Shanara wakes painfully and fearfully on the back of a horse, her hands tied together in front of her and a cloth bag over her head. Her limp body jolts around as the horse gallops through the wooded area. Bewildered and tired, she groans in agony as she falls forward, the Grounder seated behind her on the great stallion catching her before she collapses. If she were anymore conscious, Shanara might ask for the bag to be taken off her head, she'd ask where she's being taken and what is going on, however the young doctor is preoccupied with simply deciphering whether or not she is in fact dead.
She has no idea what death feels like, although she would not be surprised if she were in fact dead. Shanara certainly feels it. She's never felt such resounding suffering. Physically, she's destroyed. She can no longer centralise the pain, her entire body is simply numb from it. Her organs work harder than ever, trying to keep her alive. Her wounds bleed, the hot liquid oozing out of the messy cuts and lacerations lacing her body, soaking their way through the polyester material barely covering her limbs, but Shanara doesn't feel any of it. Perhaps she would if her mind weren't also suffering. Unable to see anything through the bag over her head, Shanara is dangerously left to her own thoughts. For reasons unknown, the young doctor is ashamed in herself. Surely she had done everything right? What other choices did she have? Has she wasted her second chance at life? She isn't entirely sure since she is having trouble piecing together what did in fact happen, but her body shakes with anguish for a reason. Shanara can't help but wonder what her family would say if they saw her, what her father would say. Her own father, Lin Preston, gave his life to get her down to Earth. Did he die in vain? All Shanara really wants is her father's warm arms around her fragile body.
Shanara Preston hopes that she is in fact dead so that she may reunite with her beloved father.
Strange echoes bounce around her as she slowly gains control over some of her senses. She's violently thrown back into reality when she's pulled from the horse's back and made to stand on her feet. With an unidentified hand on her arm, Shanara walks as she's lead forward, her legs a little shaky. Tripping slightly over the uneven ground, her ears slowly become attuned to the sound around her. First it's the sound of foliage under her feet and then it's voices. Distracted, she gasps when she's roughly forced to kneel. Sighing as the sensation of pain returns in her leg, she pulls against the ties around her wrists to stop herself from crying out.
Again, Shanara wonders to herself if she is to meet her demise. Kneeling on earth in an unknown location doesn't seem too promising to her. Suddenly then, the cloth bag covering her head is ripped off.
"What the fuck did you do to her?"
Shanara uses her bound hands to shelter her eyes from the light blinding her vision. She is unable to open one of her eyes but the other slowly adjusts to the daylight. Through the mass of hair sprawled over her shoulders and around her face, she makes out the form of a tall boy and a girl. Then another boy and another, then a whole crowd manifests before her.
"I was ordered to deliver her to you alive. Here she is," Anya's familiar voice rings aloud, "alive."
"That didn't mean you had to beat her half to death before handing her over to us," Graham growls from where he stands next to Clarke, a gun in hand and his face wild with anger.
"It was her choice," Anya replies.
Unbeknownst to her, Shanara kneels on the very outskirt of the unspoken boundary separating the delinquents camp and the Grounders territory. She was purposefully placed there, everyone knows it. Graham, Clarke and the Commander have agreed on a temporary truce until official peace negotiation can take place, and in a sign of friendship it was agreed that Shanara would be given back to her people, but still Anya challenges the teenagers by placing Shanara just out of their reach. Is it simply a test to see what the sky people will do? Or is it something more sinister, perhaps an invitation for war?
Clarke wanted to go to Shanara the moment she saw her being led toward them but she knew she had to wait. The moment they made her kneel, Clarke didn't think it could get any worse. Shanara's beloved lab coat is gone. Her trousers are drenched in blood. Her dirty t-shirt is ripped in numerous places, revealing some of her bra and many open, bleeding wounds and cuts. But then the bag covering her head is taken off and Clarke has to be retrained from running over to her friend. Wells held her back, whispering that they have to be careful, that the Grounders can kill Shanara if any of the delinquents make the wrong step. So she stands there, rigid next to Graham and the other kids sent down to Earth, her eyes trained on Shanara's battered face.
No one has replied to Anya, so they all stand there in silence, swords and guns drawn, the Grounder envoy on one side and those left of the delinquents on the other, tension growing every second. Clarke knows that she can't just stand there and do nothing.
"Graham," Clarke says, "I'm going to get her."
Graham can't exactly stop her. They will be standing there forever if no one does something. Someone has to make the first move and he knows it won't be the Grounders. He taps his foot quickly as his mind begins to run wild with different possibilities as to how this hand over will end. Graham doubts that the Commander will go against her word and despite telling Shanara ages ago that she doesn't belong with the delinquents, she is in fact one of them, making her worth the risk.
"Take Wells," Graham tells Clarke, keeping his eyes trained on the small army of Grounders and his hands on his gun.
Not wanting to make the situation anymore hostile and wanting nothing more than to get Shanara away from the Grounders, Wells places his gun by his feet before accompanying Clarke on the 20 foot walk over to the perimeter of their camp. Many of the delinquents watch on with caution, the older teenagers with their hands on their guns and the Grounders with their weapons already drawn. As Clarke and Wells approach, Shanara gazes up at them from where she kneels in the dirt. Wells grits his teeth together in anger as he sees what the Grounders have done to her. Shanara's face is too bruised and beaten for her to portray any emotion on her features, not that she knows what emotion she wants to convey at this very moment anyways. She can sense the tension between both parties though, there is obviously something that she is missing. So, exhausted and defeated, Shanara kneels there without moving or saying a word.
