She woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open while her brain worked hard at trying to figure out exactly where she was.

For Clarke, the sensation was both disorienting and disturbingly familiar.

It had happened once before, this feeling of unknowing. But that time, she'd awoken to bright lights and white walls, and everything she was wearing had been strangely new and clean.

This time was different. This time, she'd woken to such utter darkness that she couldn't make out her hand in front of her, or see the bed beneath her. Or the walls she knew must be enclosing her.

Then Clarke shifted her head just a little, and a wave of dizziness swept over her. She tried to hold it back, tried to stay awake, but the blackness engulfed her and she slipped away again.

When she woke next, the gray light of early morning was streaming in through a window set high in the wall on the opposite side of the room. She turned her head slowly, experimentally, and was relieved when the faintness didn't return.

Lying still on the bed, she felt all over herself, but couldn't find any part of her body that was tender to the touch, or anything that seemed like an injury. Nevertheless, she gingerly swung her legs around and off the bed, carefully placing her feet on the smooth wooden floor.

When Clarke looked down, she saw that she was still wearing the dress from the party. It was wrinkled now, the material's faint iridescence distorted by its use as sleepwear. She glanced around, noting that besides the bed, the only other things in the room were a small table and an even smaller wooden stool.

There was a pitcher and glass on the table, and Clarke poured out the water thankfully, drinking greedily. She supposed it could be drugged or otherwise contaminated, but it made little difference. She'd learned long ago that hydration was essential to the human body.

On the stool were clean garments, light drawstring pants and a loose shirt in the style worn daily by most Eligians. She stripped off the dress and used some of the water to hastily clean her face and body before slipping on the new clothes.

It was then that she realized there'd been no shoes in the little pile of clothes. No everyday sandals or boots, not even the dressy pumps she'd been wearing at the party.

Clarke shrugged. She'd gone barefoot before and she figured she could do it again. And footwear was far less important right at the moment than figuring out first, where she was, and second, how to get the hell away from there.

She'd barely started down that train of thought when she heard a sharp knock, followed immediately by the door opening.

"Ah, you're awake, Clarke," Gabriel said pleasantly. Just as though he hadn't drugged her and dragged her away from the party. Just like he hadn't fucking abducted her.

"What the hell, Gabriel! I might have been changing!"

He shrugged. "I can have a dozen attractive and willing women anytime I want. No need to spy on you."

"Great. I'm relieved to hear it," she said dryly. "Then you won't mind getting one of those willing women here right now so I can leave this place - wherever the hell it is - and go home."

"I'm hurt, Clarke," he said, his faint whining tone patently fake. "You don't seem to appreciate the honor I've bestowed in inviting you to my home."

His home? She hadn't expected that.

"Somehow this feels less like an invitation and more like coercion. If you have all these other willing women, what do you need with me?"

"Ah. Well. Although I must admit you really are quite something," his accompanying wink was a grotesque parody of flirtation, "that's not why you're here."

"It's... not."

"Sadly, no. While I certainly wouldn't mind spending several pleasant hours in bed with you, I'm more interested in what's going on inside you."

"Inside..."

"Really, Clarke," Gabriel clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I was sure you were cleverer than that."

And that's when it hit her. This was not some heavy-handed attempt at seduction by an egotistical lout. It was something altogether different. And far more sinister.

When her hands unconsciously folded over her abdomen, Gabriel smiled slyly.

"I do believe you've figured it out."

"If you do anything to hurt this baby, I'll kill you," she said immediately, surprising even herself.

Gabriel seemed momentarily taken aback, as though not quite believing she would actually threaten him. But he recovered quickly.

"Why would I want to harm the child, Clarke? When it's my ticket to the big prize."

Like a kaleidoscope, Clarke's perspective shifted again as she tried to absorb this new information.

"The big prize?"

"Why don't you come downstairs and have some food? I can explain it all to you. But you can rest assured that hurting the prophecy child - or its mother - is the last thing on my mind."

Clarke stared at him, trying to figure out if she would lose some psychological advantage by complying, but she understood that, as always, the most valuable thing she could acquire was information. Besides, she was hungry.

She nodded slowly. "Okay. As soon as I find my shoes."

Gabriel smiled patronizingly, his nostrils flaring in disdain.

