This was one of my favourite chapters to write because of how vivid everything was in my head.

Warnings: violence and gore

Enjoy


Chapter 50: The World Around Us


Day 16 in the arena


Clarke felt numb. She knew she shouldn't have been forcing her emotions away – she knew she needed to grieve.

But she couldn't.

She was still a tribute in the arena and with every passing second, danger was growing closer.

Bellamy was dead.

Her heart still ached at that thought. Other than the pain in her chest, she felt numb. It was like her mind had gone silent.

Or, rather, she'd forced it to be silent.

She'd experienced heartbreak before; she wasn't a stranger to losses and death. She'd watched as friends died. She had lost more people that she loved than the amount which remained.

Her father. Wells. Charlotte. Raven. Monty. Lincoln. Murphy.

Now, Bellamy's name was added to that list.

She knew what it was like to love and lose. She knew what it was like to hold someone as they died; she did it with patients, she did it with Atom, she did it with Murphy, she did it with Bellamy.

She understood death more than most people her age would. She fought to try and prevent it, yet everyone she loved either betrayed her or was dead.

In that moment, Clarke felt like death followed her around like a cloud. She felt like death was a plague that hit anyone close to her.

She felt like the commander of death.

Maybe it was safer not to love anyone. At least that way, nobody would die. At least she would be spared this pain.

The thought was fleeting.

She didn't really want that.

She remembered Wells' words from only a few days before he was murdered.

She remembered trying to hold back from loving him. She didn't want to fall for him or care for him. She was scared. "It's like he holds a piece of my soul and… and I can't let him hold anymore. I can't let myself fall any more for him. I can't. Because he'll die, or I'll die. And then what? It'll all be for nothing."

"Love is never worth nothing," Wells told her. "Love is the reason why we fight. Love is the reason why we survive. Without love, we have nothing.

"Don't be afraid to love, Clarke. That pain afterwards? That's just a reminder that you were lucky enough to love them. The hole you feel when someone dies – that shouldn't be feared. That just proves that they were loved enough to leave an impact on someone. Don't be scared of the pain that'll come with losing him. Love passionately until the second you die – which could be at any moment. We're about to die – why stop yourself from being happy?"

He was right. Even weeks after he died, he was still leading her right and guiding her through her pain. Weeks after she lost him, it still felt like Wells was beside her, comforting her like he always did.

In a way, he was still with her. He would always be with her.

Just like everyone else she lost.

Jake.

Charlotte.

Luna.

Monty.

Lincoln.

Murphy.

Raven.

Bellamy.

She would gladly take this heartbreak for the next dozen years if it meant she got to know them. She wouldn't trade their time together for the world; not even a world without pain.

Because she loved them, and she got to love them. She loved him and got to love him. And, even though her heart was heavy and her body ached, she still loved him.

She remembered reading a quote back home, when she was studying still; 'How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.' That was in a children's book by A. A. Milne. She never fully appreciated the truth behind those words until that moment.

Still, she couldn't ignore the heaviness in her heart. The grief was drowning her. She felt like she hadn't come up for air in days.

Her eyes burned; she wasn't sure if it was from unshed tears or if it was because she'd been staring at the same point of the ceiling for what felt like hours.

She was numb and unfeeling. It was like she was still asleep.

She hoped she was still asleep. That meant she could still wake up; it meant that this could still only be a nightmare.

Octavia stirred beside her. Clarke wasn't entirely sure if Octavia had gotten any sleep the night before. She knew that she hadn't.

The two girls didn't speak. Clarke wasn't too sure what to say to her, exactly. They were both exhausted and emotionally spent. They sought comfort with each other the day before, and held each other through the night, but now, she wasn't too sure what to say.

They were the last two of their alliance. They were part of the final five in the arena.

District 1. District 2. District 5. District 6. District 10.

Onatri, Octavia, Clarke, Echo, Dax.

That was all that was left – just the five of them. Nineteen tributes had died before them.

That came with a burden Clarke didn't want to bear. She wasn't supposed to be here – she was supposed to have died weeks ago. She wasn't supposed to still be alive.

Why was she still alive, but so many other people – good people, people who deserved to win – weren't? Why did she survive until the final five, but Raven didn't? Why did she get to live longer, but Wells died so soon? Why did Murphy have to suffer, but she continued to breathe?