Untying the ropes binding Shanara's wrists together, Wells and Clarke lift her from the floor, each of them on either side of her. As they turn away, Anya opens her mouth.
"Your healer is strong," she says, making everyone pause. "Foolish, but strong."
Shanara doesn't react, her mind consumed with too much to fully process Anya's words.
All three of them walk back to the crowd gathered in the middle of their camp. Once they are safely out of reach, Shanara looks over to Anya as she stays exactly where she is, hands folded together, her Grounders standing stoic beside her.
"Out of respect, the Commander has delayed negotiations for two days to allow your primary healer to recover," Anya informs Clarke and Graham, her expression hard. "The Commander has also decided to give you what is left of your medical supplies so that you may help heal her."
In separate edges of the clearing, two Grounders place both medical containers on the boundary. Then as quickly as they came, the Grounder envoy retreats into the woods and vanish.
Shanara watches them carefully as they go. It took all her energy not to collapse the moment that Clarke and Wells helped her to her feet because what was left of her pride did not allow her to show anymore weakness in front of the Grounders. So, as Anya spoke, Shanara stayed still on her feet, her breathing as even as possible. Now that they are out of sight, her breathing becomes involuntarily quicker.
A small shout escapes the young doctor as she collapses in the arms of her friends, the constant ambiguity over the fate of her own mortality finally taking its toll on Shanara's sanity.
Shanara thrashes as she shouts and groans, forcing Wells, Graham and Murphy to hold down her limbs as Clarke tries to control the young doctor's bleeding, straighten her broken nose, dig dirt out of her open wounds, and cauterise her many cuts. Falling in and out of consciousness, Clarke watches over her as her brow drips with sweat from a growing fever. Everyone floods in and out of the dropship, most come to ask about the young doctor's condition, even those who once had a great aversion to her.
By late afternoon, some six hours after she was given back to her people, Shanara stirs awake. With one eye swollen shut, she blinks the other open. Now fully conscious, Shanara stares up at the metal ceiling of the dropship without uttering a word. She knows that she's not alone since she notices Clarke in her peripheral vision, however the young doctor can't bring herself to speak. Wanting nothing more than to bask in the silence and stillness around her, Shanara lies in the makeshift bed and comforts herself.
Clarke is by Shanara's side when she slowly opens her eyes. A smile makes its way onto the blonde's lips but it quickly fades as she watches her friend lie still and defeated, her one eye unblinking. Clarke opens her mouth to say something, anything at all to fill the silence but she thinks better of it as she notices a single tear run down Shanara's face, the very epitome of her sadness and pain. Clarke holds in her own tears as she stays seated and quiet. If the young doctor wanted to say something, she would have. Leaning back in her chair, Clarke stays by her side and decides that it will be her friend that will speak first, if or when she is ready.
Time passes slowly, but eventually Shanara reaches out for Clarke's hand. Taking it, she looks at her friend's battered face with sad eyes.
"Are you okay?" Shanara asks, her throat dry.
"Yes," she replies, her voice almost a whisper. "Are you?"
"No," the young doctor admits, "but I will be."
A long moment of silence passes between them as they stare at each other with knowing eyes. Both have so much to say yet neither of them have the courage to speak.
"So, what's the diagnosis, Doc?" Shanara says in an attempt to lighten the mood. It doesn't work but Clarke forces a small smile onto her face for Shanara's sake.
"Bruised ribs, broken nose. We have no x-ray machine to confirm but you may have a non displaced collarbone fracture, I put your arm in a sling anyways. The stitches on your leg were torn, you've lost a lot of blood," Clarke frowns. "We have no thread left to stitch you up so I had to cauterize all your wounds to stop the bleeding. I gave you what was left of the morphine to help with the pain, it wasn't much but hopefully it will help."
"Any infections?" Shanara sighs uncomfortably.
"No," Clarke says with relieved smile. "You had a little fever so I gave you some antibiotics, but there are no external signs of infection. As long as we keep your wounds clean, get you food and water so you can strengthen your immune system, you'll be better before you know it."
"Thank you, Clarke. For everything," Shanara smiles up at her friend, glad to see a friendly face.
It's nightfall by the time either of them speak again. Feeling moderately better than she had only hours ago, Shanara's curiosity and worry takes hold of her mind.
"How long was I with the Grounders?" The young doctor asks. "I lost track of the time."
"Eight days," she sighs in reply. "I was with you for two of them, you were alone for six. It would have been shorter but we couldn't come to an agreement with Lexa and her advisers over your release. I'm sorry."
"Lexa?" Shanara's eyebrows furrow.
"Lexa, the girl who helped us with-"
"No. I know who she is, Clarke," the young doctor shifts in realisation. "But why were you negotiating my release with Lexa?"
Clarke pauses, her features very still. She speaks slowly as she replies, "Because Lexa is the Commander. I...I thought you knew."
Shanara lies back in the makeshift bed, both shocked and outraged. Lexa dressed differently to the rest of the Grounders, she didn't dress in luscious furs but in sparse material and she didn't carry a weapon. When any of the sky girls were looking, she'd act obedient which made the young doctor assume Anya and the others mistreated her, or perhaps the Grounders regarded Lexa as their social inferior, but she came and went as she pleased. As Shanara recalls her time in that dark room, she shakes her head in disbelief. The way all the Grounders acted around Lexa, it didn't seem natural, it was as if they were always cautious around only her. Lexa was there to witness Shanara's fight, right by Anya's side. She didn't look like a poor little girl then, she looked strong, dressed better than even Anya. But Shanara ignored the signs. It was all a lie, a very elaborate act. Of course Lexa is the Commander, it makes so much sense now. Shanara can't believe how blind she was, how could she have been so oblivious?
