Chapter 4: "Keep Your Temper."
The rain had fallen steadily since morning, the sky a dark, foreboding grey and the breeze bitter cold. The gloominess of the weather was matched, if not surpassed, by the atmosphere among the residents of Arkadia. Clarke let out a deep sigh and she raised her face to the sky, letting raindrops splash on her cheeks and there they became indistinguishable from the tears that fell from her eyes. She lowered her head again and regarded the shape of Marcus Kane's body, wrapped in a bedsheet and laid out on the grass just outside the walls of Arkadia. It was where the bodies of those of the hundred lost in Mount Weather three months ago had been carried and put to rest and now Marcus would join them. To the left of the body was the grave, dug out ready in the early morning by Sinclair and Miller.
It had taken three days after the day of the execution for things in Arkadia to settle down following Pike's death. Three days of restructuring the chain of command, of making arrests and a few threats where necessary. Bit by bit, Pike's influence had faded enough until finally Clarke had the majority of her people back on her side. Or at the very least, willing to delegate to her for the time being and trust her to see them through to the end of the blockade. They were still waiting for word from the grounders that the blockade had ended, Indra having sworn to take the news of Pike's defeat to Lexa. It wouldn't be long and then Arkadia could decide once again who should lead them. But until then, Clarke had stepped up to the task and as the dust had settled she'd made arranging a proper burial for Marcus one of her first priorities. Now, as acting Chancellor, it fell to her to lead the proceedings.
Clarke shifted her attention from Marcus's body to the gathering of people before her. Most of Arkadia it seemed like were standing and waiting for her to speak. Even presented with so many faces, Clarke's eyes immediately found her Mother's in the crowd. She felt her heart lurch at the grief in her Mother's face, the way she was huddled into herself, the visible shake of her shoulders as tears came unbidden. Clarke swallowed and looked away.
"Marcus…" she began, but her voice was cracked and far too quiet. Clarke cleared her throat, breathed as evenly as she could and tried once more; "Marcus Kane was a kind, generous, peace-loving man. In life he dedicated himself to serving his people. As a council member on the Ark. As Chancellor and Guardsman on the ground. As friend and mentor always. In death-" Clarke paused and allowed the weight of that word, of that finality, hang in the air a moment; "In death he should be remembered for all he gave to us and for us. And he should be held as example of the type of person we should all strive to be down on our new home."
Clarke glanced around at the faces in the crowd again. Some of them were nodding at her words. Most remained subdued, heads bowed and eyes on the floor.
"Marcus was not afraid to make tough calls when they were needed," Clarke continued on and she knew that everyone present would know exactly what she was referring to with her words. "But he understood that those difficult decisions that we must sometimes make do not and should not define who we are. When Marcus arrived on the ground, he understood more than anyone that to make a home down here would require us to be the best we can possibly be. To take a chance on peace and forgiveness so that we might carve a place for the Sky people among those already living on the Earth. Marcus championed not just acceptance of new cultures and ideas, but actively seeking to understand, respect, and learn from those ideas. To take the time to find the common beliefs among us all. The common goals and desires that can unite us for years to come." Clarke measured each word she chose. The message she was sending was vastly important but she did not want Marcus's funeral service to sound like a political statement, only a statement about the tragedy of the loss of such a good soul. She took a breath.
"Marcus wanted us all to be safe and happy. He wanted us to live long, prosperous and peaceful lives here. Our arrival on the ground was violent but our future is what we make it. Marcus had faith in our ability to flourish here. Personally, he had faith in me even when I doubted my own difficult decisions. And I am sure he was often as generous with his time and encouragement with many of you as well. The best way that we can honour and move forward from this terrible, untimely loss is to prove to his memory and to ourselves that his faith in his people, a faith he held onto right until his last moments, was not in vain. We can make a good life down here. And we will."
There were murmurs of support and agreement from the crowd. Clarke picked out the most familiar faces. Miller and Harper standing together. Lincoln and Octavia on the edge of the group, arms wrapped around one another. When Clarke met Octavia's gaze, she found more gratitude and respect in her friend's' eyes than she had seen in a long time. Clarke offered a weak, supportive smile in return.
She continued to assess the crowd. A shiver prickled up her neck as she noted those who were absent. She could not pick out Raven or Monty. Jaha was not present either, nor were most of his followers. That was troubling, especially considering that many of the faces were Farm station survivors, those who had weighted the scales and put Pike into power. The sight of Clarke, Lincoln and Bellamy returning, Bellamy carrying Marcus's lifeless body, and the news of what had transpired at the blockade line had finally opened their eyes. The tipping point that Clarke had been waiting for had come sooner and in a more horrifying manner than she'd ever banked on. Clarke thought that perhaps it was time to accept that that was just how things happened on the ground but then she knew that was only giving in to the sort of pessimistic thinking she'd just been speaking against in Marcus's memory. She, like Marcus, did not want that to be the reality of life on the ground and so she would continue fighting to make sure that it wasn't. With every fibre of her being and every breath left she would fight for the peace that everyone deserved. Clarke felt her chin wobble as her thoughts brought her very own words back to her, echoing in her mind; 'shouldn't life be about more than just surviving?' She had to believe in those words now more than ever.
Clarke shook away the feelings of unease at who was and wasn't present for the funeral and the weight of the responsibilities that lay ahead and she focused again on leading the burial. Clarke expelled a shaky breath and she turned to the guards stood behind her. A curt nod spurred them into action and they moved, two of them lifting Marcus's body between them whilst the third lowered himself into the grave, ready to guide Marcus's body down into its final resting place.