It wasn't fair. She never had a chance. They did. They all had a chance to become the Victor – they all had the opportunity to go back home, to get back to people they loved.

Wells could return to his dad.

Lincoln could go home to his sisters.

Raven could go back to her friends.

Monty could reunite with Jasper.

She thought a lot about them and their lives. While she didn't know them for long, she knew they all had people back home that loved them. She tried to imagine what they were like. In some ways, it made her feel closer to everyone she lost.

And then there was Octavia. Unlike her other allies, she knew Bellamy's family. She didn't know how close Monty was with Jasper, she didn't know how Lincoln's sisters reacted, she didn't know Raven's friends.

But she knew Octavia. She knew how close she was with Bellamy. She knew how she reacted when he died.

She was broken. It was as simple as that. She hadn't spoken a word since the previous night and that worried her.

Then again, maybe she was a hypocrite. She didn't dare speak, either.

What really worried her though was the fact she didn't move, not even to eat or drink. They didn't have a lot of supplies, but they had enough for the two of them for at least a few more days, especially if they rationed.

She needed to eat.

"Are you hungry?" Clarke asked, sitting up. Her head spun and ached. She was a hypocrite; she hadn't been drinking as much water as she needed. Between the crying and the heat, she'd lost a lot over the last few days.

Octavia didn't say anything. She was on her side, facing the wall, a knife twirling between her fingers. She looked emotionless and empty, like she wasn't truly there.

"Octavia?" Clarke pressed. "We need to eat." When she didn't respond again, she switched tactics. "We have some unopened packs of dried banana chips. That would be good, wouldn't it?"

She hesitated so long that Clarke was sure she wasn't going to say anything. Then, she let out a heavy breath. "Sure."

The tension in Clarke's shoulders dissipated and she reached into the bag by her feet for the fruit. While she didn't know Octavia like Bellamy knew her, she remembered them talking about fruit during one of those many nights on watch. They were from a southern district, which meant they had access to more fruit than Clarke could even imagine. She remembered him saying Octavia's favourite was banana.

She wished she knew what Bellamy's favourite fruit was.

Octavia sat up and took the package. Her face was poufy from all of the tears – Clarke assumed she looked the same. Losing Bellamy took a toll on both of them. He was the one who brought them together, he was the one that made them feel like they were home.

It was different without him. Colder, somehow.

Clarke made her way over to the corner where they dropped their bottles of water. It was where they dropped a lot of things, really. Bellamy's sword was there, as was hers. Then, there was Octavia's knives.

It was strange, having an abundance of supplies. She was so used to rationing all the time. It was what they had to do, with a group as big as theirs.

From nine tributes to two. They lost seven of their allies during the time in the arena.

Clarke tried to pretend the pattern on the hilt of Bellamy's sword was very interesting, trying to keep her thoughts from spiraling again.

She didn't have time. Octavia needed her. She was the only one left in the arena that Clarke could help win – she was the last of her allies. She already knew she wasn't going to become Victor. She wasn't surviving for herself. She was surviving for her.

Maybe that's why she survived until the end. Maybe it was because the Capitol wanted to see her suffer. Maybe this was all just penance for her crimes. Of course, they wouldn't let her have an easy death.

It wasn't the first time Clarke thought that.

"You want water?" she called over her shoulder, reaching for the bottle closest to her.

Just as she did, her world changed again.

She felt the floor shift underneath her and dust rain down from the ceiling. She could feel a rumble in her chest, almost like she was standing too close to an approaching train. It was like she was being shaken to her core.

Her hand was frozen, still outstretched towards the bottle of water. Her heart was racing as she tried to figure out what was going on.

The ceiling cracked. She could hear loud bangs and crashes coming from outside. The noises were getting louder. It was like a stampede was coming their way, knocking down the buildings like bowling pins.

It was Octavia who put the pieces together. "Earthquake!"

Clarke jumped out of the way as a piece of the concrete ceiling was dislodged from above her. It hit the floor where she crouched only a moment before, sending up a wave of dust. Her skin stung from the sharp pieces of rocks that were thrown at her.

She was facedown on the ground now, her forearms scratched from sliding across the dust and rubble. Her heart was racing and her chest was heaving.

That was close.

Octavia was beside her then, latched onto her arm. She pulled her up, helping her onto her feet. "We have to go!" she yelled, her eyes wide and panicked.