The young doctor writhes in anger. She's angry at herself, at Lexa. She feels betrayed and she feels stupid. All the things she told Lexa, it seemed so meaningless at the time but now? Now Shanara can't help but wonder if she's condemned herself and everyone else in this camp to hell.
"Why? Why would Lexa go through all that trouble?" Shanara starts to sit up. "Why would she lie about who she is? What, so she could listen in on our conversations?"
"Shanara! Don't move, you will hurt yourself-" Clarke exclaims.
Shanara ignores Clarke's words, too angry to even feel her pain. Turning to her friend, she asks again, "Why would did she do it?"
"I don't know," Clarke leans back in her chair, defeated by Shanara's stubbornness. "I asked her why when I found out she was the Commander but she didn't answer. Maybe it was so she could listen in on our conversations, maybe it wasn't. All I know is that when Graham and I first met with her, their main plan was to kill us all. I tried talking her out of it. I pointed out that their doctors couldn't save Tris but we did, I told her that we're willing to share our medical knowledge and our weapons with them but it wasn't enough to persuade her otherwise. Lexa said that we would benefit far more from an alliance than they ever would. I thought that they were going to kill us all that night, that they were going to start with you but they never came. Then Lexa called for a meeting late the next day, she had changed her mind. It took hours but we came to some sort of an agreement; as long as we stay far away from them, we can hunt freely during the day without having to worry about some sort of attack. Lexa agreed to have one of their doctors treat Jasper since we saved Tris, but you'd only be released when Tris no longer needed you. I had to help their primary healer with some of his patients, and now peace negotiations the day after tomorrow."
"Jasper? He's alright?" Shanara turns to see if he's lying in his makeshift bed, where he was when she left him over a week ago. The young doctor stops short, grunting in pain as her ribs scream at her, only to realise she's sitting in Jasper's bed.
"I told you to lie down," Clarke says, her lips forming a frown. "Jasper's not here, he's probably out with Monty. When Nyko treated him he was about to die but he's a fighter. Jasper's not exactly alright, he still has a long way to go but he's doing well, considering. Thankfully no one else has been injured since my release, except for you."
"I feel so stupid," Shanara touches her swollen eye.
"Why?"
"Because I could have avoided all of this," the young doctor gestures to all her injuries with her one good arm. "If I hadn't have fought Ward then I wouldn't be in this fucking situation."
"That's how you got hurt?" Clarke leans forward in her chair, her eyes wide. "You got into a fight with a Grounder?"
"I thought they were going to kill me," Shanara explains. "All I remember is being dragged out of the wooden cabin I was staying in with no warning. No one told me why or where they were taking me. I just remember all the Grounders, watching like they were preparing for some spectacle. I asked Anya if she was going to kill me and she wouldn't answer, but she had this look on her face. I don't know how to describe it. It was like some sort of confirmation, I guess. I mean, Tris was getting better. They brought in Nyko, their primary healer, so they didn't need me anymore. No one told me what was happening here, for all I knew you were all dead already so I just assumed that those Grounders were taking me to my death. I didn't want to die so I did the only thing I could, I fought back. I thought I was fighting for my life, I had no idea I was being released."
"You did what you thought you had to do to survive. You shouldn't feel stupid because of it," Clarke grasps Shanara's hand reassuringly. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"At least I'm here now," Shanara shrugs lightly.
"I know it sounds awful," Clarke begins, "but that fight might have been good for you and I don't mean physically. When Anya handed you over she seemed like she respected you. She said that you are strong, of course she didn't need to tell us that, we already know," Clarke nudges Shanara playfully. "But it was a compliment nevertheless, something she's never given any of us. And Lexa never agreed to give us back our medical supplies, but she did it to help you. She even delayed the peace negotiations to give you some time to recover. She must have some sort of respect for you if she'd do all that."
Considering Clarke's words, Shanara doesn't feel as foolish anymore. Maybe the fight wasn't trivial after all, perhaps it did mean something.
When the young doctor wakes next, a girl with short brown hair is placing a cold piece of cloth on her forehead.
"Madelade?"
"Yes, it's me," she smiles down at her.
"I'm so glad you're alright," the young doctor sighs, blinking up at her childhood friend.
"I am, so are the other girls," Madelade informs her, squeezing Shanara's hand lightly. "So, don't worry about us, okay? Just focus on getting better."
"What time is it? Is everyone asleep?"
"It's nightfall. Everyone's outside by the fire, eating."
"I've had enough of lying in this bed," Shanara begins to shift.
"Then you better get used to it," Madelade stops the young doctor from moving. "You're badly hurt, Shanara. If you get up and start walking around you are only going to get worse. You've been taking care of us since the day we landed here. You need to rest, let us take care of you for once."
Shanara closes her eyes, knowing Madelade is right. It doesn't make it any easier on her though. Being left for hours to her own thoughts and nightmares is finally taking its toll on her sanity. Trapped in the metal dropship and lying in that bed, injured and unable to do anything makes the young doctor feel helpless, powerless, like some sort of victim, a feeling Shanara is slowly starting to loath. She doesn't feel right just lying down while everyone else is outside, fending off God knows who or what.
"Please, Madelade," she pleads with her friend. "I just want to go outside for a minute. Afterwards, I swear I will stay put in this bed until I'm better."