"You won't be needing shoes while you're staying with me. Every floor is covered in the finest of materials. And as for you leaving the house?" He stared at her, his eyes as cold as ice. "That won't be happening."

XXXXXXXXXX

As far as she was concerned, his explanations began with the same kind of bullshit rationalizations that all arrogant would-be despots seemed to offer. The only things that ever changed were the details. And the longer he spoke, the clearer it became to Clarke that Gabriel's plans had been in the works for a long time.

Years.

"It's just the natural order of things, Clarke." The words rolled off his tongue with absolute conviction. "This colony, this city, was never meant to be governed by the mediocre masses. When I think of how much progress might have been made if only the right people had been in charge for the last half-century, it sickens me."

She nodded as though totally absorbed. "The right people?"

"Those who truly represent and understand the teachings of my great-uncle and my grandfather. The first Gabriel Cadogan."

Clarke nearly choked on her bread and fruit. How the hell had she not known that Gabriel was a Cadogan? Only years of self-control kept her from giving away how disturbed she was by this revelation.

"Teachings? Are you talking about Second Dawn? But... what about David? Surely he qualifies. I mean, isn't he a devout believer?"

"David!" His contempt was palpable. "David doesn't understand anything! He thinks that anyone can be a true disciple. Can be one of the chosen."

"But I thought that was how you all came to be on this planet. That you were all, uh, the chosen."

"Our ancestors were, yes. But it doesn't follow that everyone in the next generation - and the next - would be equally worthy. They're... good enough to be allowed to remain in the city, perhaps, but to let them all have a say in choosing who will guide them is utter folly." Gabriel shook his head. "That is better left to those who understand."

Clarke couldn't stop herself from asking. "Understand... what?"

A rapt smile lit his features. "Everything."

Okay, then.

"And Oriana?"

"Is... worthier than David. But she takes too much upon herself! She's the one who persuaded David to accept your people and I was forced to go along." He shrugged. "But at least, because of that, I found the answer to a question I've been asking myself for a while now."

"And what's that?" But Clarke was almost sure she already knew.

"That I can't wait any longer. That I need to act now."

Clarke pushed aside the empty fruit bowl and turned to face Gabriel directly.

"You're planning a coup." It wasn't a question. She'd known from almost his first words and saw no point in dancing around it.

He shrugged, his full lips twisting in a superior smile.

"You may call it that. I call it... fulfilling my destiny."

"But... can it possibly be successful? The city is well-guarded. I've seen the patrols everywhere."

"Ah." Gabriel indulged in a knowing smile. "But perhaps there's a fox in the henhouse."

"You've... bought off the guard?"

"Clarke, please! There's been no need for buying off, as you so crudely put it. There are others who believe as I do that those who are the true descendants of the chosen must be allowed to take charge. So that this city can reach its full potential."

"So... you control a few well-placed members of the guard and expect the rest will fall in line."

He gazed at her like a proud teacher applauding the acumen of a clever student. "Something like that."

Clarke nodded slowly. "What I don't understand is... where do I come in?"

Her question seemed to amuse him. "You can be startlingly direct, Clarke. But... I find I like that about you."

Clarke worked hard to suppress the nausea his approval induced in her.

"Sometimes it's the only way to find out what you need to know."

Gabriel was silent for a few moments, and she began to fear he wasn't going to answer her after all.

But then he shrugged.

"I can't see where it does any harm for you to know. You are my ace in the hole, Clarke. All the Eligians can talk about right now is the child of the prophecy. So if there is any reluctance on the part of the people to... go along with the regime change, I want it firmly understood that the child, and its mother, are on my side."

Clarke waited a beat.

"And if I refuse to go along with being the mascot in this little revolution of yours?"

That brought a laugh from Gabriel, but there was no mirth in his eyes.

"I think you'll find you have little choice in the matter. A lot of your people will be depending on my goodwill."

"And what makes you think someone won't come looking for me? Or at the very least wonder where I am."

"Someone like?"

"Like... my daughter, for instance."

"Ah, yes, the delightful Madi. Whom I believe your people look to as some kind of child leader. It's really rather... quaint. But Madi won't be looking for you, Clarke. She knows you've retreated to our famous mountain spa for a few days of rest."

"And who would have told her that lie?"

"Why, your mother told her, of course. I've heard it's remarkable how close the two of them have grown since you arrived..."

Her mother? Clarke felt her first spurt of real panic.

