*Warning: graphic content in this chapter.
"Shanara," Wells shakes her uninjured shoulder. "Wake up."
She stirs, bolting upright. She glances around the dropship as she tries to slow her breathing. Shanara's hand instinctively goes to her shoulder as the numb pain continues to make her uncomfortable. She can feel that her blood has almost soaked through the t-shirt she effectively wrapped around her shoulder to try and minimise the amount of blood pouring out the open wound.
"What's happened?" Shanara finds herself asking anyone willing to answer.
"You passed out," Wells looks down at her, his expression pained.
"How long have I been unconscious?" Shanara gets to her feet rather ungracefully.
"A long time. You stirred a couple times but you've probably been out a day," he pauses. "We're opening the door."
"What?"
Shanara's eyes fly to the front of the dropship. In the darkness, she notices Graham has his hand on the leaver which she knows opens the door. He quietly speaks to those who stand in front of him, the older boys and girls with weapons in their hands. Everyone else stands behind them, shaking and comforting each other. A strange stench fills her nostrils and she tries not to gag. The residual smoke drifting around the dropship makes her eyes sting. For once, Shanara doesn't know what to say. She knows that they can't stay in the dropship forever, but what if they open the doors and the Grounders are outside waiting?
Wells' eyes bore into hers as she opens her mouth, no words coming out. He squeezes her hand and leaves her then, joining the ranks of those gathered around Graham. She searches their faces, and her heart shatters when she sees their broken expressions.
"Stay inside the dropship until we tell you it's clear outside!" Graham shouts at everyone. His eyes find Shanara in the shrouded darkness. "If you hear bullets go off when we get out there, give us 20 seconds. If we don't make it back inside by then, close the door."
Shanara stares at him blankly.
"Understand?" Graham says sternly, his eyes wide.
"Yes," she manages to reply.
Before Shanara manages to wrap her head around everything that is happening, the dropship's door opens and the bright daylight seeps through as those who are armed inch outside tentatively. A painful moment passes before Shanara hears anything. Then a cry escapes one of the girls aboard the dropship, then a gasp, then another and another and another. Shanara pushes herself off the wall and through the thick crowed of kids. She's near the dropship's entrance when a voice echo's from the outside.
"Stay in the dropship!"
The warning came too late. By the time Graham's words reach Shanara, she's hovering in the wide doorway, blinking at the awful, retched sight before her. The wooden cabins the delinquents worked so hard on are now reduced to nothing but charred rubble. Their tents are melted plastic. A mixture of smells assaults their nostrils. The armed kids crawl over their destroyed camp, weapons up and ready, stumbling about as they look up at the trees. Shanara hears some of them gag and throw up as she's frozen in place, her eyes glued to the trees, the pain in her leg and shoulder long forgotten. The cries behind her grow louder as everyone's sight settles on the bodies of their friends, hanging from the trees.
Shanara doesn't realise she's walking forward toward the trees until Graham's telling her to get back into the dropship. Wells is grabbing her around waist, stopping her as she ignores Graham's orders. Wells tells her it's not safe to go to them, to the trees, to their friends hanging from them. In that moment, Shanara looses it. Her mind rages as she stares at the rope wrapped around their ankles and tied to thick branches that supports their dead weight. Her head spins as she glances from one side of their burning camp to the other, a single body suspended on eleven different trees. Eleven kids dead. Shanara's eyes sting with tears as she asks herself why, as she asks herself what is the point of all this, as she asks herself if life is worth living.
"Get off of me," Shanara shoves Wells away from her. "Fuck this!"
She walks forward, past the perimeter the older teenagers have created and closer to the entrance of the woods. She looks up at the trees which she once thought were beautiful, but now seem like nothing but rotten nightmares. Shanara opens her arms and spins around, crazed, tears spilling from her eyes angrily.
"COME ON THEN, YOU FUCKING COWARDS! KILL ME, SEE IF I CARE!"
Shanara doesn't wait for any reply. She doesn't wait for another arrow to hit her, finally killing her. Looking up at the trees, she walks toward the body of a young girl. Her back to Shanara and her arms limply hanging by her upside down head. Her brown hair in a familiar braid and her ripped clothes covered in dirt and blood. Shanara's breath catches in her throat as she slowly walks around to face the dead girl.
"Charlotte."