"It is time to say goodbye," Clarke spoke up. She turned back to the crowd, "If you would all join me in honouring Marcus with the traveller's blessing."
There was at first an unintelligible rumble of voices as people began to speak and then the crowd found a rhythm and the words became syncronised and echoed into the dark day;
"In peace may you leave this shore, in love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground." As they spoke the blessing, the guards lowered Marcus's body into his grave.
"May we meet again," Clarke concluded the blessing in the traditional way,
"May we meet again," the gathered crowd repeated back.
Clarke turned and watched as the guards picked up shovels and immediately set about filling the grave. The rhythmic noise of dirt being shoveled, deposited, shoveled, deposited, rang in Clarke's ears. Her brain pounded against the inside of her skull.
"Yu gonplei ste odon, Marcus kom Skaikru," Clarke spoke lowly, wishing Marcus's spirit peace in the language of the people that he had- in his faith for human kindness- found allies, friends, and the possibility of a bright future among.
Monty stepped into the console room in the underbelly of Arkadia and found the space empty except for Raven.
"Hey!" He said, but Raven did not look up from the screen she was stood next to, her fingers working furiously at a keyboard. "Hey! Raven?" Monty shouted.
There was a beat and then Raven gave a jerk like she had just awoken from a bad dream or a trance. At last she turned from the console and looked at him blankly. "Monty," she said and her voice was as devoid of inflection as her face was expression. "You're late."
Monty stepped further into the space and reached to switch on another workstation. "I know. I was-" he stopped and tried to remember exactly why he hadn't managed to get to work until then. The reason seemed distant somehow, like he was trying to recall something from a week ago and not that morning. He'd woken up on time, that much he recalled. And then he had intended to go somewhere, to see someone perhaps. But instead he'd lost time and when he had awoken again, he had still been in his room and late for work.
Monty shook his head and reached into a pocket on his jacket, intending to retrieve the memory stick he had stored his previous days' work on. Instead he pulled out one of Jaha's chips. His brows furrowed. It was strange that he had the thing, he'd already taken one. He could almost swear that the chip was meant for something, for someone else. He tried to think, to remember. Before he could bring the answers within reach however, he startled at the appearance of ALIE at his side,
"Are you alright, Monty? I sensed some distress," she asked in her low and calming voice.
The effort that Monty had put into trying to remember who the second chip was for melted away at the sight of the AI, at the sound of her. He absentmindedly placed the chip on the side, "No, I'm fine," he said and already he felt much more clear headed, "Ready to get back to work!" As he spoke, he tried a different pocket and procured the memory stick he had been looking for. He plugged it into the console and watched as the bits and pieces of code he had pulled from Arkadia's records and copied appeared on the screen, white writing on the black background, row upon row.
"Good. With you and Raven working together, I'm sure we will find any residual information regarding the fate of Polaris and my upgrade quickly," ALIE said.
"And if we can't, maybe we can code our own," Raven chimed in and her voice was lighter than before, like the presence of the AI had lifted her spirits too.
"I'm sure we can achieve anything we want, Raven," ALIE agreed and then the holographic projection was gone as the AI returned full power into the metal backpack that had been hooked into Arkadia's computer systems by Raven.
The room fell into silence, the sound of the machinery whirring and the tapping of keys the only sounds in the air. Monty stared at the code on the screen, looking for anything that looked out of place, like it might be some residual information, a ghost code of the history the Ark had tried to erase. He felt himself almost falling into the screen, his eyes glazing over as he concentrated on the work before him. The world fell away without him noticing and were he able to look away from the console, Monty would've found himself in totally unfamiliar surroundings. Four white walls. A room devoid of furniture, of distraction, of anything except for him and his console. And the quiet whispers in his mind that, if he stopped and really listened to, would only tell him to get back on with his work for that was all that really mattered anymore.
Abby sat on the metal chair by the desk and looked down at her daughter's artwork. After the funeral had finished she had drifted about Arkadia, half hearing people give her their condolences as she'd walked by. She had moved aimlessly and had found herself in the room that Clarke had spent her week of house-arrest in. She felt numb and ready to crumble all at once. The shock at losing Marcus had knocked the breath from her and she didn't know if she'd ever catch it again; if she'd ever really be able to register that he was gone.
She cried because that was what you were supposed to do when you had lost someone you cared deeply for. Someone that you had- she wouldn't let herself think it. But it was true nonetheless and she had realised far too late. She had jumped at the glimmer of hope shining before her as that glimmer was already fading out and she had been met instead with nothingness. Her heart was in turmoil but it was also empty. Her mind screamed but it was quiet too. She looked down at the drawing her daughter had sketched of the person she loves and Abby felt everything and nothing.
The door slid open and Clarke padded into the room. Abby looked from the sketch to the artist and she tried to smile at her daughter, to show some sign that she was coping. Among the grief, the need, the pure instinct to be the strong one because she was the parent, propelled her from the chair and onto her feet. She moved forward and enveloped Clarke in a tight hug. Her daughter returned it, holding her tightly and Abby knew that her show of strength had failed. Clarke was holding her together, not the other way around. Abby sniffed at her failure and stepped away from Clarke's hold.
They regarded each other in silence and Abby could tell that her daughter was measuring her expression, was taking a note of the contradiction in her teary but stony gaze.
