Clarke was perched in a tree top, just surrounding the clearing the penal colony had claimed as their own.

She could hardly see Madi, hidden in a tree directly behind the ship, across from Clarke's own vantage point.

The penal colony were scrupulous, but their naivety with the ground showed. Though they were used to receiving orders, and their commander was used to giving them, they weren't used to the ground. That much was clear. It was a much different Earth than they had left, over a hundred years ago.

Or perhaps Clarke and Madi were too familiar with the ground. Or what was left of it: their Eden, as they called it.

It'd been five days since she'd seen Bellamy & the delinquents. Five days since she'd see the dead raised from their graves and walk before her.

Part of her still couldn't believe they were alive, even as she waited for a glimpse of them.

She'd spent years trying to reach them, years trying to configure the radio to reach them - to reach anyone, above ground or below it.

She'd only received silence from both.

Nonetheless, everyday, she tried to contact them. Mainly the Ark, of which the radio was for.

Everyday she found herself talking to them, all of them, but slowly, as the days went on, her messages were only for one person.

Bellamy.

It had taken her quite a while to realize that the point of her messages was to contact him. That the point of her trying to contact them, while she was alone, was to hear his opinion, was to hear his advice, was to hear his voice.

It had taken her a long time to heal from Lexa's death. She had loved her, she couldn't deny it. Though Lexa had betrayed her, though Lexa and her had argued, though Lexa and her sought different paths; she had loved her.

But before she had a chance to recover, the earth was dying. She never had a moment to grieve.

It wasn't until she was alone - utterly alone - on Earth, that she was able to grieve, to be angry, to accept it.

And then, through all the radio calls that were left unanswered, she realized who she was yearning for, and what that meant.

Bellamy... he was the only one who understood. Since the beginning, he'd been there with her, as a leader, though they had their differences, he'd pulled the lever with her, he'd lead their people to salvation with her.

She'd never had time to realize what he meant to her, until he was gone. Until she was a head without a heart.

And now, as she sat in a tree top, rifle snuggled agaisnt her shoulder, she struggled to keep her mind on the plan.

Over the past five days, the delinquents had been put to work, often separated. But Bellamy was no where to be seen. Clarke didn't worry though, she knew he was alive, probably getting his brain picked clean by the commander.

The men and women were ordered to hunt, patrol, and set up camp. Though they kept watch, it was clear they weren't expecting anyone else.

Aside from Clarke and Madi, the colony thought they were alone on the planet they had left when it held 7 billion lives.

It was the patrol Clarke was waiting for. Everyday, just after daybreak, five scouts took a delinquent, clad in manacles, and made their way into the woods, armed to the teeth.

As the sun eased into the sky, painting the trees in soft yellows and pinks, the patrol strode down the main platform into the clearing.

Today's lucky delinquent: Murphy.

Clarke only smirked and signaled Madi with a birdlike whistle, something they had perfected to help find each other while they went hunting. She slung the rifle across her back and descended the tree, careful not to shake the largest branches.

Once on the ground, she noticed Madi out of the corner of her eye, twenty feet to her eye. Clarke nodded, and the two went on their pursuit.


The patrol was made up of three hulking women, and two men the same size. They were clumsy on the ground, crunch leaves and tripping over rocks, all the while clutching rifles in their calloused hands.

Clarke and Madi watched thirty feet away, hiding behind two trees. It was a struggle for Madi to hold in her laughter at the large, foolish guards as they explored the forest, but Clarke shushed her.

Murphy lagged behind them, disinterested and unamused. His footing was lazy as he trudged through the fallen leaves, being pulled behind a guard that held the leash to his manacles.

"I told you how many times now?" he said, annoyed, "I don't know this place. I don't know where we are."

The guard snarled and jerked the leash, causing Murphy to spill forward, barely able to remain upright. "Well ya better start knowing something soon," his captor spat, "else we're not gonna have any more need of ya."

Murphy only stared at him, anger clearly boiling beneath his pale skin. His cheeks were hollow now, and his collarbones protruded awkwardly from his low cut shirt.

Clarke figured it was as good a time as any.

She nodded at Madi, and the two danced between tree to tree, feet light as they closed in on their targets.

The approached from behind, closest to Murphy. The fools hadn't even assigned someone to guard their rear.

The first shots were all too easy. One bullet straight through a back, the second, a neck. Two bodies fell as Madi's victim collapsed into a heap of leaves.

The other two guards wirled, rifles eye level, fear written on their faces. Two women, both in their thirties.

"Guns down." Clarke commanded, letting her eyes flicker toward Murphy, who stood with his chained arms raised slightly, a smile pulling at his lips.

The women hesitated, both stealing a glance at the other.

In a second, a shot barreled through the air, hitting the tree next to wear Madi stood, and in the next second, both women were heaps on the ground.

Clarke released the trigger and lowered her rifle, glancing up at Murphy, who starred at her with his usual smirk. Six years and it hadn't changed.

His hair was shorter, shaved at the sides and longer on top, but aside from the thinness, he didn't look much different than what she remembered.

"It's about damn time," he smiled.


Once they had returned to the rover and successfully removed Murphy's manacles, they could finally talk. The three of them surrounded the back of the truck, with Madi perched inside the bed, stealing glances at Murphy in some starstruck wonder.

"We have to save Emori," he said flatly, rubbing his newly freed wrists. When neither Clarke nor Madi responded he added, "and the rest of them, too."

"Of course," Clarke nodded, that's our plan."

Murphy raised his eyebrow. "And also, who the hell is this?" he jerked his head toward Madi.

Clarke and Madi exchanged looks. "Turns out I wasn't the only Nightblood left," Clarke shrugged.

Murphy ran a hand through his hair, "so, two people survived the raging flames of hell and lived to tell about it? Damn, Clarke," he shook his head. "We thought you were dead. Well, we knew you were dead."

Clarke's eyes went soft as she said, "we're still breathing, aren't we?" and she smiled at her ward.

"And a smiling Clarke..." Murphy trailed off, "that's also new..."

Clarke rolled her eyes, "that's not important," she said, itching to ask him about Bellamy. "What's important is that we figure out how to rescue them."

Murphy crossed his eyebrows, "I thought you said you had a plan."

"Well we do," Madi interjected, "...kinda."

"Kinda," Murphy repeated and looked to Clarke.

"We can rescue them, all of them, with the help of the bunker," Clarke explained.

Murphy nodded and rolled up his sleeves, "okay, great. Where are they?"

Madi looked to the ground while Clarke sighed, "that's the problem... they are still in the bunker."

Murphy cocked his head in confusion. "In the bunker..." he trailed off.

"Underground," Clarke finished.

Murphy nearly choked, "they are STILL in the bunker?"

"Well, you were still in space," Madi mumbled under her breath.

"We can get them out," Clarke reassured him, "we just need tools... mining tools."

"You can't be serious," Murphy shook his head.

"I am," she said firmly, feeling like her old self again. "That ship was built for mining. There has to be some tools on it we can use to free everyone in the bunker."

Murphy kept shaking his head, looking disgusted. "Yeah. I've seen those tools." He ripped up his sleeve and revealed a garish, mess of a scar that ran form his inner elbow to wrist, twisting and jagged.

"But i've only seen them used on humans," he said.