The name comes out as whisper from Shanara's lips. Without thinking, she reaches up to stroke the young girl's hair, only to pull her hand back as if she'd been burnt when Shanara realises she can't reach her. Unable to look at the thirteen year old's purple, bloodied body anymore, she covers her eyes with her hands. The whole camp watches as painful sobs escape her, the sound hitting everyones hearts, making even those who do not like Shanara, teary eyed. Mourning the loss of her friend, she drops to her knees, unable to stand any longer. One by one, the remaining kids on the dropship inch outside when it is clear there are no Grounders there to finish them all off. Those who notice their close friends dangling from the trees, approach the bodies, screaming and crying. Charlotte's own young friends walk up to Shanara, wrapping their arms around her shaking shoulders, their tears falling on her torn, dirty, bloodied lab coat.
All twelve bodies are buried by late afternoon, including Thalia, who's body was found charred under the melted material of what used to be the infirmary tent. No one found the medical supplies, or any evidence that they burned in the countless fires. Shanara doesn't care about their supplies though. She doesn't give one shit, not at the moment, not when everything is so fucked.
One hundred delinquents were sent down to Earth on the dropship. One died when they crash landed, leaving ninety-nine. Twelve fatalities mean there are now only eighty-seven of them alive, fighting for life. Shanara, Wells and Graham did the math. All of them are accounted for, all except one. There were only eighty-six standing in the clearing when Graham took the first count. A mistake he thought, but they all knew who was missing. Clarke. Shanara refuses to contemplate the possibility of Clarke's death when so many are assuming she's gone for good. They've been looking everywhere, but she's nowhere to be found. That doesn't mean she's dead, not to Shanara. She still has hope, it's the only thing keeping her sane.
Starving and exhausted, Shanara returns to the dropship to check up on Jasper. His condition continues to worsen but he still has a heartbeat, so Shanara will not give up on him. Using her stethoscope to check his breathing once more, she places it back in her pocket and leans against his makeshift bed. Monty is asleep on the floor next to him and Shanara can't help but yawn when she looks at his sleeping form. Sitting in one of the loose chairs next to Jasper, she lays her head down on the bottom of his bed, the pain in her leg and shoulder making her sleep uncomfortable.
She wakes a few hours later, the sun almost gone, replaced by a darkening sky. Her shoulder is excruciating and her whole body is stiff. Glancing around the metal ship, she notices many asleep on the floor. Wanting to check Jasper's heart and lungs again, Shanara reaches into the pocket of her lab coat. She feels the familiar metal of her stethoscope, but pulls out a loose piece of fabric. Unfolding the small piece of cream coloured material, Shanara realises that there are words written on it. Walking over to the entrance of the dropship to get better lighting, she clenches her jaw as she reads the note written in some sort of black ash.
Where we found container. Find me. Tell no one. Trust me. - Clarke
Shoving the material back in her pocket, Shanara exits the dropship in a hurry. Looking around camp, she notices quite a few gathered around the fire in the centre of camp. She also counts five guarding the perimeter of the clearing, guns in hand. Using the darkness to her advantage, she edges her way around the back of the dropship. Leaning up against its furthest outer wall, she waits until the boy closest to her turns his gaze in the opposite direction. Taking her opportunity, Shanara rushes through the trees best she can with the wound on her leg. Hearing a raised voice from the camp, she hides behind a thick tree and catches her breath. Waiting until it dies down, Shanara stubbles around in the darkness hoping that she's heading in the direction of the sight where Clarke and her had found the container of medical supplies their first night on Earth.
Shanara stops walking after a few minutes. She spins, trying to see anything familiar. All she can see is darkness and the silhouette of trees. She closes her eyes and actually thinks for a second. She rushed out of camp so quickly she didn't even allow herself time to think. If she had, she might not have even entered these woods. How did the note get into her pocket in the first place? What if it isn't even from Clarke? The biting wind makes Shanara shiver. Opening her eyes, she contemplates turning back. Tears suddenly fall from her eyes, the realisation of their wretched situation finally hitting her. As she continues to look at the trees, her mind tricks her. She gasps and stubbles back when Shanara notices bodies hanging from the tress, staring at her. Closing her eyes, she shakes her head. Peaking at her surroundings once more, she finds nothing there but darkness.
"Fuck," the words escape her mouth as she shivers again. Not knowing what else to do, she says something, "Clarke? Are you he-"
Someone grabs Shanara from behind. A thick piece of material is tied around her mouth which silences her screams, and another piece is tied around her eyes. All Shanara can feel are rough, hard hands on her body, pushing her forward. She fights best she can but it's no use against whomever is forcing her toward a unknown destination. Her assailants seem to tire of her continuous struggle then, because instead of dragging her along with them they simply lift her up and carry her. After a short while, they all come to a stop and Shanara shouts in pain as she's thrown onto something solid and made to straddle it, the wound on her leg screaming at her as someone sits behind her, their large frame keeping her confined. Moving her feet slightly, she can no longer feel the ground and for some reason she feels as though she's floating. Before long, she's uncontrollably shifting side to side as whatever she was thrown onto starts to move.