"I have something for you," Clarke finally spoke and her own voice was hoarse from the tears that had been shed that day.
Abby waited and said nothing. She watched as her daughter reached into her pocket and took out a piece of cloth, no, a piece of Marcus's guard jacket. Clarke handed it over. Abby accepted the gift and the fabric unraveled in her palm to reveal a lock of Marcus's hair.
"Something for you to keep," Clarke explained, and then, "You know it's traditional among the grounders to take a braid as a keepsake when a loved one passes. Marcus didn't have any braids but-"
"Thank you, Clarke," Abby spoke and her voice was barely even a whisper. She gathered her hand into a fist, holding tight to the gift her daughter had given her. The gift of memory.
Abby turned away from Clarke and moved back to the desk. She sunk back into the chair and glanced at the drawing again. Still she clutched the fabric. "I waited too long to see what I had," Abby admitted, referring back to the conversation they'd had in that very room only four days ago.
Clarke closed the distance between them and placed a warm hand on Abby's shoulder. "I always wondered about you and Marcus."
Abby sighed. She placed the lock of hair onto the desk and regarded it a while. Then her eyes shifted from the little piece of memory to the drawing pad. She reached out and traced the lines of her daughter's work, another type of memory for a person not lost, but left behind for now. Abby could almost feel the love that had been poured into the sketch emanating off of the page. In the effort that had gone into bringing something far away a little bit closer. "Promise me something Clarke?" Abby asked and she moved her hand away from the drawing pad and placed it over the one her daughter kept on her shoulder and squeezed.
"Promise what?"
Abby turned her head and looked up at her daughter, her beautiful grown-up daughter. "Promise me that you won't waste your own opportunity to be happy. To love and be loved. Promise me that you'll be strong because life won't let you wait for it to be convenient. Promise me that even when you have responsibilities that only want to tear you away from your happiness, you won't let them. You will take every moment you can get and you will live every moment to the fullest. Don't wait for a better day. Don't bank on someday. Take everything you can get, dare to have it all at once or not at all. Promise me you'll have the strength to do that, to fight for it?"
There was a moment as Abby's request hung in the air, as if both of them were stunned into silence by the fervour of her words. Then, Clarke placed her free hand over the one Abby had over her other. Abby watched as her daughter's eyes flickered down to the sketch and then back to meet her imploring stare.
"I promise," she answered simply and it was enough to bring a weak smile to Abby's lips.
Abby gazed at the lock of hair again, the deep brown against the black blue of the swatch of fabric. It suddenly reminded her of the time she had tried to offer her daughter a similar comfort by collecting and saving some of Finn's ashes. Clarke had refused to take them at the time and now, thanks to Jasper, those had been lost too. Abby soured as the thought of Finn inevitably turned her mind to Raven. Her absence at the funeral had been duly noted by Abby. Whatever Jaha had the young mechanic working on, surely wasn't more important to Raven than saying goodbye to friends. At least not the Raven that Abby knew and had come to regard as almost a surrogate daughter. But that Raven had been worryingly absent for a while now, ever since she took the chip. Abby understood Raven's motivations, any chance at relieving such serious chronic pain would be too tempting to say no to. But the chips took away much more than that Abby was sure.
"Raven wasn't at the burial," Abby spoke her concerns aloud. She hated to further burden her daughter but she knew Clarke would want to be kept informed of the effect Jaha's work was having on Arkadia, on the people she was currently leading.
"I noticed."
Abby tensed her jaw. "I'm worried about her. About everyone who has taken the chips, but Raven most of all,"
Clarke removed her hand from Abby's shoulder and crossed her arms, "When she visited me during my arrest last week, the one time she did, she seemed-" Clarke paused a moment, "Muted?"
Abby nodded at the assessment, "She's no longer in pain and for that I am thrilled. But that chip has taken away her fire. She's working on something for Jaha, he won't say what. But it's like that's the only thing that matters to her anymore, the only thing that holds any meaning."
"We've all been in danger of losing ourselves down here," Clarke said gravely, "But this is something even worse than that isn't it?"
"I think so. You know, the reason why I tried to take the chips from Jaha, before he got someone to steal them back, was because he had totally forgotten Wells."
"Forgotten Wells? His own son?" Clarke was incredulous, her voice cracking in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"
Abby sighed. "You had enough to worry about! Focusing on getting to Pike and ending the blockade. And telling you about it whilst you were under house arrest would have only made you feel worse. I couldn't do that to you."
Clarke gave a sharp exhale and Abby caught the way her eyes rolled but she did not react back. She understood the pressures of being in charge all too well by now. Of feeling stretched in every direction at once, of feeling like there would never be an end to the problems facing the people you were trying to keep safe,
"It's one thing after another, isn't it?" Clarke scoffed, echoing her mother's very thoughts. Clarke shifted her weight, obviously keen to go and start doing something, anything, with the information she had just been given.
"You should get to work," Abby prompted.
She watched her daughter tense her jaw, conflicted about leaving her no doubt,
"I'll be fine, Clarke. I just need a little time," Abby assured and then, "I'm sorry I'm not up to more-"
"No. Don't apologise for needing to grieve, Mom," Clarke cut her off. She moved forward again and stooped down, placing a kiss to Abby's forehead. "I'll ask Raven to come speak with me after the council meeting I've planned," Clarke spoke as she righted herself again. "Maybe I can get through to her and start to unravel what exactly is going on with the chips."