Clarke didn't realize how loud the noise had gotten until she tried to speak. She had to yell to even hear herself.

"Run!"

She pushed Octavia forward, sending her flying towards the door to the room they were staying at. Another piece of rubble – a larger piece – cracked away from the ceiling and smashed to the ground. The walls of the room were shaking now, the singular crack from earlier spider webbing into a mess.

Octavia reached forward and scooped up Clarke's sword from the ground, already running through the door. Clarke was hot on her heels. While Octavia had silently claimed Bellamy's sword the day before, it was now laying, partially buried under what was once the ceiling.

She reached between pieces of the rubble and pulled the sword free. Her other arm lifted up and cupped around her head, shielding herself from falling pieces.

Her eyes were burning from the dust. It felt like she was choking, too.

Clarke raced out of the room, only feet behind Octavia. She had to hurdle over large chunks of the building between the room and the outside. Twice, she had to lunge out of the way as a piece of something fell towards her.

The building was going to collapse. While she wasn't as skilled as Raven when it came to design and structure, Clarke didn't have to be to realize this wasn't good. Pieces were falling to the floor, the walls were turning to dust, her whole body vibrated from the building.

Clarke burst through the front door. She was momentarily stunned as the sun hit her eyes, but she continued running forward. If her suspicions were correct, then the building was going to come down behind her. They both needed to be as far away as possible when that happened.

Octavia must've stopped as soon as she escaped the collapsing hallway. Clarke caught her wrist as soon as she was beside her and began to pull her along.

The two of them raced from the building and down the cobblestone street. All around them, pieces of buildings were raining down like water in a storm.

The whole city was coming down.

Clarke realized this with a start. She glanced all around her and was terrified to see all of the buildings crumbling. A few blocks away, a tall building was already crumbling in on itself, a cloud of dust spreading like a tidal wave.

"Where do we go!?" Octavia screamed, pulling Clarke's arm. "We-"

She was cut short when Clarke pushed her forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she seen a piece of mildew covered concrete falling from the sky, heading right for them. Clarke shoved Octavia out of the way and she dove in the opposite direction.

The rubble hit the ground between them, sending pieces of shrapnel everywhere. Clarke let out a grunt as several pieces were lodged along the back of her legs.

She was bleeding. Thankfully, they were all superficial wounds. She couldn't be sure about the wounds along her back, but the scrapes along her arms were all fairly minor.

Clarke didn't have time to think about anything else except surviving.

She rolled onto her feet again, coughing wildly from the dust in the air. She lifted her arm up and pressed her inner elbow against her mouth, desperate to filter some air.

"Octavia!" She pulled her arm back to yell for the Blake. She hoped she managed to push her out of the way quick enough and far enough away.

The buildings were coming down faster now, and more frequently. The one they had been hiding out in let out an ear-piercing crack before it began to cave in on itself. Another wave of dust hit her, making her feel like she was suffocating.

"Octavia!"

Clarke stumbled around the large piece of rubble that now separated them. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as her eyes tried to rid themselves of the debris in the air.

She felt sick. She felt dizzy. She was still disoriented from having dove out of the way, but she felt like her balance was off too. The ground was still shaking.

Clarke knew this was generated by the Gamemakers back in the Capitol. This was one of their ways to force tributes together and to entertain the sponsors.

A canon sounded and she felt her heart stop. Please. Please, no. She was terrified that the canon was Octavia. Please not another friend.

She finally climbed around and over the piece of rubble. Her eyes kept scanning the sky. She was terrified by the fact a piece of building could come out of anywhere and kill her.

She caught sight of Octavia and a wave of relief crashed into her. She felt herself cry harder at that. She was on the ground still, but she was alive and all that mattered. She looked almost grey from all the dust that covered her. Even her hair, which was a brilliant black, was grey.

It reminded Clarke of winter, when a snowstorm would blow in. When she walked home from school and caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window, snowflakes stuck to every inch of her body.

Most shocking was the blood that ran down Octavia's arm. It was made even more terrifying in contrast to the dust on her body.

Whoever the canon belonged to, it wasn't Octavia. That was all that mattered in that moment. Another tribute must've got caught in the falling buildings. She hoped it was Ontari.

Octavia pulled back her left hand from her upper right arm, grimacing as the amount of blood pouring down her arm increased. Clarke could see a piece of rubble lodged into her bicep. She didn't know how big it was, or how deep it went, but it must've been painful.