Shanara continues to struggle against the solid hands holding her in place. The gag in her mouth almost chokes her as she cries out in pain and frustration as the wound on her shoulder bleeds through her dirty lab coat. She kicks and screams as she's lifted off of the moving vassal she was placed on. Now she's forced to limp forward as she's dragged by the cloth that binds her hands together, as if the metal handcuff still dangling off of her wrist weren't bad enough. She curses the blindfold that obstructs her view. She curses the gag that muffles her shouts. She curses the people that took her, while also blaming herself for being so stupid. She has no idea if the note really was from Clarke, but she still took off, following every word on that piece of cloth in a heartbeat. But what if it was Clarke? What would have happened had she not followed the instructions left for her? Somewhere deep down, Shanara knows she's done the right thing.
As she contemplates every decision she's ever made, her ears are assaulted with the loud noise of talking, although not in English. A continues stream of voices swirl around her, accompanied by the sound of walking and the smell of smoke. But before long, she's tripping down some steps and her gag is being removed. The hands holding her in place vanish, and then the blindfold around her eyes is gone. Shanara doesn't even bother looking around at her surroundings, all she wants is to hit the people who took her. She can feel their presence behind her, and she knows she might regret her actions but she doesn't care. With lightning fast reflexes, she turns to the closest of her two assailants and grabs him by the fur at his neck. Shanara then head-butts him rather satisfyingly before she's pulled off of him and thrown to the dirty floor.
She's overjoyed when she hears him grunt in pain, but then both of the Grounders stalk over to her as she glares at them from the floor. She's about to get to her feet when a voice calls out from the other side of the dark room.
"WAIT-" it's almost a plea. "She can't help anyone if she's hurt! Don't you want to save your Second? She's the only one that can, do you really want to risk it?"
"Clarke?" Shanara looks up from the floor. Her blonde friend looks down at her from behind a table with a young girl on it. "Are you okay?"
The two giants stop short, only a couple inches away from the bleeding doctor. They're looking almost expectantly at a young woman, maybe in her late twenties, with high cheek bones and black paint around her eyes. She looks down at Shanara in distain as she takes a step closer, her hand on a large knife at her side.
"You are the healer." Her voice is deep and full of authority. She oddly looks familiar, yet Shanara can't remember why.
"I am Dr Shanara Preston," she answers, slowly getting to her feet.
After a moment of silent contemplation, the woman looks at both her men and shakes her head. They instantly back off and Clarke comes running to her friend. She unbinds her hands and Shanara cradles her shoulder as the bleeding continues. Clarke places her hand on top of Shanara's and applies more pressure to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Come on," she takes Shanara to the girl lying unconscious on the table. She notices two containers of medicine hiding behind the table as Clarke guides her to the girl. "What happened to you?"
"I was shot with an arrow. Twice," she throws a dirty glance at the Grounders. "There wasn't enough medical supplies on the dropship to close both wounds up. I thought they all burned up in the fire with the infirmary tent. Clarke, we thought you died. What the fuck happened to you?"
"It's a long story," she peels back Shanara's lab coat and top, revealing the wound. "We don't have time right now. We have to clean and close this wound and then you have to look at that girl on the table."
"Who is she?" Shanara asks, glancing at her. She reels in horror as she realises she's only a young child, no older than twelve or thirteen.
"That woman over there is called Anya. She's the leader of these people. That girl is her Second, her name is Tris," Clarke says quickly, digging through the containers for what she's looking for. "I know you have a lot of questions but there's no time, I'll answer them later."
Shanara muffles a scream as Clarke cleans her wound and begins stitching it up. As she breathes through the pain, she looks around the damp, dark room. She notices five pairs of eyes looking at them, all weary and defensive. Now she has the opportunity to really look at them since she isn't running for her life, this time. The four men are built and tall, Anya too looks like she could take any of them on. Their gaze is intense, a little too much for Shanara right now. Under the flecks of dirt, blood and black paint they have layered on their faces, there are strong and prominent facial features. They're covered in black clothing lined with fur and an assortment of what she can only hope are animal bones, decorate their thick coats and boots. Shanara never knew what she was expecting them to look like, but for some reason she didn't think Grounders would look so human.