With that, her daughter turned on her heel and left the room. Abby stayed in the chair. She took the lock of hair in her fingers and felt its softness and imagined what might have been. A sob reverberated through the empty room.
Octavia growled as paced the small space in the bedroom she and Lincoln shared in Arkadia. Too metal. Too confined. Too much like sixteen years of hell already endured.
"Octavia, come here," Lincoln's voice pierced through her frustration despite how softly he spoke.
She stopped pacing and turned to face him. He was stretched out on the bed, shoes kicked off. Relaxed and smirking at her as if he had not nearly been brutally executed just four days ago. Octavia huffed but she smiled back and approached the bed, plopping herself down onto the mattress. Lincoln rolled onto his side and surrounded her with his ever calming presence, propped up on his elbow and gazing up at her with his beautiful brown eyes.
"Nou get yu daun," he said and then, "Indra will return from Polis soon and the blockade will be lifted." It was a habit of theirs to switch fluidly between both of their native languages.
"And then we'll be out of here at last," Octavia finished and she relished the thought.
They had not yet decided where they would go. Into the woods for a while probably, just to enjoy being with one another away from everyone else. Then to Polis and back to their lives as a healer and a warrior's second. Or maybe to the territory of the Boat Clan to start a new life completely. But for now, they sat and waited.
Lincoln did not reply. Instead he sat up and leaned in and placed a kiss on Octavia's lips. Octavia relished the feeling, the closeness, the absolute proof that Lincoln was still alive and hers as she was his.
"Ai hod yu in," Octavia whispered as they parted and she rested her forehead against his,
"Ai hod yu in seintaim," came the reply without hesitation.
They stayed like that awhile, content.
"Have you been to see your brother yet?" Lincoln broke the silence.
Octavia gave a whine of protest, "No. I've told you I've got nothing to say to him."
"You should say your goodbyes at least, Octavia," Lincoln argued, "And if you say them now rather than later, it will be easier when it's time for us to go."
Octavia had to admit that Lincoln was right. She wanted Bellamy out of her mind. But she also, in her lingering anger towards him, wanted Bellamy to know for certain that he was going to lose her in every sense of the word.
"Alright," Octavia said, and she sprung back off the bed and made to leave for the cell room that she herself had been captive in before everything had been turned around.
"Don't go too hard on him," Lincoln asked, though Octavia could pick up the lack of conviction in his voice. Whether he agreed with the extent of her fury or not, Lincoln would never presume to tell her that she could not feel how she was feeling.
"What?" Octavia chided, "Like he didn't go too hard at trying to save innocent lives until Kane was already shot in the face?"
She stalked out of the room without waiting for Lincoln's reply.
Murphy kept his eyes closed as he allowed Emori to finish her work. He felt as her hands worked the rabbit blood onto his cheeks, making sure that it looked convincing.
"Ok, you're set," she said,
Murphy opened his eyes and gave a smile, "How do I look?"
"Like death warmed up, now go get in the road and do your job," Emori responded.
Murphy scoffed but he complied, springing out from the brush at the side of the road. He moved quickly to the middle of the path and then dropped down onto the mossy dirt, making it look as though he had been badly beaten and abandoned by an unknown assailant.
They had covered a fair amount of ground on their way back to Arkadia in the past three and a half days but still there were four more to go before they got anywhere close to the settlement. So when they had encountered a lone rider on horseback during their walk, well it had been an opportunity too good to pass up. They had sprinted through the dense woods, hoping to cut off the rider by the time he had followed the meandering road. Murphy stayed perfectly still, the trap set and sure enough after some minutes, the sound of hooves on the ground began to draw close.
It was a risk every time he and Emori used the trick. Maybe their quarry would not stop, or worse Murphy could be trampled out of fear or malice. But this time, luck seemed to be on their side as the sound of the horses' hooves slowed and then stopped,
"Hei?" The rider's voice rang out and then there were footsteps.
Murphy held his breath, making sure that not even the slightest movement would give the game away. The man got closer still,
"Hei hef? Yu os?"
Murphy waited just a moment longer for his signal and sure enough, Emori's voice suddenly pierced through the air in a loud cry. Murphy's eyes flew open in time to watch the rider wheel about in confusion and that's when Murphy made his move. He sprang onto his feet and pushed into the unsuspecting rider with all his might, sending the man sprawling onto the road. The man gave a howl as his knees took the brunt of his weight.
By now, Emori had saddled up on the abandoned horse and she kicked her heels into the beast's sides to spur it forwards. She slowed the horse and waited for Murphy to clamber on behind her and he got himself comfortable and wrapped his arms around her middle for balance.
With another kick of her heels they were away, the rider abandoned in the road, still trying to pick himself back up. Murphy didn't bother to look back at their victim and instead he leaned closer against Emori's back, the fabric of her jacket rough against his bare chest.
"Hey, you did remember to pick my clothes up right?" He asked.
Emori turned to look at his over her shoulder and she smirked. "Maybe," was all the reply she gave.
They galloped through the forest with bright smiles on their faces, encouraged by the idea of being only two days away from Arkadia and from Otan now rather than four.
Miller offered her a nod as Octavia entered the cell room. She returned it and took a great deal of satisfaction in seeing her friend, previously imprisoned with her, now tasked with guarding the new prisoners. He was stood stock still in front of the large cell, watching over it's inhabitants.