Madelade seriously considers the idea. She can hear the desperation in Shanara's voice, see the misery in her eyes, the anguish on her features. Who is Madelade to deny her simple request after everything she's been through. The seventeen year old girl cannot begin to imagine what is going through the young doctor's head, what she's feeling. If going outside will make her feel better, she can't say no.
"Clarke is going to kill me," Madelade smiles down at her friend as she starts to help her up into a sitting position.
"I'll talk to her," Shanara finds herself smirking, genuinely excited by the idea of getting up and going outside.
With her one good arm around Madelade's shoulders, she hauls herself off the bed and stands. Madelade struggles slightly as she supports the majority of the Shanara's weight when she nearly faints as a wave of nausea washes over her. They both pause as the young doctor breathes through her pain and tries to focus on not passing out.
"Shit, are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," Shanara manages to answer through gritted teeth.
Together, the young doctor limps slowly to the dropship's entrance. With the moon and bright fire illuminating their path, she makes her way down the metal ramp and looks up at the large crowd paused in front of her. Straining a smile, Shanara blinks her one eye, looking for anyone familiar.
"What the-" A large form stalks toward her. Wells' wide eyes suddenly appear in front of her. "Shanara, what are you doing?"
"I told her to stay in the bed," Madelade tells Wells.
"Like I'd listen to anyone," Shanara grunts.
The three of the them walk to the fire. Some of the teenagers get up from the wooden logs, offering her their seat. Shanara shakes her head.
"No, thank you," she tells them. "If I sit down I'll never get back up."
Many approach the young doctor, offering her a short greeting and a few words, some of them filled with relief that she's alive, others wanting to know what happened to her at the Grounder camp, others saddened by her condition. Although it's all a little overwhelming, Shanara welcomes anyone that approaches, taking her time to remember the faces and voices of those she had thought were killed when she was held prisoner by the Grounders.
"Clarke's gone to get water," Wells informs Shanara. "You'll want to be back in that bed by the time she's back or you'll-"
"What the hell is Shanara doing up?" Clarke exclaims from the other side of camp, roughly dropping her side of the container causing the water within to spill over the edge and onto the floor. With his grip still tightly on the handle, Eric is pulled onto the ground by the heavy container when Clarke lets go. She splutters an apology, making her way over to the young doctor as Murphy helps Eric to his feet.
"Clarke, calm down. I'm just-" Shanara begins, being interrupted by her friend.
"Calm down?" Clarke looks at her incredulously. "You could have died, Shanara. You've barely even healed and now you're walking around when you should be resting. You could get an infection or hu-"
"Clarke," Shanara places her hand on the blonde's shoulder, pausing her mid sentence.
Clarke's frame goes rigid, her breathing quick and shallow. As her hands shaking from shock, worry and anger, she has to grit her teeth to keep the tears in her eyes from falling down her checks. Clarke has lost everyone. Her father is dead. Although her own mother betrayed her long ago, even if she wanted to talk to her she cannot, Dr Abigail Griffin is in space. Thalia, cellmate turned best friend, is dead. Clarke can no longer trust the boy she once loved, Wells. Shanara is the only one left. Her mentor. Her friend. Shanara is the only person on Earth Clarke really cares about, and she's been beaten to a pulp and there was nothing Clarke could have done to stop it. Any one of her wounds could get infected. She could lose Shanara at any moment and Clarke doesn't know if she can carry on if that were to happen. She's tried so hard to keep herself together, for everyone else's sake if not for hers, but she's slowly losing it.
Shanara seems to understand. She reassures the blonde by squeezing her shoulder, the young doctor's one good eye searching Clarke's frantic gaze, smiling best she can. The simple gestures slowly begins to calm the blonde. After a moment, Shanara lightly embraces her friend. An action neither of them knew they desperately needed. The young doctor had no idea that Clarke cared as much as she does. Suddenly, Shanara doesn't feel so alone anymore. There's hope that the emptiness inside of her and that familiar feeling of being lost could start to fade one day.
After some time, both girls break apart. The still camp, the tens of eyes staring at them stir back to reality and life continues as best it can. The powerful fire rages on as the delinquents eat and chat. Shanara speaks with Wells, Madelade and some of the girls, then some of Charlotte's friends, and soon her one good eye lands on Graham. She hobbles over to him. He watches intently as she struggles, his mouth in a hard line and his hand on the trusty gun slung around his shoulder. He dismisses those standing around him as the young doctor pauses in front of him.
"You look like shit," Graham is the first to speak.
"I feel it," Shanara admits.
They both fall silent, a knowing tension growing between.
"Graham, look," the young doctor begins, understanding that getting straight to the point is the best option in this situation. "I know we've never really gotten along. Hell, I really did hate you for a time and I'm sure the feeling was mutual. Perhaps you still don't like me but that doesn't excuse what I did. When I found the note Clarke left me I just took off, not even contemplating the idea of it being a trap. I should have told you, or at least someone. I just left you all here, and I'm sorry."