A broken whisper escapes Clarke as she finishes the stitches, "What happened to Thalia?"
Shanara can't meet her friend's eyes for a moment, but Clarke deserves to know. The Grounders watch their sad exchange intently. "She died, Clarke," Shanara tells her quietly. "I'm so sorry."
Clarke doesn't look at her, but continues on with her work. "Were there others?"
"Charlotte...Twelve fatalities in total," she manages to answer, but she doesn't elaborate. Shanara doesn't explain how they were found. The memory still fresh in her mind, she glares at the Grounders that surround her. Her eyes threaten tears as she relives the sight over and over in her head. Their bodies hanging from the trees. All five of the Grounders look at Shanara, their eyes unblinking. The young doctor writhes in silent anger as they continue to stand there saying nothing. Her gaze turns to hate as everything she has felt over the last couple of days, everything she held tight and kept bottled up, shatters inside her.
"Shanara?" Clarke notices her as she places the lab coat back on her shoulder.
"You monsters," Shanara spits at them. Clarke holds her back at the waist as she rushes forward. The Grounders step forward to protect their leader, pulling their swards and axes from their sheathes. Anya lifts her chin, unapologetic. The action angers Shanara tenfold. "You know what you fucking did, you piece of-"
"Shanara," Clarke shakes her.
Clarke catches her eye and she pleads with her. Shanara suddenly then notices the dark bags under the blonde's eyes, and the purple bruise on her neck. The rage boiling inside of her slowly bubbles down as her friend slowly shakes her head, her eyes tired and her frame ridged. There is no curiosity in her eyes, she doesn't ask what Shanara is obviously dishevelled over. Clarke doesn't want to know, at least not now. Shanara wonders what she's had to endure while being held captive in this hole of a place, although her injuries paint a vivid enough picture for her. Clarke could lose control just like Shanara had but she hasn't, so the least Shanara can do is hold it together for now.
After a deep breath, the young doctor calms herself and they both walk over to the girl unconscienced on the table top. Shanara notices a tube in her side and a bandage over a wound on her abdomen. Taking out the stethoscope that is, by some miracle, still in the pocket of her lab coat after her rough journey to wherever they are now, Shanara conducts a brief examination. Anya takes a step closer to the doctor as she puts the eartips in her ears and places the stethoscope's diaphragm on Tris's chest, although she slowly backs away after realising it is not a weapon. Shanara makes eye contact with Anya as she says something to the other men in the room in an alien language. Shanara listens to Tris's heart and lungs while asking Clarke the relevant questions like she did when they were on the medical deck up in the Colony.
"Walk me through it, Griffin. Patient status and your diagnosis."
"Bullet, single entrance wound between the ninth and tenth intercostal spaces. Respiratory functions were failing because of hemopneumothorax. I inserted a chest tube and vitals returned to normal until a few hours ago. Her heart rate is now around 110 per minute and her breathing is around 25 breathes per minute."
"But her lungs sound clear which would mean?" Shanara quizzes Clarke, much like she did on the Colony when the medical apprentices would shadow the doctors. Experience is the best form of teaching.
"Possible infection or organ failure," Clarke answers obediently.
"Did you attempt to take out the bullet?"
"I did," Clarke answers truthfully. "But, I couldn't... I can't... I need your help, I don't have enough experience with surgery."
"What would you advise for a course of treatment?"
"Leave the chest tube in until her lung re-expands. Open her up, take out the bullet and assess the situation. We can't leave it in there."
"Correct," Shanara answers, taking a step back. She places her stethoscope around her neck. She breathes in and out deeply, running through all the possible scenarios. No child deserves to die, but Shanara can't think of any way to save her. "But I can't operate on her, Clarke," Shanara tells her, her voice full of guilt. "There's just no way, not in these circumstances."
There is no way any doctor could contemplate opening this child up in a room such as this, without the proper medical equipment. It was hard enough to preform the surgery on Thalia, and they almost lost her several times during the procedure. But at least then they were in a tent which was somewhat sterile and they had much more medicine at the time, which is entirely different to now.
"Shanara, we have to."
"Even if we did, we both know the prognosis. Look at this place, Clarke. It isn't sterile, the bacteria alone would-" Shanara stops herself. This is Clarke Griffin, daughter of the Colony's Chief of Medicine, once a medical student herself. "You already know why we can't operate."
"You will save her," Anya says suddenly. "Or you both die."