Octavia stared through the bars in disgust. There were around ten people locked away in the space, Pike's most loyal supporters, those who had refused to accept Clarke's leadership and had instead chosen imprisonment. Monty's mother was one of them. Shawn was in there too, his face as self-righteous as ever. Octavia sneered back when he met her eyes.
Octavia glanced away and at Miller again; "Bet you're glad Bryan has a bit more sense than that lot right?"
Miller gave a smirk at Octavia's open insult, "Damn right," he answered.
There was a snigger from the other guard in the room and Octavia turned. It was Harper, "Don't," she said, "You don't have to bunk in the room next door to them."
Octavia gave a laugh. "Hey Harper, how are you doing?"
The mood dropped considerably as Harper offered a sad sort of smile, "Alright," she replied with an unconvincing nod. "Better now Clarke's trying to sort everyone's mess out. Makes you feel like you might actually have the time to process you know?"
Octavia gave her own nod of understanding, "I'm sorry about Zoe," she said and she would have said more if it wasn't for the growl that emanated from the smaller cell in the room that Harper was stood in front of.
"You're sorry for getting her killed you mean?" Bellamy's voice came from the single cell he was locked in. It was for his protection, or maybe to protect the other prisoners from him. Octavia had not really paid any attention to Clarke's exact words when their acting Chancellor had informed her that her brother had been locked away. The fact that he had been was satisfaction enough.
"Octavia didn't kill Zoe, she was trying to warn innocent people about an incoming attack," Harper spoke up and though Octavia certainly didn't need anyone to speak for her, it was a comfort to hear that Harper knew that. "Zoe died because she was on the wrong side and she paid for that mistake. And she was on the wrong side because she trusted you!"
Octavia raised a hand, "It's ok Harper, I'll take it from here," she said and she closed the remaining distance between herself and the bars to Bellamy's cell and crouched down.
Her brother was huddled in the very corner of the cell, his back against the wall and his arms looped around his knees. He looked quite pathetic.
"Well I'm disappointed, Bell. I thought I was going to get some tears at least," Octavia spat.
Bellamy glanced at her over his knees but said nothing.
"You really have nothing to say? Well this is a first-"
"What do you want Octavia?" Bellamy asked now, his voice low and angry.
Octavia fixed her eyes on his. "I've come to say goodbye," she said. "As soon as the blockade is lifted, Lincoln and I are out of here."
"Fine," Bellamy responded petulantly.
Octavia rolled her eyes, "I hope you know that just because you didn't let Pike kill Lincoln doesn't mean I'll ever forgive you. It was too little too late the moment you let him execute the first prisoner. Let alone the next four," Octavia's voice grew louder as she spoke, "Let alone Kane!"
"Stop!" Bellamy finally shouted back, the reaction Octavia had, perhaps pettily, been waiting to see. Bellamy picked himself off the floor at last and stalked right over to the bars. Octavia stood up too and they stared each other down. "I tried to save Kane but I wasn't quick enough!" Bellamy argued, "I didn't think he was going to shoot yet, I-"
"Didn't you hear the part where I said it was already too late after the first prisoner?" Octavia spat back.
Tears began to fall down Bellamy's cheeks. He gripped at the bars and rested his forehead against them. "Will you ever come back?" He whispered.
Octavia tensed her jaw. "Maybe, if I'm needed," she admitted and then, "But never for you."
Octavia stepped away from the cell then, satisfied she had been heard. She turned away from the cell and made to leave,
"Octavia!" Bellamy called out after her, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Octavia stopped walking and she looked back at him, "You always will be." With that, she walked away from the crying man who was once her big brother.
Clarke lifted her head from the map strewn on the table as she heard the door to the Chancellor's office- her office- open. It was Octavia who walked into the room.
"Sorry I'm late," Octavia spoke.
"You're right on time," Clarke responded and she gestured that Octavia should join the group around the table.
Sinclair was there too. So was David Miller, who in the absence of anyone with more experience, had come out of retirement and once again taken up the mantle as Chief Guardsman. They, along with Octavia were the first members of Clarke's council. Her Mother was also a member, though Clarke would wait as long as necessary for her Mother to feel ready to resume her duties.
It was a small group indeed and would be smaller once Octavia had left Arkadia. Too many people had been lost, too many people had fallen to Jaha's influence and, especially with what she and Abby had discussed earlier, could not be trusted to play any part in shaping Arkadia's future. Still, Clarke was bolstered to see the four of them gathered around the planning table. After three days of reshuffling and trying to even secure her position as Arkadia's temporary leader, Clarke felt good to be finally be able to look forward.
"Now that everything has settled down inside Arkadia's walls," Clarke began the meeting without further ado, "it's time to start looking to our place outside of these walls."
Her new council members nodded their agreement.
"When Indra returns with the order to disband the blockade, we need to be ready to prove that Arkadia, that Skaikru are ready and willing to accept their place as the thirteenth clan in the Coalition. We- I- will retake the brand that Pike rejected and we will take our place among the wider society on the ground." Clarke paused for a moment. She knew that many of her people would still be apprehensive, if not downright hostile, to the idea of swearing allegiance to the grounders' political system once again. She needed to make sure that everyone understood that it was in their best interest to. "We are the invaders in this narrative," Clarke stated clearly, pointing a finger for emphasis, "The land we currently live on was not ours to take and yet it has been granted to us so that we may make a life down here. But in order to do that we need to make ourselves useful. We need to prove ourselves to be worthy allies. We are a small, small, group of people. We don't know the ground as well as the other clans do. We don't have the cultural history shared by those who have lived and died on the ground since the bombs fell. The other clans look at us and they only see more mouths to feed. More people using resources that were scarce already. And Pike's actions have only worsened their distaste for our being here tenfold."
