grudgingly does. Afterwards, he sits down beside her and waits. After a while he says softly, "It wasn't your fault."
"What?" She whispers, playing for time.
"Jake." He says. She closes her eyes, not looking at him as he says, "It wasn't your fault, Abby."
She turns to look at him, then, torn. She wants to believe him. Cruel words spring to the front of her mind. Blaming him instead. Blaming Jaha. Blaming anyone else. But she's exhausted with that. She's tired of fighting that day in, day out. And the truth slips from her in a sharp, broken whisper, "If I hadn't-"
"Then he would have been floated anyway." He interrupts softly.
She stares at him, shocked, finally she says evenly, "You need to work on your definition of making people feel better, Marcus."
She stands as the group around them begins to shift and move on. He stands up as well and then says, "He would have released the video and been arrested and executed for treason." He explains as they set off again. "You tried to save him by going to Jaha." He presses firmly. "It wasn't your fault." He breathes.
"It was." She tells him, shaking her head. "My daughter can't look me in the eye anymore because she knows that I'm the reason her father is dead." She says, her voice shaking, "I should have tried harder. I should have stopped him. I should have made him listen to me. I should have-"
"Abby." He breaks in, smoothly moving to stand in front of her, gripping her shoulders and stopping her. She stares at his chest for the longest time, avoiding his eyes and it's only when she meets them again that he repeats softly and firmly, "It wasn't your fault."
"It was." She whispers, her stomach twisting.
"Abby-"
"Because I still feel so guilty." She tells him drawing back and turning away from him, walking on.
He's quiet for a while after he catches up with her then he tells her gently, "Because you're human, Abby." She ducks to avoid some low branches before she looked back at him, her eyes wide and uncertain. "You feel guilty because you need someone to blame. You need someone to blame because you're human. You're angry. You need someone to take everything out on." He paused a moment while she struggled with this, trying to process it, trying to dare herself into believing that he could be right, "So does Clarke." He adds quietly. She meets his eyes again as he continues, "She's angry, Abby. And she's upset. She needs someone to take that out on. You're her mother, she doesn't hate you."
"She has every reason to." She whispers hollowly, "For Jake...And I sent her, I sent her down here, Marcus." She chokes, gesturing around them, "Marcus, my own, my own daughter, I, I sent her down here to die."
"To live." He growls firmly, rounding on her, "You sent her down here to live, Abby. You had hope. You had faith in her. In Earth. And you sent her down here to live. And she did. They all did. And so will we." She looks up at him and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile as he orders flatly, "Now pull yourself together."
The tension in her snaps and she releases the breath she hadn't realised she was trapping in her lungs and a smile spread across her face without her permission. He nodded to her glad that she was calming down a little. He let them walk in silence for a little while before she murmured softly,
"What do you think the chances are that it's them? That it's their camp?"
"Good." He answers simply, expanding when she sighs faintly in frustration, "We're close." He says, "And from the maps we've seen. Where we landed; where they landed the approximate distance. The chances that it's not them are slim."
She nods, taking several deep breaths and looking determinedly ahead of them. Her voice sounds strained as she forces herself to say, "The smoke that we saw from the lake...That wasn't from a camp fire, was it?"
He hesitates, not wanting to upset her and put her on edge any more than she already is. But he won't lie to her.
"No." He said finally. "Most likely not."
She nodded defiantly, soaking this up with as much dignity as she could manage.
"They'll be okay, Abby. They're survivors. They've proven that by now."
She nods again, unable to think of anything to say, not trusting her voice to remain steady either, unable to make eye contact with him.
She had suspected it. Almost from the first moment she had seen the smoke she had suspected that it might not be the answer to her prayers and hopes but the end of everything. But it was recent if nothing else. And that was enough. Enough to give her something to cling to; however faint. Something to keep her fighting.
She's pulled a little ahead of them now and feels Marcus catch up with her, something clearly on his mind. She turns to look at him, inviting him to explain himself.
"We should go a little more slowly now." He says hesitantly, as though expecting her to argue. She doesn't answer, deciding to let him expand a little further before passing judgement, sure that he has a good reason for this caution when she's so close. "The kids have struggled with attacks by the Grounders down here, we know that. At the very least they'll have look-outs posted." He says, "And then there are the Grounders themselves."