"How the hell did you get my mother to go along with this? And don't tell me she believed any bullshit about a mountain retreat."

"Alas, the good doctor has a somewhat suspicious nature and had to be persuaded."

"Persuaded... how?"

"I understand she and Ambassador Kane are... close, and that he's recently suffered some severe injuries. It would be a shame if he had a sudden relapse after doing so well."

Clarke stilled as the whole sorry scheme played out in her head. They'd threatened Kane to coerce Abby into telling Madi - and presumably everyone else - that she was on some weird retreat.

"But that's not going to work forever! Eventually, they'll be looking for me to return."

Gabriel smiled. "Well, you see, that's the beauty of it, Clarke. In a few days it will all be over, and then you really will be at that mountain retreat. Until the baby is safely delivered. After that... well, I'm sure you'll want to stay with your child, won't you?"

Clarke fought down the panic that now threatened to engulf her. Goddammit! She'd been in tighter spots than this and she'd made it through. If a small voice inside her head kept reminding her that none of those times had she been pregnant, she told herself to bloody well ignore it.

But as she fought to remain calm, Clarke couldn't help an involuntary glance towards the window. And freedom.

"Don't even bother," Gabriel said, noting the direction of her gaze. "This place is locked up tight, every door, every window. And even if you could get out, there are guards posted here and there along the drive to the locked gate. Which, by the way, is some distance away. After that, it's several miles to the city. So just... put it out of your head that you'll be going anywhere at all except exactly where I want you to."

"Guards? A locked gate? I thought this was your home."

Clarke knew her mocking was pointless, mere bravado, but it was all she had left. If she could still mock Gabriel, maybe she wouldn't fear him quite so much.

But he only shrugged and said mildly, "I've found it pays to be... vigilant."

"And am I to be kept under lock and key inside, too? Considering this place is guarded better than a fucking fort!"

"Oh, I think we can let you have the run of the place. As long as you promise to stay away from any locked rooms. Or do anything stupid, like try to run away."

Clarke sighed with what she hoped sounded like exasperation, but was in fact fury. "Without shoes or a weapon? Do I look like some kind of ninja?"

Gabriel laughed. "You look like anything but, Clarke. So go ahead, look around. And make sure to take in my sword collection," he added, his face puffed up with pride. "They were brought here by the first chosen ones and I've been collecting them for years. Just try not to hurt yourself."

By that time, she'd finished her lunch, and Clarke felt strangely exhausted. She began to wonder if in fact her water - or the food - had been drugged. But if so, she was just going to have to deal with it.

Because she hadn't twice escaped from a fucking vampire cult, survived countless attempts on her life, crossed figurative swords with a murderous computer, and endured a planet-destroying death wave, just to be taken down by this pompous asshole.

One way or another, she was damn well getting out of there.

XXXXXXXXXX

True to his word, after lunch Gabriel ordered Clarke's room to be left unlocked. If - as she'd pointed out to him - for no other reason than that pregnant women needed frequent access to the bathroom. But fatigue had overcome her almost immediately and she slept most of the rest of that day, and all the following night.

But the sleep had been restorative. When she woke the next morning, the overwhelming exhaustion seemed to have completely receded, and she hoped like hell it was just a leftover reaction from her initial drugging.

In fact, she almost felt like her old self again. If, that is, her old self had had another person growing inside her.

Clarke ruthlessly thrust that thought aside, telling herself that what she really needed was a plan. Some way to help herself. She always felt better when she had something to focus on; it was just how her mind worked. Whereas Bellamy...

Her brain pulled up short at the sudden realization that this was the day she was supposed to have spent with Bellamy. A Bellamy who'd finally decided he wanted to talk.

Dammit!

Clarke grit her teeth and let out a long frustrated breath. When she didn't show and he got that bullshit story about her mountainretreat, he'd probably think she'd just blown him off!

Another grievance to add to the growing list she planned to hold Gabriel Cadogan accountable for.

"Payback's a bitch," she muttered under her breath, throwing on her clothes and heading out for breakfast.

Once she'd eaten, Clarke set about exploring the house, an enormous collection of long hallways and mostly unused rooms, all kept dust-free by Gabriel's hard-working housekeeper. The woman, a gray-haired, timid-looking sort, was just finishing her cleaning rounds when Clarke happened to run into her.