Shit. They didn't have time for this.

The two of them locked eyes. "We have to move!" Octavia shouted. Clarke couldn't agree more.

Clarke helped her to her feet and took off running. More and more dust filled the air. It was terrible. Even as she covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, it was nearly impossible to breathe.

They had to get away from the buildings. Those were the biggest danger. They were collapsing – all of them. She could see a few blocks in front of her now; just like behind her, those buildings were tumbling down. She watched in horror as one didn't collapse in on itself like the others; it toppled to its side, knocking down several others like dominos.

Nothing was safe – not here. She could barely feel her legs now from the vibrations. Buildings were falling over, rubble was raining from the sky, dust was choking.

"The forest!" Clarke yelled over her shoulder.

She made a beeline east, heading towards the closest edge of the city. They only had to run a few blocks before they would be in the field that surrounded the city. That was the goal. The less stuff trying to kill them, the better.

Clarke kept a hand on Octavia as they ran. They had to stay together. They almost got separated already by the falling piece of building – they couldn't leave each other's side. Not now. Not when she promised Bellamy she would take care of her – not when she promised herself that Octavia would be the one to win.

They had to get away from tall buildings.

Now.

Clarke yanked Octavia to the left, pulling her out of the way of a smaller chunk of cement that fell from above.

She recognized this area. She ran here once before, a week and a half ago. She was with Bellamy at the time and it had been raining (water, not rubble). That was the day they almost died at the Cornucopia.

They were close to the north of the city now. She didn't know how the hell they got this far up – weren't they headed east?

Clarke didn't care.

"Follow me!" Clarke ordered, racing ahead of Octavia.

More buildings were coming down. More debris was falling.

Her head was spinning. Her heart was racing.

She couldn't breathe.

Finally, they burst onto a very familiar street. Octavia must've recognized it too, as she let out a startled gasp.

This was the street the thrift store was located. This was where Bellamy and Clarke had camped out, all those days ago, the day before they lost all their allies. This was where Murphy died. This was where Clarke left them.

The buildings were lower now, but they weren't out of the danger. She still couldn't breathe. The ground was still rumbling. She was disoriented.

The dust clung to them like spider webs, making it impossible to get clean air. She could see the cloud spread forward too, headed into the forest that met the city. They needed to get away from all the dust – they needed to find clean air.

Almost as important as that, they needed to get the dust off of them. She imagined that even if they managed to escape the large dust cloud, the dust that stuck to them would make breathing impossible.

Water.

She promised herself she would never go back to a pond again, but that was the only place Clarke could think of at the moment. It was the pond that Octavia had been to, when she was collecting the seaweed to try and save Murphy.

If they could make it there, they could jump into the water and get the dust off. Maybe they'd be able to breathe better then.

She made up her mind. She knew what lurked in the water, but her fear of suffocation trumped that.

It wasn't too far of a run to the pond. The ground stopped rumbling, too, which made staying upright easier. As they got closer to the water, Octavia must've realized what she was planning on doing.

"Clarke! The mutts!"

"I know." It was almost impossible to speak. Her mouth tasted like chalk. "It's our only option! We need to get this dust off of us – we need to breathe." Octavia made a noise of agreement. "Stay close to the edge. Be fast!"

Clarke jumped into the water as soon as she was close enough. She was so desperate to wash away the dust that made it nearly impossible to breathe that she didn't even think of letting go of her sword in that moment.

She hit the bottom of the pond, having jumped into the shallow end. Mud flew up around her, turning the water murky. As she was below the surface, she heard Octavia jump in beside her.

She broke the surface, gasping for breath. It was easier to breathe, if only by a bit. The air was dusty – she knew that would be the case for miles – but it wasn't as bad as inside the city.

Clarke turned towards the city, her heart still racing.

Rather, she turned to where the city used to be.

It was gone now.

Buildings were still toppling over in the distance, but it was clear that nothing would be left standing.

Clarke could still feel a thin layer of dust covering her face, so she dunked her head back under water. With the one hand not clutching Bellamy's sword, she scrubbed her skin and her hair, desperate to shake the dust from it.

She glanced over to the side while she was underwater, looking towards the centre of the pond. Just like the other pond she had been in, this one seemed to drop off quickly and turn black. She knew what was beyond that ledge; the decomposing bodies of Capitol mutts.