"We don't want to draw unwanted attention to ourselves." She summarises, agreeing.
She wants to get to the camp. Soon. But she wants to get there in one piece.
They stagger themselves. Spreading out. Since she's unarmed he pairs with Abby. They move in silence. Tensed. Alert. Guns drawn. They had all run similar drills on the Ark and Abby followed his wordless cues well.
They were close enough to see the outline of a wall when he throws his arm out in front of her, forcing her to stop as a faint metallic click registers with him and his heart stops.
She freezes, though she looks mildly irritated by the gesture.
"Don't move." He tells her quietly, keeping his voice low, wanting to keep her as calm as possible.
"Marcus what-" She begins, her voice taut, clearly having caught something in his tone that's worried her despite his efforts to keep it neutral.
He crouches down beside her, resting one hand gently on her calf, hoping that the contact will soothe her somewhat. "It's okay." He says gently. She opens her mouth and he murmurs softly, "Trust me."
He motions for the rest of the group to keep back and to keep still. Until he knows exactly what they're dealing with he wants everyone to stay put.
She's tense. She knows that something's wrong. They can all feel it.
He carefully clears away the debris around her feet and feels her muscles contract, "What is it?" She asks her voice shaking though he can tell that she's fighting to keep it steady.
"A landmine." He replies, glancing up at her sharp intake of breath, her hand clamping over her mouth, terror flaring in her eyes.
He straightens up, "Hey." He murmurs firmly, "Look at me." She does, visibly trembling. "It's going to be okay, Abby." He tells her firmly, trying to project more confidence than he's feeling for her sake.
The use of her name helps a little, snaps her back. She forces a smile and says tautly, "Easy for you to say, you can just run off and leave me here."
"Would I?" He demands. She raises her eyebrows, shrugging, the effect ruined by the terrified little sound that bursts from her chest as she shakes. "I won't." He promises firmly.
"Can you disarm it?" She asks, her voice a little higher than usual.
"If you ask nicely." He replies lightly.
The corners of her mouth twitched and a short, humourless laugh was forced from her as she choked, "Screw you, Kane."
She dragged her fingers through her hair, glaring down at him and saying wryly, "I might take my foot off of this thing just to spite you."
"I wouldn't advise that." He smirks, crouching down for a closer look at the devices.
She stares straight ahead of her, taking several deep, panicked breaths.
"You're doing good, Abby." He tells her gently, "We're going to be fine."
He examines the mine for a few minute then tries to explain to her how it works, knowing that the more information he gives her and the more in control she feels as a result the better she'll handle this.
"The bomb is a mixture of two halves, one part gun-powder one part hydrazine. By stepping on it you've broken the guard separating them. You lift your foot off and it creates a spark that triggers an explosion. Simple. Effective."
"Marcus." She breathes tautly. He looks up at her, puzzled, "If you could avoid sounding so impressed with something that could kill me that'd be great."
He smiles, having the decency to flush, "It's clearly been improvised in a rush." He adds, clearing his throat, "It's nowhere near up to military standards." He concludes.
"Is that good or bad?" She asks bluntly.
"Both." He answers simply. Her eyes flash dangerously and he expands hastily, "It's been quickly put together. It wasn't designed to trap and kill cleverly but quickly and without distinction. That makes it easier to disarm." He says, she's waiting for the flipside and he decides not to sugar-coat it "But it also makes it volatile and unpredictable. Especially with the added hydrazine component. There's a chance that my trying to disarm it will set it off."
He watches her process this information then she draws herself up with a deep breath and says finally, "Go."
"Abby." He begins, confused.
"Go." She repeats harshly, her eyes blazing, her hands clenching into stubborn fists. Her voice shakes as she adds roughly, "There's no sense in us both dying, Marcus."
"No." He snaps curtly, "No-one is dying here, Abby, you're going to be-"
"And if I'm not?" She growls, "If it goes off, then it kills us both."
"I told you I wouldn't leave you. And I won't." He breathes, his voice soft but firm.
"Marcus-" She begins in frustration.
"That's not up for debate, Abby." He growls firmly. "I'm going to get you out of this."He promises sincerely.
"Or what? We're both going to die trying?" She demands, her eyes flashing again, clearly trying to push him into a reaction.
"Exactly." He snarls stubbornly, his tone more brutal than he had intended.