"Look," Shanara turns to Anya angrily, entirely fed up of being threatened. "What the hell do you want me to do? This girl doesn't deserve to die but I can't help her. This room is no where near sterile enough to preform an open chest surgery or any sort of surgery, for that matter. There isn't enough medication to maybe even sedate her, let alone enough to preform a difficult surgery. We don't have the right equipment nor do I have enough medical staff to help me. I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker."
The Grounders step closer, their weapons up and a growl on their face. They obviously do not like Shanara's answer, nor her attitude toward their leader. For a brief second, Shanara prepares herself to be tortured or killed or both.
"Isn't that what my mom told you up on the Colony?"
Shanara looks at Clarke, a little shock and hurt on her face. Anya stops the Grounders from advancing when she notices Shanara's facial expression change.
"That's not fair, Clarke," Shanara says, her jaw clenched and her eyes wide. "This is not the same."
"Is it not?" Clarke replies. "You have two choices, just like you did up on the Colony. You can follow procedure and let Tris die or you can do the right thing. Up on the Colony, my mom decided to follow procedure but you did the right thing, you saved that little girl. You sacrificed your life for Josie. You said yourself that you never want to see an innocent life go to waste again. Don't let that happen to Tris."
Shanara knows Clarke is right. This will haunt her forever if she does nothing. It's worth a chance.
"Fuck," she says aloud. "Clarke, help me prepare her for surgery."
In an instant, the room's atmosphere changes. The Grounders are both sceptical of the strangers from the sky and intrigued by their unfamiliar medical knowledge. Shanara and Clarke work as a team, forgetting their possible impending doom and the intimidating Grounders constantly watching them. Tearing the lid off of one of the containers, they use it to collect and arrange everything they need.
"Are there any other doctors?" Shanara asks Anya.
"Healers," Clarke corrects. "And no, he's dead."
"What about someone with some sort of medical experience?" Shanara asks. "Anyone who maybe has some heeling experience or someone that cares for the sick? I need more than one person to help me with this surgery."
After a moment, Anya turns to one of her men and says something to him in their language. Shanara finds that somewhat hopeful so she continues preparing the girl. As Clarke disinfects the only surgical tools they were sent down to Earth with, Shanara conducts a more thorough examination of Tris. She notices small patches of discoloured skin around the incision on her side. The abnormal breathing pattern. Her quick heartrate. The beads of sweat falling from her skin yet she's cold to the touch. She takes in their surroundings and closes her eyes, cursing the damp, dark, bacteria infested area.
"Clarke," Shanara turns to her slowly, the realisation of Tris's condition hitting her like a slap in the face. "She's septic."
Clarke pauses, a scalpel and gauze in her hands. They both understand the prognosis of septicaemia and they both know that they have to work quickly and effectively, otherwise Tris will die. Running over to both containers of medical supplies, Shanara searches fervently for what she needs to treat Tris.
"Septic?" Anya repeats the word as she steps forward, a crease between her eyebrows and a hand on her sword.
"Her blood has been poisoned," Clarke elaborates as a girl maybe around Shanara's age enters through the door holding a long piece of wood with fire at its end.
The light illuminates the room as she approaches the young doctor still crouched on the floor looking through the medical supplies. Shanara looks up at her as the girl's wide eyes search hers. She glances at the medicine in the boxes but doesn't say anything. A thick piece of material is tied around her head, keeping her light brown hair away from her eyes. Detailed drawings decorates the top of her right arm, Shanara assumes they are what she once read about in a book; tattoos. Her clothing is all black and very sparse, unlike those who continue to watch Shanara and Clarke at the other end of the room.
"It's a type of bacteria that's poisoning her. It's entered Tris's bloodstream and it's shutting her body down, organ by organ," Shanara continues to explain to Anya while she looks at the girl. "What's your name?"
After a moment, she answers, "Lexa."
"Here," Shanara places vials and syringes in her once free hand. "Can you put these on the table, please?"
With a brisk nod, Lexa does as asked. Shanara watches as the strange girl finishes her task and hands the fire off to Anya. Lexa says something to here, her head low and seemingly obedient. Anya simply answers with a nod. Shanara turns her head away then as her scepticism calms and she's reminded of the impending surgery that Tris needs to be prepped for. After another moment, Clarke and Shanara join Lexa by the table with Tris unconscious on it, all the necessary surgical equipment neatly placed together by the young doctor, sterilised as best as possible.
"Okay," Shanara sighs, closing her eyes. She forgets about what has transpired over this last week. She forgets about the pain radiating from her shoulder and her leg. She remembers everything they taught her up on the Colony. Clearing her mind, she continuously nods to herself. She can do this.
"What do we have left to disinfect out hands?" Shanara asks Clarke.