That thought was enough to get her out of the water.

She hauled her body onto the shore, her chest heaving. Between running and the panic, plus not being able to breathe from the dust, her lungs were burning and her head was spinning.

Octavia pulled herself onto the shore beside her. Her arm was still bleeding heavily and she clutched it. Clarke rolled onto her side to examine it.

It was deep, like she feared. She hated thinking it, but it looked like it would be better to leave the rock in her arm. She knew it must've been painful for Octavia, but pulling out a projectile in that shape and that deep would cause major problems. She knew she could stop the blood flow without suturing it up, and they had abandoned all of their supplies back in the building.

The building that was now destroyed.

Clarke let out a tiny laugh – one of irony – as she rolled onto her back again. Not even an hour ago, she was thinking about how much supplies they had.

Shit.

They'd have to start from scratch. Now, the Cornucopia was not accessible. It was in the centre of the city; she doubted it would've survived the earthquake and all of the falling debris. Even if it did, she didn't think there would be a way to access it.

All they had were their two swords and the clothing they wore. That was it. They had abandoned all food, water, weapons, and medical equipment back in the room.

Clarke tried to explain to Octavia that she couldn't do anything about her arm – not yet, at least. "Maybe if we find some medical equipment," she offered. Octavia didn't seem too impressed.

"Just yank it out, Clarke. I don't scream."

"That's not the point," she insisted.

Octavia frowned. "Well, it hurts like hell. I'm going to pull it out."

Her hand shot out, taking Octavia's and holding it away from the wound. "Don't. I won't be able to stop the bleeding."

"Well, let's hope Dax, Echo or Ontari also got hit with rubble and aren't as smart as you," she commented, wincing as she tried to lift her arm. "This is my sword arm, you know. This is really shitty."

Clarke tried not to show her fear. "It'll be fine. I'm sure you won't need to fight anyone, anyways."

"Right," Octavia said dryly. "Because we aren't the final five and the Capitol didn't just fucking destroy half the arena to force all the remaining tributes together."

Clarke's hands went numb at that.

Shit.

She was right.

"It'll be fine," she assured her, lying between her teeth. "Just… Stay close."

It turned out that it was most definitely not fine.

Clarke and Octavia were both soaked from their jump in the pond. Her clothing stuck to her in the most uncomfortable ways. At least when she last was in the pond, she wasn't wearing any clothes. Now, she was wet and freezing and miserable.

Just when Clarke thought things couldn't get any worse, it did.

A branch snapped from behind the two women. Clarke's heart froze.

Someone was there.

She realized it a second too late. A knife came soaring out from between the branches, spiraling through the air. It missed both Clarke and Octavia by a longshot. It flew into the water with a splash and sank below the surface.

Clarke turned around to see where the knife came from.

She was expecting Ontari, if she was being honest. She'd always had an obsession with the two of them and it just seemed like an Ontari-thing for her to be here now, attacking them once again.

Clarke was almost glad it was Dax instead.

Her grip tightened on Bellamy's sword and her heart rate once again skyrocketed. This was the first time she'd seen Dax in the arena and she briefly wondered where he was during the last two weeks.

His temple must've been hit with a piece of debris, as a thin stream of blood trickled down the side of his head and down his neck. Other than that small injury, he seemed fine.

Perfect.

He must've been hiding out in the city. He was covered in dust, just like Octavia was a few minutes ago. Unlike her though, he wasn't majorly injured.

Actually, he looked ready for a fight. He looked bloodthirsty. He clutched an axe in his hands. The tip glinted from the sunlight and Clarke had to squint to see it. The blade was sharper than anything she'd ever seen. She had to wonder if he spent the last two weeks sharpening it.

For a brief moment, the three tributes stood silently in a triangle. Clarke had Bellamy's sword lifted into the ready position he taught her, while Octavia held her sword with her left hand. She looked awkward and clumsy already, and she hadn't started moving.

This wasn't good. While it was only Dax, Clarke remembered watching him during training and thinking how terrifying he looked with the axe. He was large enough to crush Cage with his bare hands, which was saying a lot.

Even worse, he seemed to only have eyes for Octavia. He was glaring at her, his nostrils flared. She couldn't protect herself if he attacked her.

Oh, no.

Oh, shit.