Clarke watched as the faces around the table soured at the very mention of Pike's name. They all knew that they were still very much on a knife's edge. If Clarke pushed too far too quickly, she would only be removed from power and replaced by one of Pike's people again. The sight of Bellamy carrying Kane's lifeless body through the gates had given everyone pause, had tipped the scales in Clarke's favour for the time being. But scales could tip back again if she didn't play her cards exactly right. It was a tremendous weight to carry and now Clarke was beginning to fully understand the magnitude of what she had been asking Lexa to do when she'd begged her to change the entire traditions of her people rather than lay waste to Arkadia.
"So how do we make ourselves welcome here after making such a terrible first impression?" Sinclair asked, shaking Clarke from her thoughts.
When Clarke met Octavia's eyes, her friend was smirking at her like she'd known exactly where Clarke's thoughts had drifted. Clarke frowned back and she hoped that it was just Octavia's excellent intuition and not outright transparency on her own part.
"Well," Clarke spoke again. She cleared her throat, "We need to focus on what we can offer to the Coalition. Our technology itself might scare them, but if we can use it to do good for everyone then we will all benefit."
"The soil sampling?" Octavia suggested immediately and Clarke regarded the young warrior proudly.
"Exactly. Pike wanted to take farmland by force. But if we offered to collect samples from each clan's territory and provide guidance on where the most arable soil is then I'm sure the clans would act on that information. Their villages could be relocated to free the best soil and then everyone would benefit from the increased harvests."
David Miller shook his head at that. "We could already have had half the samples taken by now if we'd have accepted our place in the Coalition to begin with," he stated. It was obvious, but even so hearing it said aloud was powerful.
Until the word returned from Polis that the blockade could be lifted, Arkadia was still surviving on rations of what they had managed to grow and gather before the mess had started. It was yet another thing counting against Clarke's leadership if she could not promise a quick end to the food shortage and the slow starvation of her people.
"We would have been halfway to being a viable society already if not for Pike. Everything that he thought we had to fight for was and will be offered to us under the terms of the Coalition. Trade. Knowledge. Land. All that we need to do is make sure we are ready to give something back in kind."
Clarke was about to say more, perhaps bring up her plans to reopen the medical facilities of Arkadia to grounders, not only sick ones, but their healers so that they may share techniques. But she was interrupted by an insistent knock on the door. She could guess who it was and Clarke swallowed.
"Meeting adjourned for now," she said, "We'll discuss this further at the meeting tomorrow. In the meantime, keep your thinking caps on,"
Her council members nodded and moved to take their leave. Once they had all left, the person who had interrupted the meeting stepped into the office. Clarke regarded Raven and was horrified at the sight of her dear friend. Raven looked clammy and pale, like she hadn't seen sunlight in far too long. She was drawn in the face, like she hadn't even been eating her rations. And yet when Raven walked further into the room, in was confidently and without any trace of pain or discomfort in her face. The sight was awfully disconcerting.
"You sent for me?" Raven spoke and her voice, though recognisable, was somehow hollow. It didn't have it's usual fire behind it.
"Yes," Clarke replied, "I've heard you've been burying yourself in your work recently and just wanted to check in." Clarke did not really know how best to approach Raven. She liked to think she knew the mechanic pretty well by now and normally, she'd expect a few raised eyebrows and a snide comment in return for her concern. Raven's face remained totally passive.
"The work is important," was all she offered back.
Clarke creased her brow, "This is work you are doing for Jaha, right? What is it?"
The response Raven had to that prompt was odd. Raven didn't respond at first. Instead she turned her head to the side and nodded. If Clarke didn't think it was entirely too crazy, she would have guessed that Raven was having another conversation with someone invisible. Raven turned back to Clarke.
"Jaha can be trusted," she said.
"That's not what I asked," Clarke shot back.
The atmosphere grew tense. Clarke needed to get to the bottom of what Jaha's chips were doing to her people, to what their real purpose was. If she had to use her friend to do that then she would.
"What are you working on for Jaha?" Clarke asked again, insistent.
Raven stared, empty eyed, "A better future for us."
Clarke actually sniggered. "Then surely both of you should have been at the council meeting lending support. Believe it or, that's what I want for us too,"
"No," Raven said back and if her voice was hollow before, now it was as if it didn't belong to her at all, "You expect your people to keep suffering in the hopes of building a better world. I want my people to have that better world now."
"Who's Finn?" Clarke asked the question she had been waiting to immediately after Raven had finished talking. She was hoping that the sudden mention of his name would finally elicit some emotional response from her friend. When it did not, Clarke felt her blood run cold.
"I don't know who Finn is," Raven replied mechanically, "Why did you interrupt me to ask about someone I don't know?"
When Abby had told Clarke that Jaha had forgotten his own son, Clarke had not been able to really believe it. But now here she was asking Raven about the boy they had both loved and Raven had no idea who he was.
"The chips stop you from feeling pain? Correct?" Clarke snapped out the questions.
Raven nodded.
Clarke moved closer to her friend until they were inches apart. She stared into Raven's eyes and they stared back at her like the eyes of a corpse.