Graham stands there, still and quiet. The fire behind them flickers, casting shadows across his face which is void of any emotion. Although it is dark and her vision is impaired, Shanara can see a difference in the boy in front of her. The cut on his cheek is now nearly completely healed, it will leave a scar. His shoulders and arms are far more built than before, the material covering his body now stretched sparsely over his limbs. Most likely achieved from vigorous manual labour, hunting and chopping wood for the fire. His skin may be a little dirty, but his hands are undeniably redder compared to his usual light skin. A rare condition perhaps, no. Growing calluses, yes but not the cause of the redness. The vibrant staining around his fingers, under his nails, and in the creases on his palms, it's blood. Shanara has similar stains on her own skin, it's how she knows. No amount of water can wash the blood from their hands, both have tried to no avail. She can see that Graham hasn't only changed physically but mentally, too. He isn't the unpredictable and self righteous boy that landed on Earth anymore. Shanara can see it in his unwavering gaze, filled with familiar emotions the young doctor can't place. Horror. Exhaustion. Anger, perhaps. The things he's seen, the things they've all seen and been through. It's taking its toll on everyone. None of them are kids anymore.
If Shanara were anyone else, he might even seem dangerous or intimidating.
"Has anyone told you what happened here after you left and got taken?" Graham finally speaks, slow and purposefully.
"No," Shanara is almost afraid to answer.
"We want after you, sent search parties," his nostrils flair. "We were ambushed, twice. No one died this time, but plenty were hurt. Things were bad here. We were surrounded by those Grounders. We couldn't see them but they were out there in the woods, waiting for us to step foot outside of this clearing again. We couldn't hunt so we had no food. We couldn't get to the river so we had no water. You were gone so we had no doctor. We were starving and dehydrated. Half the camp were bleeding out from the attacks. Some of these kids were going crazy, wanting to kill themselves before the Grounders got to us."
He looks furious. He looks broken. For the first time ever, Graham looks vulnerable.
"Yes, you should have told me about the note. Yes, you should have said something to us before leaving. You're a hypocrite. We have to work together to survive, you said. You've been pretty fucking absent this past week, Doc."
Shanara opens her mouth to reply but the words are stuck in her throat. It isn't fair. She never asked to be kidnapped. Everyone thought Clarke was dead, when Shanara got that note all she wanted was to save her friend. Graham shouldn't be attacking her like this, blaming her for everything. As if she hasn't been through enough already, however Graham is right. She had been preaching about teamwork since they all landed on Earth and doing so almost patronizingly because she was older and she thought they were nothing but children. Never mind her good intentions, she still abandoned them when they needed her, when Graham needed help leading in Clarke's absence. Guilt washes over her and the words caught in Shanara's throat seem meaningless now.
Not knowing what to say, Shanara stays silent, simply staring up at Graham's hard face.
"What did they do to you?" Graham asks, frowning slightly. He leaves her no time to answer though, perhaps he doesn't want to know, maybe he can't bare to hear Shanara's reply. She's silently thankful since she is in no frame of mind to discuss her time with the Grounders. "You're not the same."
Again, Shanara is too taken aback by Graham's comment to reply. She wants to know what he means. How is she not the same? How has she changed? Her appearance has, of course but Shanara knows that is not what he means. What has led him to believe that she's any different? Her expression? Her body language? Maybe her reply, or lack there of?
"We've all changed, Graham," Shanara answers solemnly, never breaking eye contact. A frown makes its way onto both of their faces.
"I don't hate you," Graham admits. "And I am glad that you're alive."
Another moment passes between them and Shanara gives him one last nod, turning to leave before stopping when she hears Graham speak up.
"For what it's worth, Shanara," he says, his eyes wide and sincere. "I'm sorry, too."
She gives him a sad smile before re-joining her friends by the fire.
"Are you hungry?" Wells asks, offering her a piece of cooked meat. "Here."
"I'm okay, thank you," Shanara's one good arm touches her painful stomach. "I am thirty though, is there any water?"
"Sure, here you go," Madelade hands the young doctor a small, metal container filled with water.
Taking a tentative sip, Shanara finds herself then gulping the liquid down her tender throat, drinking every single drop from the container. Unwise in her condition but she's never been more thirty in her life. Her ribs hurt as she hands the metal box back to Madelade, thanking her. Suddenly finding it increasingly harder to swallow, Shanara's breathing becomes shallow. A painful stab starts radiating from somewhere in her abdomen and a burning sensation rises in her throat. As if something is stuck there, the young doctor coughs. Something pulls from deep within her chest and she coughs again, her hand going to her mouth. Shanara topples over, her friends going to their knees to help her. Her body convulses when her diaphragm contracts tightly as her coughing becomes uncontrollable. She retches, liquid spewing out of her mouth and onto her hand. Rising to her knees to take a breath, she looks down at the dark liquid pooling in her palm.
"It's blood," someone gasps from above her.
She's coughing again, blood and water spewing from her mouth and dripping down her chin. Shanara's breathing becomes panicked as her body shakes from pain, exhaustion and shock. Someone yells for Clarke as Shanara screams into the ground.
Equal parts excited and cautious, Shanara shivers as she wades into the cold water. Calmed slightly by the sound of the clear water running over her healing skin, the young doctor finds herself smiling and grimacing at the sensation of the liquid surrounding her body and stinging her many wounds. Using her one uninjured arm to move around in the water, she's careful to keep her feet touching the solid ground of the small lake. Shanara had once read about swimming in a book when she was in school. Water is rationed up on the Colony, so when the young doctor still lived on the ship the idea of swimming was impossible, and considered both futile and a waste of resources.
Shanara doubts anyone on the Colony knows how astonishing it feels though.
Using a piece of material, the young doctor scrubs the dirt, sweat and blood from her skin. Even plucking up enough courage to submerge her head, Shanara washes her long black hair in the icy water. Satisfied that her skin is the cleanest it can be, she turns and throws the cloth at Clarke. The blonde, sitting up on the lake side, catches the wet material and chuckles a little at how much her friend is enjoying the water. Clarke can't help but smile to herself, glad that Shanara is showing a sliver of happiness after her ordeal.