"Clarke," he said. She halted momentarily, too stunned that he knew her name. She never heard him speak before, either. His voice was low and scratchy. Then again, that could have been from the dust.

Her surprise must've been the reaction he was hoping for. As soon as she lowered her weapon the slightest bit, he charged. He wasn't heading for her though; he was headed for Octavia.

No.

She couldn't fight – not like that, not with her arm still bleeding.

Clarke charged forward, her sword outstretched to meet his axe. As she did, she realized she had no idea what the hell she was doing.

She'd never fought someone without a sword before. She'd seen Monty use axes before, but he never fought anyone. She didn't know how Dax fought – she didn't know how to match his blows.

It was too late to think of a different plan.

Her sword collided with the curved edge of his axe. It banged right off of her blade, and slipped off of it. That wasn't what she was used to.

Dax must've been anticipating that, as he sidestepped and continued to move forwards. He was still headed to Octavia.

While she looked like she as ready for a fight, Clarke knew the truth. She wouldn't be able to defend herself.

"Go!" Clarke screamed. She could already see how this was going to play out. Dax was going to keep coming, over and over, until he reached Octavia. She couldn't keep him away from a target so close.

If she was further away, that would be a different story. She'd have more time to take Dax down before he ever reached her.

Octavia needed to get out. She needed to run – to get to safety. Once she killed Dax, she could join her.

"What-"

"Go!"

She slashed her sword through the air and the tip caught the edge of Dax's elbow. He snarled and turned to face her. Good.

Octavia didn't budge.

Dax charged at her, his axe high in the air. Clarke lifted her blade just in time to defend it.

"I'll find you later," she promised. Clarke grunted as the axe swung down on her, hard. She was stunned briefly. Even though the blade never touched her, each blow to her sword still felt like an impact. "Run!"

Protect Octavia. Protect Octavia. Protect Octavia.

Clarke didn't have time to watch Octavia to see her run away. She hoped that she was smart enough to listen to her and get out. If she stuck around, things would only be worse.

Dax snarled as he swung his axe through the air. Clarke didn't lift her blade to meet it this time, she stepped backwards and rolled to the side, missing him completely.

He was thrown off balance by not hitting her, but he righted himself before Clarke could use it to her advantage. While he was distracted, she glanced away from him.

She could see Octavia's back disappearing into the trees. Relief flooded her.

It was short lived. Clarke jumped out of the way of another swing from Dax, wincing when the tip of the blade caught her bicep. She could feel warm blood trickle onto her arm. Goose bumps erupted across her skin.

She didn't know how long she could keep this up. She was exhausted from running from the city, she was dizzy from the shifting ground, and she couldn't find an advantage on him.

She was out of her element fighting against a different weapon. Bellamy only taught her how to fight against swords – all the steps he taught he was based around a sword. He taught her where to stand, how far away to move, how the blade could curve through the air. He taught her how to defend herself against a straight blade, not a curved. She knew how people moved in combat when they swung a sword, not an axe.

She tried to calm herself as she blocked blow after blow.

This wasn't any different, not really. He was still flesh, blood and bones. He was still only human.

(He was still human.)

She could figure out a weakness of his, she could use it to her advantage. It didn't have to be different than what Bellamy taught her. Right? If she didn't want it to be different, it didn't have to be.

Clarke could tell that he wasn't completely balanced when he swung. Both of his hands were on the hilt of the axe, which meant his body moved from right to left. He was always shifting his weight from the right foot to the left.

Okay. Good. Bellamy always taught her to keep her legs bent and her weight evenly distributed, otherwise it would be easy to knock them over. She could use this.

Without a second thought, Clarke charged forward. She'd been here before; once during training, another time at the cave. If she could throw her opponent off balance, she could have the upper hand.

She shoved her blade against the hilt of his axe, having stepped inside his swinging zone. Her blade hooked under the curve of the axe, locking it to her weapon and making it obsolete.

His eyes were wide. He was panicked.

She stepped closed to him again, pushing her chest right up to his. Her foot hooked behind his ankle and-

Pain.

White, searing hot pain.

She gasped and her eyes flew open. Her body went completely rigid.

She couldn't think. It felt like her brain had short wired; almost like she dropped a toaster into the kitchen sink.

All she could think of was the burning pain in her stomach.

Bellamy's sword slipped from her grip, sending it falling to the ground. Clarke blinked wildly as she looked up at Dax's eyes.