For one second, Clarke thought about trying to speak to the woman, maybe getting some insight into the layout of the house, but when she offered her a tentative smile, the housekeeper eyed her warily, scampering quickly away.

Clarke sighed. It appeared she'd be on her own after all, and since the house was such a maze she was glad she'd always been fascinated with maps. Creating a mental map of the house ate up the next several hours, but at least she was finally able to find her way around with ease. Unfortunately, as of mid-day that was her only accomplishment.

She'd eventually stumbled onto the sword collection, of course. The room it was housed in took up such a large chunk of the ground floor that she could hardly have missed it.

There were dozens of magnificent weapons there, some displayed in glass cases, others merely affixed to the wall. On a whim, she carefully removed one of the smaller swords from its moorings but found it pretty damned awkward to swing with any sort of force or accuracy.

Now if there'd been a decent spear in that lot...

But, no, that wouldn't have helped her. Clarke knew that what she really needed was an altogether different sort of weapon. Something she could use to get into Gabriel's head, that would persuade him - or force him - to let her go.

And she wasn't going to find it in the sword room.

She had begun to despair finding it anywhere at all when her well-honed instinct for self-preservation finally kicked in around mid-afternoon. It had suddenly occurred to her that one particular off-limits room, one that was tucked away in a back corner of the main floor, seemed to have an awful lot of activity.

Making sure to keep well out of sight, Clarke began to focus her interest on that one room.

Frustratingly, while she saw Gabriel and the others going in and out of the room several times, she was never able to catch a glimpse inside. Until late in the day, just as both suns were beginning to set, when she finally got lucky.

As she watched from a shadowed doorway, one of Gabriel's henchmen turned to answer a question just as he was stepping out of the mystery room. Leaving the door slightly ajar for no more than ten seconds.

But that was long enough.

Long enough for Clarke to see that this was, in fact, Gabriel's office. To watch him put something away in what was very obviously a safe. And to wonder what the hell might be in that safe.

And definitely long enough to decide that it was desperately important that she get into that room and into that safe.

Clarke squared her shoulders in determination. She finally had herself a goal. Now she just had to figure out how to reach it.

XXXXXXXXXX

She spent hours that night turning it all over in her head, considering every option, but when morning came she finally decided to go with the simplest plan. She would borrow the housekeeper's key, the one she'd seen dangling from her cleaning trolley the day before.

It would have to be perfectly timed, of course, so that she removed it just as the woman reached the long hallway of unused bedrooms where the key would not be missed. With any luck - and Clarke was utterly determined that luck would be on her side - she could get into Gabriel's office, and into his safe, and still return the key before it was ever missed.

She knew she should probably worry about what might happen if she were caught, but she couldn't afford to think that way. Gabriel had said the coup was happening now, and that within days she'd be taken to the mountains. If he actually managed to pull it off, who knew what might happen to everyone she loved? Any outcome was better than losing them all over again.

So it was a risk she was determined to take. To get away, to save herself, to save them all.

The first part of the plan worked like a charm. As soon as the housekeeper headed into the first unused bedroom, Clarke darted from her hiding place and grabbed the key, racing as quietly as possible on bare feet down the center staircase and along the back hallway to the office. It was still fairly early, and she was counting on the room being empty.

When she turned the key, the click of the lock sounded like thunder in that quiet corridor, and Clarke paused, breath held, heart pounding, waiting to be caught out. But when no one came, she cracked open the door, slipped inside, and carefully closed it behind her.

The safe had been on the opposite wall, she recalled, and she saw now that a clumsy attempt had been made to "hide" it behind a picture. She swung the frame out easily enough, revealing a safe with a key-pad locking system. Clarke been afraid that with the Eligians DNA-based technology, the safe might have required an eye-scan or a handprint to open, but this looked like pretty standard stuff. Just a numeric code to enter into the keypad.

Of course, the trick was... what code?

Clarke rejected the idea that he'd use either his first or last name. Even for a narcissist like Gabriel that would be particularly stupid. If it was his date of birth, then she was going to be shit out of luck, because she had no idea when that was.

She was considering a look through his desk, on the faint hope that he'd have the code written down somewhere, when her eyes fell again on the framed picture that had covered the safe, a photograph of Bill Cadogan speaking to a crowd at a Second Dawn gathering. Bill hadn't made it to this new planet, but he was obviously revered here, especially by his great-nephew.