"How did you find this place?" Shanara asks, making her way out of the water and over to her friend.
"One of the boys back at camp found it," Clarke explains, rolling up her trousers and using the cloth to wash her legs and arms. "He followed the river and it led here."
"Why don't you just jump in the water?" Shanara limps over to the blonde, her underwear and bra dripping wet.
"Remember what I said earlier?" Clarke glances at the woods surrounding them, a small frown on her face. "The Grounders are probably out there watching us. I can't go in the water without my clothes on, knowing that they're there. I don't know how you do it."
The young doctor must have missed Clarke's earlier statement, perhaps too excited by the lake to really focus on the later half of their conversation. Shanara glances at the entrance to the forest, narrowing her eyes to see into the shadowy trees but notices nothing. Clarke's probably right. The Grounders are constantly spying on the delinquents at camp, no one ever sees them though but they feel their presence in the trees, so what is there to stop them from watching the two girls by the lake? Nothing. The idea of being spied on while bathing in her underwear should frighten Shanara, but it doesn't. She doesn't really care, not anymore. She does agree that her actions are a little stupid though. They could be kidnapped again, or worse this time, so walking around in her undergarments is not Shanara's smartest decision. She silently praises Clarke, but at this point Shanara is past the point of caring what happens to herself.
"The way I am now?" Shanara grunts as she sits down next to Clarke. "I'm really nothing special to look at."
Shanara isn't exactly wrong. She may be in her underwear and bra but her body isn't what it usually is, now it is weary and mangled.
Although Shanara has been feeling better over these last couple of days, she is looking worse for wear. Her knuckles aren't nearly as swollen anymore and she's regained the vision in both eyes since the swelling on her face has now gone down, but the bruising is still bad. The bruising under her one eye is quite severe. The purple and yellow discolouration is also spread around the bridge of her nose and is prevalent on the left side of her jaw. The laceration across her eyebrow and on the top of her forehead are closing up nicely, but they will leave scars. Shanara's lip is still busted but her teeth don't hurt anymore, which she is thankful for. The young doctor's shoulder is very stiff but both wounds Nyko cauterized are healing best they can. Sadly, the wound on her thigh will leave an awful scar but it is finally closed and healing over. The skin around Shanara's ribs is also dark from bruising and so is her right knee, but with time that will fade. Numerous little cuts lace her body, the young doctor ignores them though, they'll be gone soon.
Not dwelling on the mess that her body is currently in, the young doctor uses her fingers to comb through her long hair and tries to relax by lying down on the stone bank, listening to the lake and blinking up at the bright blue sky. Clarke does the same, their shoulders touching.
"Thank you for taking time away to bring me here, Clarke," Shanara says.
"You're welcome," Clarke smiles. "I think we both needed a break from camp for a little while. Since the meeting with Lexa finished early today and you won't stop hopping around camp helping people when I tell you to rest, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity."
"Peace negotiations aren't getting any easier then?" Shanara frowns, taking in her friend's depleted expression.
Sighing, Clarke shakes her head.
"I'm sorry," Shanara offers.
"It's not your fault," the blonde turns to the young doctor. "What Lexa is asking is entirely unreasonable, we can't agree to their demands."
Again, Shanara frowns at the frustration in Clarke's voice. If there was anything she could do to help, she would do it. Unfortunately, there's nothing she can do. Someone had suggested that she tag along to the peace negotiations which started yesterday, but Clarke and Graham both agreed that involving Shanara would be a very bad idea, especially considering everything that happened only a few days ago. To say that the young doctor was relieved when they decided to not involve her in the negotiations, is an understatement. Not only does she not want to be anywhere near Anya or the Commander in fear of lashing out at them and making everything worse, she has no interest in involving herself in the meetings, not that she believes she has the right attributes to rationally come to some agreement with the Grounders anyways. If Clarke and Graham want her impute, all they need do is ask. They know that, she herself told them that, but they haven't asked her for her advice as of yet so Shanara is not going to say anything about it. That is why the young doctor chooses not to say anything to Clarke now, but she reassuringly squeezes her friend's hand in reply.
"I didn't expect peace to be easy," Clarke rises into a sitting position, "but we were negotiating for the entire day yesterday and nothing came of it, only Graham's outbursts and vailed threats from Lexa's advisors. Today was even worse. Ambassadors from all the clans were in the meeting. Again, Lexa laid out demands that we just can't agree to, only this time, the threats weren't vailed anymore. I tried renegotiating, suggested other terms which we can actually agree to while also being beneficial to them. Lexa seemed interested but some of the Ambassadors certainly weren't happy with anything Graham and I said. Most of the meeting wasn't even in English. I can't understand their language but I'm pretty sure half of them just suggested killing us all instead of settling for peace, which is ironic because the whole reason today's meeting ended early is because one of the Ambassadors and Lexa's advisor nearly broke out into a knife fight."
"Fucking hell," Shanara shakes her head incredulously.
"Yeah," Clarke closes her eyes and rubs her forehead methodically. "These negotiations can't go on for much longer. The Grounders are getting restless and we're running out of options."
"So, what are you going to do?" Shanara joins Clarke in a sitting position.
"We can argue with them about the demands for as long as we can, but we're really in no place to say no," Clarke says, looking out across the lake. "Best case scenario is that we come to some sort of compromise."