He was grinning.

Her brain was foggy, but she could understand what was happening. He stabbed her. His one hand – the hand that she wasn't paying attention too because it didn't hold the axe – held a knife that was plunged into her torso.

His axe was on the ground, too; somehow it had become dislodged during their fight. Or maybe he dropped it. She didn't remember.

His hand came up to rest on her shoulder, almost like they were two old friends reuniting.

Then, in one fluid motion, he twisted the knife and yanked it out.

The pain tripled.

She couldn't stand anymore and she crumpled to the ground. Her lungs refused to work. It felt like she had been dunked into a bucket of ice water; her whole body had froze up around her. She couldn't remember how to breathe.

Her fingers pressed into the wound desperately, trying to hold the blood inside of her. It slipped out between her fingers and ran down her wrist, dripping into the grass below.

This was it. This was the end. She knew she wouldn't be able to come back from this – not without a medic and not without medical supplies.

She was dying.

A numbness descended on her.

Dax was walking away, leaving her for dead. She still couldn't breathe. She couldn't call out for Octavia to run. She couldn't warn her that she failed.

Her mind was going fuzzy. She felt cold. All of her heat drained from her body alongside her blood.

Dax was feet away from her now, his back towards her. He was bending down to pick up his perfectly sharpened axe. He was already looking north, in the direction that Octavia ran.

No.

She wouldn't let him get to her. Octavia was her last friend – her last promise. She promised to protect her. She promised she wouldn't rest until she was Victor.

No.

She could taste blood on her tongue now, and she knew that wasn't a good sign. He must've hit an organ or two when he stabbed her.

She was going to die.

But, when he was straightening up, the axe in his hand, all of that faded away. She didn't care about her pain, or how cold she was. She didn't feel her fear, even though she was absolutely terrified of death.

All she felt was the desperate need to protect someone she loved.

With a scream, Clarke lunged off the ground, throwing herself at Dax's unbalanced and unprepared body. She wasn't sure where the energy came from – maybe it was her last surge before she died, she wasn't sure.

He went tumbling forward from her momentum. Her hands were locked around his neck, but her grip was weak. She could feel the blood pouring from her stomach and down her legs, now.

It didn't matter – not anymore.

They were tipping forward, right into the pond.

Her world tilted sideways. She felt like she was dying, or falling, or dreaming.

Water rushed up her nose when they hit the surface. She sputtered as she tried to replace the water in her throat with air. Her hands were still pathetically locked around his neck.

He tried to shake her off of him. He almost did. He was so much stronger and healthier than her in that moment.

Her legs wrapped around his middle. If she wasn't so close to dying, she would've found it funny. It looked like he was giving her a piggyback ride, like they were merely children playing a game.

Her fingers dug into his throat, desperately clawing at it.

They both were out of weapons. He must've dropped his axe when they were falling into the pond and she imagined it was already at the bottom of it. She left Bellamy's sword on the shore, still sitting in the grass from where she dropped it when she got stabbed.

His hands were on top of hers now, trying to pry her fingers away from his windpipe. She begged herself to muster up some more strength, to just crush it, but she couldn't. Or wouldn't. She wasn't sure. Her head was too fuzzy to tell the difference between impossible and morally wrong.

He must've realized he wasn't getting anywhere with her hands. He swung his head back, smashing the back of his skull into her nose.

Her mouth filled with more blood. From the shock, she let go of him completely. Her legs unhooked from his torso and she didn't have to contemplate crushing his windpipe anymore.

Her hands flew to her face, and another ripple of pain passed through her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

She was going to die.

His hands were on her throat now. They were clumsy, like he didn't know what he was doing.

Clarke wasn't done. She was going to fight until every piece of life left her. She wasn't giving up easily. She wound up her arm, and, just as she was about to swing her fist to his nose, she felt it.

Cold fingers wrapped around her ankle. Nails dug into her skin, hooking into their prey.

He must've felt a hand wrap around his leg too, since he went completely still. The hands around her neck went slack, and his eyes widened with horror.

He locked eyes with hers. For a second that seemed to last an eternity, they stared at each other.

He looked terrified.

She smiled.

Gotcha.

Then, they were dragged underwater. She went willingly.

This was part of her plan; get him in the water and let the hands drag them to the bottom of the pond. Get him in the water so he could drown.