"Isopropyl alcohol," Clarke reaches for the bottle.
Shanara rolls her sleeves up as high as they go before Clarke carefully pours the alcohol over Shanara's hands and arms. Straight after, she slips her hands into a pair of surgical gloves and places one of the few surgical masks left over her mouth and nose. Shanara indicates to Lexa that she need do the same. She seems suspicious at first but soon her skin has been disinfected and she slips the gloves over her hand and a mask on her face. A moment later, Clarke too is ready, gloved and masked.
"I need some light over here," Shanara looks around at her audience.
"Torches," Anya barks.
Two Grounders grab hold of what they call a torch; lit wooden sticks that hang from the walls. As they near Shanara, the fire illuminates Tris's pale features and then her bullet wound.
"That's close enough. Thank you," Shanara tells them.
One of the Grounders places himself beside the young doctor, torch in hand, his eyes narrowed and sceptical. The other stands stoic beside Lexa, his hands wrapped around another torch which illuminates the dark room, his eyes darting from Lexa to Tris. However, Shanara is too preoccupied to notice the strange glances being thrown around the room and the strong expression on Lexa's face, hidden under he surgical mask.
When she's finally pulled herself together, Shanara looks up at her friend, Clarke, "Ready?"
Her eyes bore into Shanara's before she answers, "Yes."
"Lexa?" She asks then, to which the young girl nods in reply.
"Iodopovidone," Shanara disinfects Tris's entrance wound and its surrounding area. "Scalpel," Clarke hands her the surgical tool. Pausing to take a breath, the young doctor makes the incision in Tris's abdomen.
The Grounders shift their weight as they watch Shanara cut Anya's Second with the blade, as Clarke packs gauze around the wound to stop the profuse bleeding. Shanara has Lexa hold both sides of the incision wide open so that she can use both hands to properly do her job. As she begins to evaluate Tris's condition, the room becomes warm as the tension begins to build. These Grounders have seen plenty of blood before and they aren't thrown off by the sight of internal organs either since they're exposed to it all from such a young age, but watching a complete stranger, their supposed enemy, cut open and poke around in one of their people, and using alien vocabulary, tools and medication, both angers and intrigues them. For all they know, Shanara and Clarke could be killing Tris. For all Shanara and Clarke know, these Grounders will kill them no matter the outcome of the surgery.
"I see the bullet," Shanara informs everyone after a small while.
Clarke hands Shanara the surgical tweezers without having to even ask for them and she takes them thankfully, silently commenting on how well Clarke took her medical training up on the Colony. Carefully using the metal tools to narrowly avoid Tris's ribs and inspect the damage made by the bullet, Shanara notices how it is tightly lodged close to the spleen and dangerously close to the aorta, but it doesn't seem as though it has impacted either. Her only option is to pull it out, which she does, dropping the metal round in Clarke's gloved hand. The Grounders stare at the small, strange object that caused so much damage to one of their own.
"Oh, fuck-"
All their attention snaps back to Shanara as the loud, frantic words escape her mouth. Within seconds, Clarke and herself are packing gauze into Tris's open abdomen to try and control the profuse bleeding.
"What have you done?" Anya accuses the young doctor. They all crowd around the makeshift surgical table within seconds and Shanara tries not to lose it then and there.
"Back off! I need this space."
Slowly but surely, Anya and the other idle Grounders make their way back to where they were originally standing, their hands now on their weapons. Shanara isn't entirely sure what made them adhere to her words, maybe it was her tone of voice or her wild but determined facial expression, either way, she's silently thankful.
"I need more light," Shanara says then, still packing what gauze they have left into Tris's open incision. Bending down into a strange angle, Shanara peels back what bloody gauze she can in attempt to see what exactly is making Tris bleed profusely. Knowing that this quick blood loss is slowly killing this young child, Shanara prays that she's able to find a solution.
"The bullet tore the spleen," Shanara exclaims as soon as she notices the life threatening problem.
"You can take it out," Clarke suggests knowing full well that it is a viable option.
It is an option but not one Shanara is comfortable in fulfilling. The spleen plays a crucial role in the body's ability to fight off bacteria, living without the organ makes you more likely to develop infections. Tris's quality of life would be fatally effected if Shanara were to remove it. Up on the Colony, Tris would probably have a very good chance at a long and happy life because of the advanced medical supplies and equipment readily available, but down on Earth, her chances are slim. Since it is only a tear and not a rupture, Shanara's other option is to try and repair the damage. Uncommon, not impossible but still incredibly risky.