She turns her head away from him, swallowing hard and fighting back angry, terrified tears as she hisses a faint stream of curses into thin air, trying to calm herself down.
He softens and says quietly, "The chances of it going off are slim, Abby."
"But it's still a risk." She presses irritably.
"Yes." He agrees, "One that's worth taking to save your life." He informs her flatly. "Trust me, Abby." He murmurs gently as she begins to argue again.
She glares at him for a full minute before deflating slightly. She nods reluctantly.
He kneels down again and carefully begins picking the mine apart, trying to keep her calm as he does so.
"Is your med kit in your bag?" he asks her after several minutes of frustrating attempts to manage without any proper tools, an idea striking him.
She nods, "Yeah, front pouch. But I thought you said not to move." She adds hesitantly.
He grimaces at her, meeting her eyes and she takes a deep breath, "Okay then.."
He stands and walks in a circle around her, one hand lightly brushing her shoulder as he does so, trying to reassure her. He moves as close to her as he can to steady her and keep her still as he reaches for her pack.
Heat pours from her and she trembles beneath him, their bodies inches apart, tense and taut, thin chords stretched to their limits on the brink of snapping, nervous energy sparking between them as he reaches towards her.
He murmurs soothingly to her, noting the rigid outline of her muscles and talks her through everything that he's going to do before he does it, hoping that if she knows what's coming she'll be calmer about it. But she's a wreck with nerves and he can hardly blame her.
Forcing himself to keep his hands steady, he eases open her pack as gently as he can. Her hands had curled into tight fists clenched at her sides. He murmurs softly to her, acutely aware of how close she is. And of how sweet she smells. His breath plays across the back of her neck, lifting the hairs, making her shiver.
"Okay." He breathes to her a few seconds later, "Okay, I've got it, I've got it, we're good. You did good."
He can see the relief course through her as she visibly relaxes, allowing herself to breathe again as he moves away to examine the med kit, taking care where he stands.
"That was the easy part, right?" She asks, trying to lighten the mood, the effect ruined by her brittle voice as tension crackles in the air around them, sweat beginning to bead her forehead.
He finds a smile for her. Trying to reassure her. He picks through the kit until he finds a small pair of surgical scissors and some tweezers then bends down to examine the mine once more.
"What did we send them down to, Marcus?" She whispered.
"What do you mean?" he asks, distractedly, glancing up at her, seeing her staring straight ahead of him, looking through their surroundings to something only she can see, looking distressed.
"They have landmines rigged up all around their front door." She breathes, "That's a Hell of a welcoming committee." She trembles and he places a gentle hand just above her knee, desperate to soothe her and keep her steady, but she's still going on, "We dropped them into a war and made them fight for their lives. Our children. We left our children alone unarmed and undefended in a war-zone. And they, they were so scared that they have lethal explosives outside their-" Her voice breaks and she closes her eyes, trailing away.
She's shaking again, struggling to control herself. He reaches up and takes one of the hands by her side, still clenched in a tight, scared fist, and wraps his fingers around it, squeezing gently. She unfurls her fingers and lets them curl around his hand, gripping on to him. He can feel the tension that's tearing through her nerves spark through him at her touch and he squeezes once more, desperate to reassure her.
"If this is anything to go by they've handled it." He reminds her, nodding towards the mine beneath her foot.
"They shouldn't have had to." She tells him sharply, her voice still shaking.
He releases her hand, giving her side a gentle squeeze saying softly, "Everything's going to be alright, Abby."
He returns his attention to the mine. She seems to sense his need for quiet and calm and tries to remain as still and silent as possible but he can hear her short, terrified breaths coming in sharp pants above him.
He carefully picks apart the mine, removing the rough piece of metal between the jaws of the device that's set to spark the volatile mixture beneath it, only breathing once it's completely removed.
"Okay." He tells her a few moments later.
"That's it?" She asks shakily.
He nods. Sure that if that doesn't work, nothing else will. He's done everything he can. But he decides not to tell her in those exact words.
"Step forward." He says.
She takes deep breath. Her hands clench together. She closes her eyes. Lets them open again. They lock with his. And she lifts her foot from the mine.
A/N: Thank you for reading! I was a little bit more uncertain about this chapter so any feedback would be great, thanks guys :)