The only problem with her plan was that she was going to have to drown too.

It didn't bother her as much as it should have. Some part of her brain registered the fact that she was already dying from all the blood she lost. If she was already dying, what did it matter how she went?

Besides, if this was the only way Octavia could survive, she would be okay with that. She'd sacrifice herself a million times over, if it meant saving someone she loved.

As she was dragged to the bottom of the pond, she thought of the whole situation. She was so willing to die for others, yet all of her friends died. Wells. Monty. Lincoln. Raven. Murphy. Bellamy. They all died, even though she had been willing to die for them.

Not this time, though. She would die for Octavia.

And she was okay with that.

Dax flailed above her, still attempting to fight the dead hands off. She could see the panic in his eyes as more and more hands collapsed onto him, dragging him further and further below the surface.

While she was limp as she was dragged down, he fought with everything in him. He kicked and he screamed and he thrashed.

Even though she was calm, her heart was racing. Her lungs were burning already. She could feel the pressure of the water on her ears and pain radiated through her whole body. The water around her was red from her blood.

That attracted more dead hands. She tried to stay by Dax. She was going to use this to her advantage – she was going to use the wound he gave her against him.

The water was cold again, just like it was that day. And it was dark. She didn't know if it was just murky or if it was because sunlight couldn't reach this far down.

She could still see Dax though – she made sure to stay beside him the whole time. She could still see the hands she once feared – the flesh all grey and rotting, the nails yellow and sharp, the bones brittle and green.

When she hit the bottom of the pond, she was barely holding on to consciousness. Black spots danced in her vision, her head spun, her thoughts were quiet. Was she dying from blood loss, or was she passing out from the lack of oxygen?

It didn't matter.

She was dying.

She always knew this time would come. She always knew that she'd die in the arena – she knew that nearly a month ago. And, she was okay with it. She didn't want to die – no, if she had the option, she would still be back home, and she would still be living, not drowning.

But she was okay with dying, as long as Octavia lived.

The sunlight was hitting something shiny at the bottom of the pond. While it was nearly impossible to see anything else down there, she could see a silver blade.

Dax's knife. That was the knife he threw at her when he was entering the clearing. It missed both her and Octavia and splashed into the pond.

Maybe luck was on her side today. (Even though she was dying, which she considered fairly unlucky.)

She still only had a single dead hand wrapped around her ankle, while Dax had half a dozen holding his limbs to the muddy ground. Maybe it was because he was still fighting them.

She picked up the knife and drifted over to where Dax lay. He looked hopeful for a second, like he believed she was going to save him with that single knife. He looked at her, like she was going to fight away all the monsters for him.

But he was the monster.

She shoved the blade into his heart. His eyes widened and his body went rigid, both from shock and from death looming over him.

Hands shot out of the mud, reaching for both her and him. The extra blood must've woken them up.

She was pulled towards the ground, her back hitting the slimy mud once again. She stared up at the surface, desperate to catch one more glimpse of the sky before she died. It was distorted by the water, but she could see it.

It was a beautiful day to die.

Seconds later, when she heard the canon faintly, she thought maybe she died. Her brain was too foggy to realize that it was Dax's canon.

Dax was dead.

Her vision was fading out now. The edges were tinted black. Her eyelids were heavy; just as heavy as the rest of her body. With that canon, it was like the remainder of her energy was drained away.

She was bleeding. She was drowning. She was dying.

A second canon rang out and she knew her fate was sealed.

When the darkness came to consume her, she was okay with going.

And so she went.


Confused? That's okay! Things should become clearer in the next chapter.

To clarify, there were three canons in this chapter. The first canon was when Clarke and Octavia were still in the city, but they don't know who it belonged to. I'll tell you out-right that it was Echo. I never wrote it into the fic, but I head-canoned this death to be due to the fact she was hiding high up in a building (the perfect spot for her archery). She didn't have enough time to get down to the ground and run.

TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are characters that died in the current chapter. If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!
District 1 Female: Ontari
District 2 Female: Octavia
District 5 Female: Echo
District 6 Female: Clarke
District 10 Male: Dax

The next update will be on Monday, April 22! And then the final chapter will be here on April 23! If you follow me on any social media, you would know I'm extremely sentimental, so be prepared for a long message at the end of chapter 52!

Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated. Since I'm curious, I'd loooooove to know your theories regarding this chapter!