Clarke had thought him a lunatic, with his twelve levels and his special coins. She recalled the day that Jaha had told them about Cadogan, how they'd found the decrepit bunker and Bellamy had dug that old coin out of the dirt. The same coin Monty had eventually burned into a key to open the real bunker.

What the hell had been the inscription?

As she recalled the words, Clarke felt a sudden prickling up her spine, and the hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

Could that really be it?

She looked again at Cadogan's picture, trying to decide, knowing she might have only the one chance to get it right.

"Fuck it!" she muttered. She had nothing else. Eyeing the keys carefully, with shaking hands she slowly began to punch in the numbers.

9394557473

WE WILL RISE

Then she pulled the lever and like some magician had waved a wand, the damn thing actually opened.

Clarke gasped in surprise, but she had little time for self-congratulation. She quickly began to rifle through the contents of the safe, and at first all she found was a lot of Eligian currency and some of Gabriel's personal papers. But she kept digging, and soon enough she hit the mother load. Buried in the back corner was a flash drive, one she'd bet her life contained every single detail of Gabriel's planned coup.

Hot damn! Should she take it? If she did, where could she possibly hide it when Gabriel discovered - as he surely would - that it was gone?

Clarke was still holding the flash drive, still undecided, when she heard the first sounds of a commotion, shouts from somewhere inside the house.

And then her name.

"Clarke! Where the hell is that bitch?"

Goddammit! She couldn't be found in that room.

She quickly replaced the flash drive in the safe, then closed and locked it, swinging Cadogan's picture back into place. Then she padded to the door, listening carefully before opening it a crack. With no one on sight, she slipped out, shutting it silently behind her and running like hell for the center staircase, her heart hammering the entire time.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Clarke had reached the bottom of the staircase and wheeled around when she heard the angry voice. Not Gabriel, but one of his men, the short wiry one with a face like a ferret.

Clarke had no idea of his name.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Just exploring. Gabriel said it was okay..."

"Yeah? Well, explorations have been canceled. You're going back to your room and you're gonna stay there like a good little girl and not make a sound."

What the hell had happened?

She avoided the man's hand when he tried to grab onto her, instead walking quickly ahead of him up the stairs and down the hall to her room. When they got to the door, he shoved her roughly inside.

"Keep your mouth shut," he warned again before locking her in.

Clarke sat quietly on her bed, as the sounds of activity died down inside the house, only to be replaced by some new commotion outside. She strained to hear, but could catch only the cadence of Gabriel's voice, not his actual words.

When she heard a new voice, Clarke's heart nearly stopped.

It couldn't be!

She hurriedly dragged her stool over to the window and climbed onto it, her face just barely reaching the very bottom window pane. Angling her head carefully so that she wouldn't be seen herself, Clarke was just able to observe the area around the front door.

Where Gabriel Cadogan was having a very animated discussion with Bellamy Blake.

Bellamy, who'd somehow gotten the use of one of the Eligians' few motorized vehicles. Who'd somehow gotten directions to Gabriel's house. Who'd somehow come up with an excuse to be there.

His deep voice sounded much louder than usual and that's when Clarke knew for sure. That this was no coincidence. That no matter what bullshit he was currently feeding Gabriel, Bellamy knew she was there, had come to rescue her, and wanted her to hear him. Wherever she might be.

"Oriana was good enough to lend me the vehicle," he was telling Gabriel matter-of-factly. "I reminded her you'd invited me and she said your collection was well worth seeing." He shrugged. "But of course if you've changed your mind I can leave..."

While she couldn't hear his words, she watched Gabriel's face as he struggled with - and finally gave in to - his desire to show off his prized collection of swords.

As he followed Gabriel to the door, Bellamy looked up at her window, almost as though he knew she was there. It was impossible, of course, but her heart still gave a little jolt.

After they disappeared inside, Clarke stood at the window shaking with both elation and fear.

Bellamy had come to rescue her and... what the hell did he think he was doing?

Coming here alone with such a flimsy excuse, there was a damn good chance he was going to get himself killed! It was absolutely, positively, not worth the risk.

She sighed in frustration. He'd put his life on the line for her - again - and she couldn't even help him because she was locked inside this damn room!

It wasn't until she jumped off the stool and it jiggled in her pants pocket that she finally remembered.

She still had the housekeeper's key.