"I believe in you," Shanara tells her friend reassuringly. "Whatever demands you and Graham agree to, I have no doubt in my mind that you fought for the best possible outcome. Anything is better than war. As long as we're all given a chance to live free, I'm sure we will all be happy with whatever comes from these negotiations."
"What if not all of us can be happy?" Clarke turns to Shanara, catching her off guard.
"What?"
"What if not all us can be happy?"
"What do you mean?" Shanara's brow furrows, worry creeping onto her features.
"Worse case scenario, Graham and I have to agree to Lexa's demands. What if that means only some of us could live free? What if only some of us could be happy and the rest, unhappy?" Clarke's eyes are wide, unwavering and frightening. "Is it worth it? Is it worth the sacrifice?"
Shanara sits there, perfectly still and her mouth parted in panic. All thoughts escape her and she stammers to find something to say, but that's not what Clarke needs. She needs genuine advice, not some meaningless bullshit. How is Shanara supposed to answer that question? There's a lot of context missing but she doesn't dare ask Clarke what the Commander's demands are, it's what Shanara wanted after all, she never wanted to be involved in these negotiations.
Sacrifice. It's a word Shanara feels very familiar with. She sacrificed her life for Josie. Her father sacrificed his life for his daughter. Charlotte, Thalia and countless others lost their lives and for what? If Clarke and Graham don't come to some sort of agreement with the Grounders, they will end up dead. 100 delinquents buried in the dirt, lives wasted. They can't be happy if they don't live. Is the unhappiness of some a worthy sacrifice to free them all?
"We've come too far, been through too much, already made too many sacrifices to turn back now. If we don't make peace with the Grounders then everything that's happened to us would have been for nothing. All those lives lost in vain. We may not like it but if agreeing to Lexa's demands mean at least some of us get to be happy after all this...bloodshed and struggle," Shanara tells Clarke, "then yes, I believe it is a worthy sacrifice."
A day later, after meeting with the Commander for hours, Clarke and Graham stand in front of all that are left of the delinquents. Sitting tightly around the burning fire, the moon shining brightly up in the night sky, the teenage leaders are slow to speak. When the large crowd becomes restless, Clarke finally opens her mouth.
"The Grounders are divided into twelve groups that they call clans. These twelve clans live in separate territories. They're all different, led by twelve individual leaders. However, they all answer to a woman they call the Commander," Clarke explains slowly. "She's offered us an alliance. If we agree to it, it would mean peace between us and the Grounders. No more fighting. We'll be free."
"What's the catch?" Murphy asks from where he's sitting on the floor.
Graham glances at Clarke before he continues, "If we agree to the alliance, we have to agree to the Commander's demands. One of which include...marriage."
Shanara turns her head to Wells, her expression confused. They stand together at the back of the crowd, leaning up against the dropship's outer wall, watching on as everyone whispers amongst each other, unsure of what Graham means. Slowly, shouts of objection rise from many.
"Twelve of us will have to marry Grounders," Clarke continues over the noise. "One to each clan."
"Then what happens to the rest of us?" Jasper shouts, his mouth agape.
"That's another demand; those who do not marry will be split equally and live with the different clans," Graham frowns.
The crowd erupts into shouts, some even jumping to their feet in rage. Some shout at Clarke and Graham, belittling them, telling them that they're stupid to even suggest that they marry the Grounders. A few girls begin to cry. A few simply converse between each other, refusing to believe any of this is even real. Both Shanara and Wells stay silent, processing what they just heard in their own ways.
"Do you all want to fucking live?" Graham shouts, his brows furrowed. It's clear to see that he too is upset about this situation, but he knows that arguing is going to get them no where.
The crowd quietens and eventually one boy speaks up, "Yes."
"Then we are going to have to agree to the Grounders demands," Graham's jaw tightens. "Look, I hate this as much as you do but we have no choice. It's this or we're all dead."
"We can fight them," one girl says. "Why do we have to agree to their demands? We have as much right to be here as they do. We can fight for our freedom. We have guns, they only have knives."
"There are only eighty-seven of us," Clarke says. "The Grounders that attacked us before? That was only a tiny fraction of them, a small group from one clan. There are hundreds of Grounders, thousands. Yes, we have guns but our bullets will inevitably run out. Then what do we do? If we start this war, the Grounders will not stop until every single one of us are dead this time."
Slowly, it starts to dawn on the delinquents that their leaders are right. They have no choice.
"The Grounders have bigger problems than us. It's only recently that all twelve clans became allies. Before that, they were enemies at war with each other," Graham explains. "Eighty-seven of us are nothing to them. Half the clans don't even agree with the alliance but the Commander is going out of her way to negotiate peace. If we don't agree to the demands, that's it for us. This offer won't come around again."
"If we agree to the alliance," Clarke continues, "we won't have to fight anymore. We'll all be apart of the clans. We could actually start to live properly, not just scrape by anymore."
"Which twelve have to marry?" Wells asks when no one says anything.
"Essentially, the Commander wants to ensure that no uprisings happen between us after we're split up. So, she wants anyone that is a threat, anyone that could possibly start something, separated and married," Graham says. "The Commander wanted to hand pick the twelve herself but we negotiated and came to a compromise; three were chosen. As your leaders...Clarke and I have to marry Grounders. That leaves nine which have to volunteer, six girls and three boys. This is serious. Marriage is serious, so we've agreed that only those age sixteen and older can volunteer."
"Wait," Eric pipes up. "You said three were chosen. You and Clarke makes two, so who's the third?"