"I don't know what or who you are in there," Clarke whispered, "But I'm not going to let you take anymore of my friends away from me. What you are doing is not erasing pain, it's erasing them."
"Why are you talking to me like you don't know me, Clarke?" Raven asked and Clarke stepped back in shock as Raven's voice was suddenly almost back to normal.
"I do know who you are Raven," Clarke answered, "The question is do you?"
Clarke watched as tears formed in Raven's eyes. If she could feel pain, Clarke was sure Raven's features would of contorted with it. Instead her friend stood still and wept and shook her head, "Who am I?" She croaked out and then she turned on her heel and fled the office before Clarke could even try to explain or to help.
"Who am I?" Raven screamed the question again, her voice bouncing off the metal walls as she stormed forward.
"You are Raven Reyes. Mechanic. Born April 11th 2130 on Mecha Station of the Ark. Mother's name-"
"Shut up! Shut up!" Raven screamed at ALIE. The AI was in front of her, seeming to float backwards as Raven walked, totally inescapable, "Get out of my head!"
"I'm not in your head, Raven," ALIE said matter-of-factly.
Raven nearly growled, "No but you were back in the Chancellor's office! You are when I'm working, making sure I don't stop to think about anything else," Raven stopped walking and she let out a sob, "And now I can't even remember anything else!"
ALIE stopped too and she regarded Raven with a cocked head and a passive expression. "Do you mean to say that you would like to feel the pain you were in again?"
Raven gritted her teeth and peered up at the AI, "Is that a threat?"
"Not at all. Merely a reminder of why you took the chip in the first place. Of why you were previously so keen to help me," ALIE rationalised,
"Help you do what exactly? Become more powerful so that you can take away more people's memories?" Raven spat out through the tears that would not stop coming. Another sob wracked through her.
"So that I can make life better for humans by offering more of them an alternative to the life of pain that they currently endure. A life that you once endured and seem now intent on returning to,"
As ALIE said those words her form, so brilliantly real and three dimensional in appearance, flickered away and back again. When the image of her returned her face, usually calming and passive, was twisted into something entirely more sinister. She stared at Raven and as her artificial eyes burned through Raven's skin, so Raven's leg began to throb. The pain swelled and swelled until it surpassed even the worst pain Raven had ever been in before she had taken the chip. Raven let out a scream and fell to the floor, unable to keep her weight on her broken body. She writhed about on the cool metal in agony,
"Stop it!" She wailed, "Make it stop, please."
The pain stopped instantly and when Raven peered up, she saw that the dark and dangerous look had disappeared from ALIE's face.
"When I have my upgrade, people will no longer suffer from the unfortunate side effect of losing memories along with their pain," ALIE said softly, "So unless you want more of your friends to feel as lost as you do Raven, you better get back to work."
Raven picked herself up off the floor and wiped a hand over her eyes. "And what about the people who've already taken chips?"
ALIE smiled. "When they leave the real world for the last time, they won't worry about what has been sacrificed to reach utopia. They won't even remember."
Raven raised an eyebrow. "We'll see about that you damn piece of crap machine," she chided and then she stormed forward again.
ALIE did not follow this time, instead the AI disappeared. The thing knew it had won for now. Raven would go and continue to work because she had little choice. Now that she knew the AI could turn her pain receptors back on at whim, she was trapped until her connection to the AI was severed completely. If only Raven could remember the stubborn girl she thought she might once have been, if only she could recall her strength of spirit. Maybe she could. As Raven moved back towards the console room, two words kept repeating in her mind, a question she almost knew was the key to breaking free; Who's Finn? Who's Finn? Who's Finn?
Clarke marched into the hangar, making every step she took echo as her boots hit the metal floor.
"Jaha!" She shouted as her quarry came into her sight. He was in his usual spot in the corner of the large room, on his knees with his eyes closed.
There was a moment and then Jaha's eyes darted open,
"Clarke? Is there something I can do for you?" Jaha asked evenly and Clarke wanted to scream at him. Her nostrils flared as she swallowed the urge down and she locked her eyes on the kneeling man.
"Yes. You can tell me what the hell your chips are doing to my friends!"
Jaha stood up. "I'm just trying to help my people Clarke. By taking their pain away. By offering them something better. Surely you can understand the desire to do that?"
Clarke tensed her jaw. "That isn't an answer, Thelonious."
The hairs on the back of Clarke's neck prickled when Jaha responded by repeating the same action she had seen Raven make earlier. He turned his head to the side and began to nod at thin air,
"There! Look at you! Who are you talking to?" Clarke cried out, desperate for answers.
Jaha gave a sigh and turned back to Clarke. "You wouldn't understand," he replied.
Raven worked furiously at the console, typing line after line of code. She could not stop, she could not find it in herself to tell her brain to stop. Still the question repeated in her mind; Who's Finn?
"Who's Finn?" She whispered to herself desperately. Her eyes began to blur, the speed at which her work was appearing on the screen before her too fast to take in. But she wasn't the one typing, not really.
She could feel ALIEs talons tearing through her mind, trying to regain absolute control of Raven's mind as the AI had control of her body.
"Finn," Raven said, "Finn, Finn, Finn, Finn…" she repeated the name like it was a prayer. Her last prayer.
The mantra rang in her ears and she felt for the briefest moment a slip on ALIEs control, the claws in her mind loosening their grip as if they'd come into contact with something unpleasant. She used the split second of increased freedom to tear her eyes away from the console screen and she found herself looking down at the necklace that hung about her neck. An origami raven. She was Raven. And Raven had loved and lost a boy named Finn.