With only a moment to choose between these two options, Shanara goes with her gut and chooses the later.
"I'm going to repair the spleen," the young doctor informs Clarke. Whatever opinion she has on the matter, Clarke decides to put it aside and encouragingly nod instead, noticing how hard Shanara is trying to hide the worried expression that is slowly seeping onto her features.
"Do we have any synthetic thread?" Shanara asks, still applying pressure to the bleeding organ.
Running over to the medical supply containers, Clarke retrieves the synthetic thread they have left. Looping it through a sterile needle, she hands it to Shanara with a needle holder.
"Lexa," Shanara motions for the girl to stand next to her. "Take one of your hands and continue to apply pressure here. When I tell you, lift the gauze."
Nodding, Lexa does as she's told. Her eyes dart all over Tris's bloody stomach. Still sceptical, she glances at Shanara and Clarke and notices their hard expressions. The determination in their eyes is clear and for the first time since their meeting, Lexa doesn't feel as thought these Sky People are their enemy.
"Now," Shanara says after a short pause. Working quickly, with Clarke still trying to control the bleeding with one hand and moving Tris's stomach out of the way with the other, Shanara attempts to stitch the small but dangerous tear. A small amount of blood makes its way onto her face, annoyingly close to her eye. Releasing a string of curse words, Shanara finds it very difficult to get the needle neatly through the organ's surface. Anya takes a step closer, her breathing getting quicker. The small room fills with the sound of heavy breathing and the young doctor's frustrated words as she feels Tris's heart begin to die.
"She needs a transfusion," Clarke says, knowing full well that Tris will not survive without one.
Shanara can only nod is agreement, finally getting the needle through the spleen's tissue. "More gauze, the blood... I can't see-"
"Does Tris have any brothers or sisters?" Clarke asks the room, to which no one answers.
"Why?" Lexa replies, quietly.
Still balancing Tris's stomach in one of her hands and packing more gauze like Shanara asked, Clarke answers, "Tris has lost a lot of blood. Even if Shanara manages to repair the tear, her chances of survival are slim because of her significant blood loss. She needs a blood transfusion. It's a procedure that will replace the blood she's lost."
"Why do you need a brother or sister?" Lexa asks then, her eyes wide.
"Everyone has a blood type," Clarke explains quickly but clearly. "We don't know Tris's blood type. If we just give her some random person's blood and they don't have the same blood type, it could be fatal. If we give her a parent's blood, there's still only a fifty percent chance that it is a match. A sibling's blood is the best chance at a blood type match."
Anya eventually turns to one of her men and she speaks to him in their language. The Grounder strides out of the room, returning when Shanara has almost finished stitching up Tris's spleen, a young man close behind him. Once he recognises the young girl lying open on the table, a shout escapes his body and then he lunges for the young doctor. He's held back as Anya shouts at him, asserting her authority. Shanara finishes the last stitch, fully repairing the tear as best she can and not letting the commotion at the other end of the room shake her concentration.
"Lexa, can I have that tool right there," Shanara points at the scissors by Clarke.
She cuts the thread and stands up right, taking a moment to closes her eyes and leave a long breath escape her tense body. Putting the surgical tools aside, Shanara's shoulder screams at her in pain as she takes the other organs from Clarke's hands and places them back where they are supposed to be. Taking out her stethoscope, she listens to Tris's heart as presumably her brother, walks over to them. Anya says something to him in their language once again and he turns to both Clarke and Shanara, his nostrils flaring and his eyes filled with a sort of hatred. Shanara notes how similar they look, he and the child on the table. The same nose and high cheekbones, the same shade of hair. His left cheek has a gash on it, and for such a young man in maybe his early twenties, Shanara is sure that he's already been exposed to too much trauma, much like his poor sister. Charlotte's face then flashes before Shanara's eyes and her pity is now replaced with hostility.
"She needs that transfusion now," Shanara remarks as she takes the stethoscope out of her ears and places it around her neck.
After Clarke retrieves surgical tubing and needles, she asks for the young man's arm. For a moment, she worries he won't comply but then he shrugs off his thick coat and juts his arm toward her. Cautiously, she begins to find the young man's vain. After successfully doing so, Clarke inserts the other end into Tris's arm. While she does that, Shanara inspects the girl's organs and ensures everything is in order. She has Lexa help her take out the gauze when her world begins to tilt.
"Shit."
"What is it?" Lexa asks.
"Clarke," Shanara manages to utter. "Take... Take the surgical tools from my hands."
