Five Days Earlier
"Bellamy," Clarke shouted out of breath as he turned away.
"Clarke," he spun around to face her, "if this is one of those moments where you tell me to use my head."
Her hand grabbed his, and their eyes met. He'd kiss her if it weren't for the helmets they both wore.
"No, I was just going to say hurry."
"You too."
With that, he squeezed her hand, and they exchanged their I love you's. Clarke watched him disappear into the white forest with Monty before she turned her attention to Raven.
"You got it?" Raven asked, making sure Clarke remembered the steps.
"Junction box. Sat Star One. Green flash. Send. Run like hell."
"You know what to do. Radio if there's a problem."
If there's a problem, Clarke thought. There's always a problem.
Clarke took off in the direction of the tower. Only a mile, she told herself, but that mile seemed to be the longest one of her life.
Out of breath, she reached the satellite and dropped the bag from her shoulders into the snow.
Twelve minutes.
Clarke opened the junction box, only stopping to find search for Sat Star One. She crouched to the ground and pulled the bag to her. Her hands hurriedly rummaged through the black bag until she pulled the tablet and wires out. She placed the tablet on top of the box and plugged the wires into the correct slots.
She stood to look at the tablet waiting impatiently for it to work.
"Dish aligned."
The automated voice was quickly followed by a green flash, just as Raven said it would.
Clarke found the send button and pressed it.
"Raven, I got it. I'm headed back."
"Roger that."
She let out a short breath of relief before looking down at her watch.
Ten minutes.
She turned, leaving the bag on the ground, to run but stood frozen in her spot when she saw a man in a suit before her.
"Surprised to see me?"
"Emerson," Clarke said, half asking. The chills down her spine weren't from the cold snow.
"You killed every last one of my people."
"I was saving my people from yours."
"You and your friends may have survived that day in the airlock, but don't think you'll survive this one."
"So killing us is your way of revenge?"
"Oh no, this is my avenging my people. I've already gotten my revenge."
"What revenge?"
"Don't you remember that one night, months ago?" he added. He eased towards her, "Getting into the camp was easy, but getting past your little guards posted outside your door was more of a challenge."
"It was you."
"Of course it was."
"Where is she?"
"I haven't a clue. I got my revenge, and Azgeda offered me protection for the child."
"No," Clarke said, shaking her head. The very feelings she felt that night came rushing back as she collapsed to the ground in tears.
If Azgeda had her, surely, they had killed her as some sort of retaliation for Queen Nia's death or for joining the Coalition.
Why didn't she kill him that day in Polis when she had the chance? Maybe then, she and Bellamy would have their child. They wouldn't have spent that time apart.
Emerson watched as the woman before her hyperventilated in her suit. She was vulnerable, and that was his opportunity. With a knife in his hand, he lunged at her, but she quickly dodged him, causing him to fall flat on his face in the snow.
He pushed himself up and made a bee-line to the junction box, desperate to cut and rip out the wires.
"No!" Clarke shouted as she scrambled to her feet.
She fell forward crashing into the mountain man and tackled him to the ground.
He reached across the snow for the knife, slicing it against her lower calf muscle as she moved to kick it away from him.
Clarke fell to the ground and screamed aloud in pain from both her wound and the radiation seeping through the hole in her suit.
Emerson dropped the knife and crawled on top of her. He straddled her waist as his hands pressed firmly against her throat.
She struggled for the oxygen in her helmet and attempted to push him off of her, but it was no use. He was stronger than a her and much bigger.
The longer she fought back, distracting him, she thought, was more time for the rocket to take off, saving her husband and friends.
She shut her eyes and let a tear fall down her cheeks. She was ready to let go, to give up, but she couldn't.
Her fight was not over, not yet.
He destroyed her family, and she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of killing her husband and friends too. She refused to let him win.
She felt the handle of the blade hit the tip of her fingers, and she grasped it tightly, ramming it into Emerson's side.
Her attacker fell over as she crawled away from him gasping for oxygen in her mask. She stood over him placing her foot on his back and pushing him into the ground.
He wasn't getting away this time.
This was her kill, not Praimfiya's.
Clarke stood over his body and leaned down. She grabbed a handful of hair and pulled his head back before leaning down and sliding the blade across his neck.
Her attention turned to the sky as a white cloud followed the rocket into the atmosphere. The bloody blade fell from her hands, staining the white snow.
They were gone.
Clarke raised her wrists and studied the countdown on her wrist.
Eight minutes.
She spent the next eight minutes running for her life. She made it, barely, and scurried into Becca's lab, shutting the door behind her.
She ripped the helmet from her head and fell to the ground in a coughing fit. She rolled onto her side and continued cough blood up and onto the cold, white floor. Her eyes followed the staircase to the empty area where the rocket once sat.
Bellamy and the others were safe now. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.
She knew in that moment she was dying.
She could go now. Her fight was over.
"Ai gonplei ste odon. May we meet again," she muttered to herself as she slipped into a darkness.