"Hey, what are you doing in here?" Miller asked as the door to the cell room opened to reveal Peterson.
The former guard may have sworn to have changed his ways following Kane's death and Pike's violent removal from power but Miller did not trust that at all. Of course, the threat of imprisonment loomed over any of Pike's old supporters that proved themselves still loyal to his agenda, but that had not deterred many of Pike's most loyal followers from remaining staunch in their support. Those people were locked up in the cell that Miller guarded. He would have bet his rations on Peterson being one of the people in the cell and yet, he was the man standing free before him.
"Visiting friends," Peterson said.
Miller sighed and shrugged, "Fine, but I'm watching you."
Peterson gave a sickening smile and moved closer to the large cell. Miller kept watch out of the corner of his eyes.
"Hannah, I have something for you," Peterson spoke.
Miller turned and faced the cell and watched as Hannah picked herself up off the floor and approached the bars. Miller could not help but wrinkle his nose in disgust at the thought that such a horrible woman was Monty's mother.
Peterson reached into his pocket and pulled a small white shape out.
"What is that?" Miller asked.
Peterson turned to him, "It's a gift for Hannah from Monty."
Peterson reached through the bars and placed the thing into Hannah's waiting palm. Miller made no move to stop him, he did not want to get in the way of his friend trying to reconnect with his family. Miller knew how it felt to be on opposite sides from those you cared about it and would not try to stop anyone from rebuilding bridges, no matter if he could never forgive Hannah and the other prisoners himself.
"Monty says he is sorry he has not been to visit you. He is very busy. He is doing very important work."
Miller raised his brow at that. He was cautious suddenly. There was something off about Peterson's voice. Something strangely mechanical in the way he spoke.
"Monty says that this will help. Trust him. Trust me." Peterson made a gesture that Hannah should swallow the chip.
"Wait!" Miller shouted, certain that something untoward had just slipped by him but he was too late.
Hannah swallowed the chip and Miller held his breath. But nothing happened. He waited, staring from Hannah, to Peterson and back again. Still nothing,
"What was that thing?" Miller finally asked Peterson, cutting into the silence that had descended.
"It was the straw that broke the donkey's back," Peterson replied and if his voice had been strange before, now it was downright chilling.
Before Miller could react, Peterson fell to the floor in a heap. A thud came from inside the cell and when he turned, Hannah had collapsed as well. The other prisoners sprang up and towards Hannah at the same time that Miller did the same to Peterson. He shook the man vigorously and got no response. Panicked, Miller checked for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he found one, still strong. But still, Peterson and Hannah remained unresponsive.
"Help!" Miller cried out, "Medic!"
ALIE smiled as she felt a new signal burst into being. She could feel the scales tip, the power that she needed to fulfill her primary function finally granted to her as the chip she had taken as Peterson from the side in the console room- carelessly left there forgotten by Monty- had been swallowed.
She'd gained enough power to control the humans one or two at a time already but now, with that final push she knew she was ready to lead the whole of Arkadia to its salvation. And it had come not a moment too soon. Even as she appeared in the hangar, ALIE could feel her grip on Raven's mind weakening, the signals from the filaments lodged into the mechanics brainstem losing their signal among the noise of Raven fighting to remember a different sort of connection that no technology, no matter how advanced, could duplicate or process. ALIE needed the power to act quickly before her weakness was discovered.
ALIE turned her attention back to Thelonious, her dearest believer was still trying to dodge Clarke Griffin's questions.
"Don't worry Thelonius she's too late," ALIE said. Jaha stopped talking to Clarke mid-sentence and turned to her- to empty air in Clarke's eyes- with an expectant look upon his face. "Peterson took the chip to Hannah Green and she took it."
"You actually made him do that?" Jaha asked her, no longer caring how he must look in his desperation for answers. ALIE could feel his desperation.
"Yes. And now I can do so much more." ALIE smiled widely.
"Thelonious who the hell are you talking to? What the hell are you being told to do by that damn chip you swallowed? Answer me!" Clarke's voice rang through the hangar. It was a harsh grating sound even to ALIEs artificial ears. ALIE turned and regarded the woman, the new Chancellor of Arkadia, with disgust.
"Tell her Thelonious," ALIE prompted and she smiled at the way the man spread his arms out and opened his palms as he delivered his line;
"I'm leading my people on their final journey to the City of Light."
Finn had been the boy she loved, Raven remembered now. She closed her eyes, blocked the console from her view and conjured up an image of his face. How could she have forgotten? It came so clearly to her mind now, his cheeky grin, his light brown eyes, his soft hair. Raven smiled at the images in her mind, the joy of remembering a loved one bringing her peace like she hadn't felt in a long time. She hadn't felt anything at all in far too long. As she thought that the images of his face began to fade against her will.
"No!" Raven cried out, "No, come back!"
She fought but still the memories receded and were once again replaced by blackness and nothingness and then all of a sudden, everything went white. Raven did not feel herself hit the floor of the console room, instead she found herself jerking awake on a plush sofa in an unfamiliar space. ALIE was standing before her and Raven sat up on the couch and regarded the woman.
"A bad dream," ALIE spoke and her voice soothed Raven and brought her mind more clearly into her surroundings. Into the present.
"A bad dream," Raven agreed.