The whole room suddenly becomes hostile. Clarke quickly takes the metal tools from the young doctor's bloody, gloved hands as she starts to take shaky steps backwards. The dark space goes in and out of focus as her back hits a wall. Finding it hard to breathe, Shanara bends over and puts her hands on her knees.
"I..."
"Shanara?"
"What is happening to her?" Anya steps forward, a hand on her sword.
"I lost a lot of blood..." Shanara manages to answer. The world blurs as she finds it hard to keep herself up right, "...from the arrows. I've been on...my feet. I'm... I'm going to pass out... Shit."
Leaning all her weight against the wall, she closes her eyes and wills herself to stay conscious. There is no way that she is leaving Clarke by herself with all these dangerous strangers.
"Clarke," Shanara struggles to breathe. "You have to finish the...surgery. You...have to close Tris up."
"Okay," Clarke assures her. "She needs air," she turns to Anya then, her eyes wild and pleading.
"Fuck this-"
Stumbling about, Shanara manages to make it to the room's entrance. Her world continues to blur, her vison filled with white dots. Her chest tightens after every step that she makes. She claws at the walls as her body begins to collapse. Her shoulder and leg scream at her in pain, throbbing with a firry passion. She shouts at the heaping Grounder keeping her from the outside world. Shanara hears a spattering of words behind her and then suddenly she's falling up the stairs and out into the day.
Using her arm to shield herself from the blinding daylight, the young doctor falls helplessly to her knees. Her hair falls over her shoulders as she rips the surgical mask off her face and takes hurried, deep breath. Shanara drags at her lab coat as beads of sweat fall from her face. The unfocused world around her slowly starts to fade back into reality. The white spots in her vison disappear and the weight on her chest begins to lift. Shanara's hands tingle as she regains her strength, one painful second at a time. As her breathing returns to normal and the her mind finally clears, she lifts her head and is confronted by her surroundings.
Small huts and large fires surround her. The familiar smell of blood is prevalent, as well as the smell of roasting meat and dirt. Hulking shadows decorate the wooden landscape, fiercely dressed in thick, dark clothing. The small army of Grounders stop what they are doing once their eyes land on the strange Sky girl covered in blood. Their hands find their weapons and their facial expressions quickly change from that of shock to something dangerous. Before they have time to act though, and before Shanara really has time to react to this new world she's stumbled into, someone grabs her by her injured arm and she's shoved back into the room from which she just came.
"Ah, let go of me-"
Shanara manages to escape the Grounder's grasp and she wearily makes her way back to Clarke, who is finishing the last stitch on Tris's abdomen. Removing her now dirty gloves, she places the surgical mask back over her mouth and nose as she inspects Clarke's work. The stitches are perfect, just like Shanara knew they would be. After giving her an approving nod, Shanara goes to the medical supplies and finds the antibiotics needed to treat septicaemia. Looking at the two vials she's found, she frowns. If she had her way, she'd use a different type of antibiotic but it is the only viable option they have down on Earth. Clarke stops the transfusion between Tris and her brother once Shanara approaches the table again, and Clarke then hands Shanara a syringe. Taking exactly 10ml from the vial, the young doctor gives Tris the antibiotics intravenously, directly into the vein.
Sighing, Sharna takes a couple steps back. Clarke does the same only a moment later and she crosses her arms as they both stare the young girl they miraculously just saved. They look at each other and nod knowingly. The Grounders glance curiously between the two Sky girls and wonder if this is apart of the procedure. After a moment, Lexa takes a step back too, removing her gloves and mask. The Grounders carrying the fire retreat obediently once they see Lexa doing so, along with Tris' brother. If Shanara and Clarke wasn't so tired, they might have noticed, but they don't.
A long silence fills the room.
Anya is the first to speak, "What now?"
"The only thing we can do is wait," Shanara tells them all, her mask muffling her tired words. Glancing at Clarke, "She needs fluids."
"There are only two bags of IV fluids left," Clarke answers from across the table. "They're not going to be enough."
"There's only 90ml of antibiotics left too. All we can do is hope the septicaemia isn't severe enough for her to need more medication," Shanara informs Clarke.
"I wish we had more of...everything," Clarke says then, hiding her sad expression behind her surgical mask. "I wish we had monitors, better equipment, more medication, a sterile room."
"All we can do is work with what we have," Shanara says disappointedly, wringing her stethoscope through her hands.
They glance at each other for a moment longer before they set off to do their separate tasks. Clarke grabs the IV fluids while Shanara listens to Tris' heart and lungs again. All the Grounders can do is watch and listen curiously as the Sky girls exchange strange words as if they were the only two in the room.