Clarke and Graham share a look but say nothing. Their attention drifts from Eric, over the seated teenagers and toward the back of the crowd. Everyone follows their gaze, turning to look over their shoulder, wherever they're seated.
The young doctor's own gaze is on the entrance to the woods. Her back is against the cold metal of the dropship and her one arm in a sling. Her long hair hangs over her shoulders for a change and her lab coat which was found in one of the medical containers, protects her from the cold breeze. She plays with a single piece of loose thread on the new trousers one of the girls had given her. Her clothes were in pieces after the fight with Ward. She took the cargo trousers and t-shirt given to her with a thanks and did not ask where they came from, fearing she already knew the answer. She listens intently to Clarke and Graham's words but her mind is still processing everything that they're saying. She wonders if the Grounders are out there in the trees, watching the delinquents having their meeting. Only when she notices the quiet around her does Shanara turn her gaze toward the crowd, finding everyone's eyes on her. For a moment, she doesn't understand why. Then, she remembers what was last said.
Quickly glancing at those in front of her, then at Wells, Shanara's eyes land on Clarke and Graham, "I'm not a threat."
"The Commander disagrees," Clarke frowns, her eyes apologetic.
"One of her demands is that the twelve who marry the Grounders must include the three of us, Shanara," Graham explains. "If you refuse, the alliance is off and we have no choice but to go to war."
Tightening her jaw, Shanara's eyes close in realisation. Sacrifice. Clarke meant arranged marriages. The young doctor has only kissed one boy in her entire life and now she's expected to wed a complete stranger? Shanara always figured she'd marry one day, far off in the future. If her husband was from Phoenix, he would give her his mother's wedding ring. If she married someone from Walden or Arcadia, Shanara would ask for her own mother's ring. Of course, she wouldn't approve at first if they were from one of the outer ships but eventually she'd be happy for her only daughter. Her mother would help her find a simple gown at the weekly Exchange and the young doctor would work extra hours on the medical deck to save up points, enough to pay for a nice reception with maybe a bit of cake. Her father would walk her down the aisle.
Lin Preston is dead though and Shanara's mother is up in the sky. She herself is on Earth. Marriage doesn't mean the same thing as it does on the Colony. Up in space, Shanara would marry for love. Down on the ground, the young doctor must marry to survive, to save everyone's lives. Twelve of them must. Refusal is not an option.
Laughing out loud at the situation she's in, Shanara looks at Clarke and Graham, "I guess I'm going to have to get in shape if I'm to make a beautiful bride."
No one is amused by her comment but it does affirm that the delinquents are in fact going to adhere to the Commander's demands. Clarke, Graham and Shanara share a frown before proceeding.
"That leaves nine," Clarke sighs.
"The Commander suggested you, Wells," Graham crosses his arms over his body.
Clarke's eyes go wide and she turns to him abruptly, shocked and obviously furious with her co-leader.
"That doesn't mean he has to volunteer, Graham," Clarke says through gritted teeth. "What the fuck, you swore you wouldn't say anything-"
"Look," Graham hisses in frustration, lowering his voice. "I know you're only trying to protect your little friend, but we're all being forced into this and if Wells-"
"Don't you think it's bad enough that we have to agree to these marriages?" Clarke spits back. "I am not going to let you drag Wells into this m-"
"I'll do it," a deep voice rings through the camp.
The two leaders stop arguing, turning to where the sound came from. Wells folds his strong arms over each other as he repeats himself, "I'll said I will do it. I'll marry a Grounder."
"Wells-" Clarke begins.
"He said he'll do it," Graham stops her. "That leaves eight."
Wells has always been Shanara's favourite Jaha. Perhaps it is unfair to choose between him and his father but she has always had an aversion to the latter, even before he sentenced her to death. She understands that as Chancellor of the Colony, Thelonious Jaha had to make so many difficult decisions however, there was always something about him that did not sit right with Shanara. Even before she can remember, she has always favoured his son. She once knew him very well, a long time ago. Unfortunately, before they all landed on Earth together, it had been months, maybe even a year since they last spoke. After Shanara finished school at age sixteen, she drifted away from both Clarke and Wells. It was difficult for Shanara. They had grown up around each other their entire lives. Shanara can still remember the days Wells would crawl around his home in nappies. Although there is only two years between them, up on the Colony, that two year age gap ripped their friendship apart. Wells would be in school, Shanara on the medical deck. They both tried to keep in touch but eventually it all stopped. Even now, they stand close to one another, strangers.
The boy that stands in front of her now is not the same boy she knew up on the Colony. Back then, he preferred the quiet and hardly ever spoke. He never chose to socialise, always being dragged to events by his father to do his duty as the Chancellor's son. That's all he was, the Chancellor's son. Wells Jaha was his father's shadow. Shanara half expected him to become some sort of trouble maker with all the pressure that was constantly placed on his shoulders. He never did though. Having been his friend, the young doctor saw the person that he grew up to be; a smart boy with a good temperament and a strict sense of doing the right thing. He would stand up for those in school that were bullied. He never used his father's power to influence others. Even down on Earth he would rather starve than see the young children go hungry. He dug the graves for their dead. Wells Jaha is much more than he was up on the Colony. He's stronger now, a better man than even his father.
A sad smile creeps onto Shanara's face as she watches Wells Jaha be the first to selflessly volunteer to be in an arranged marriage. She should have expected it, really. Even if Graham had not suggested it, there's no doubt in her mind that he would have volunteered anyways. Shanara finds herself praying that he will be happy one day. She hopes that they can all be happy with one day.
