Trigger warnings for trauma, violence, betrayal, domestic violence, historical pedophilia and racism and abuse, and mentions of someone trying to coerce another person into sex, and murder of one's spouse, and for mentions of Disney movie racism-specifically in Peter Pan-towards Native Americans.

Warriors of the Valley

Chapter 19-General Griffin and Sergeant Williams

Within the grounds of what used to be Disneyworld, the group of eleven walked through the no longer bright and busy amusement park, eyeing the many stone figures of the apparently "sleeping" creatures that were gargoyles. They had been given warnings from the human guards that gargoyles could be damaged in their sleep, so none of the group were to touch any of the stone figures-for fear that some of their gargoyle comrades would be harmed as they slept.

Clarke had given Jasper, Monty, Finn, Harper, Fox, Pascal and Trina a very deadly look when she had told them outright not to touch any of the gargoyles in stone, and the look alone cowed the rest of the group into not going near those stone figures.

When the group reached one ride that Jasper and Fox both had been mumbling about happily, the Peter Pan one, they pleaded to go inside. Clarke had rolled her eyes, turned to the guards and asked them if they could go in. The guards said it was alright, but just that they were not to damage anything inside.

Clarke gave the rest of the group permission and Jasper, Monty, Finn, Harper and Fox almost immediately ran inside.

Clarke snorted, about to go after them when Pascal spoke up, "Wait a sec," He said, urging for Trina to follow the others. As she did and went inside, leaving her boyfriend for now, Pascal turned to Clarke who now had his attention. Pascal glared. "Alright," He said, trying to sound authoritative, "What's going on? Explain. Why are you so distrustful? Why does it seem like you're hiding something from the rest of us?"

Clarke eyed him and next to her, Wells, Monroe and Niylah all tensed.

"What makes you think I'm hiding anything?" Clarke asked, her tone clearly mocking as she smirked at him.

Pascal shook his head. "You can't fool me." He said, "There's something wrong here. I thought at first that the way you act is because of some severe council's children training," He then nodded to Wells, "But that doesn't work. Not if you look at Jaha, here. He's not like you. I'm sorry, Griffin, but he's not scary. And he's…well, nice."

Clarke snorted, "What, you wanted me to be your cuddly best friend? Is that what'll make you happy?"

Pascal shook his head. "No, no, sorry," He said quickly, "That's not what I mean. I'm not asking you to be nice and polite or anything. It's just that I know that some rigorous council training isn't what got you this way. It's something else. I want to know what it is." Pascal stared at Clarke and Clarke stared right back at him coldly.

Pascal then sighed and asked, "Okay, then, Griffin, I'm gonna ask you something. Am I wrong in thinking that you'd kill all seven me, Trina, Finn, Harper, Fox, Monty and Jasper, if we do anything to jeopardize the Ark coming down and all our people coming down safely?"

Clarke's eyebrows raised and then she shook her head. "No." She answered. "Seven lives do not outweigh all the lives on the Ark. So no. You are not wrong."

Pascal almost shivered at Clarke's confirmation. So he had been right. Clarke was all about the mission. She was determined to bring everyone down safely. No matter what.

This was slightly chilling. But it was also reassuring. Clarke was on their peoples' side. And she very likely was their best hope of surviving on the ground.

"That's what I thought," Pascal said, nodding. "Then tell me what's going on." He pushed. "You're on the side of our people. Of the Ark. I want them to come down safely too. So let me help. Please, let me help."

At Pascal's pleading words, Clarke frowned, looking troubled. Wells and Monroe looked at each other, then at Clarke. Niylah eyed Clarke, but her eyes shifted back to Pascal, never leaving him until Clarke spoke.

"And I should trust you, why?" Clarke asked.

Pascal heaved out a breath. And there that particular issue was. Whatever it was. Clarke didn't trust people. Why, Pascal didn't know.

Pascal thought about promising her his loyalty, but he knew that that would do nothing. If Clarke was this distrustful, then things like a promise would mean nothing to her. She most likely had heard her fair share of promises. Most likely all of those very promises had been broken. Which was likely how Clarke had gotten this way.

So no. Promises to Clarke, Pascal was sure, were air. Were empty. Were as pointless as shreds of paper.

No. Clarke needed something more solid and reassuring than some empty promise.

Pascal said, glancing at the Luwoda human guards that were far away and turned back to Clarke, Wells, Monroe and Niylah. And he began to speak, deciding to give more, than just some promise. He began, "When I was younger, on the Ark, my parents…they fought a lot. We were working class and all that. And my mom, she knew how unfair the payments we got next to those of high class got. But she would have done anything for our people. Almost all of the Ark is made up of working class. Farmers, clothes makers, water recyclers, electricians and so on. And she wanted the best for them as much for her own family. But my dad?" Pascal grimaced, "My old man was a piece of work. He was resentful. He didn't just feel like his people had been fucked over. He felt like he personally had been fucked over. And so he took his anger out on anyone he could. He actually said that he was fine with the whole Ark burning if that meant that he was paid more." Pascal shook his head, disgusted.

Pascal nodded and continued, "My dad, Henry…he eventually smothered my mom, Cynthia to death. With a pillow. In their bed. That was the kind of weak, resentful man my old man was." He watched as Clarke, Wells and Monroe's eyes all widened. Niylah tilted her head, listening close now. Pascal continued, "So I ran away. I didn't care if I ended up dead in some alleyway. I didn't care if I got arrested, which I did, obviously. But I just wanted to get away from that bastard. I wanted to follow the dreams of my mother. Serve the people. But some part of me?" Pascal nodded, "You know, some part of me, just wanted to hurt my old man. So I stole resources and brought them to other lower class people. On one of these trips, this is when I met Trina. Eventually both of us were arrested. Three years after I ran away from home. And now we're here."

Pascal then looked at Clarke hard, "If you're not going to believe me when I say that I am loyal because I want to help our people, then believe me when I say I want to hurt that old man of mine back on the Ark. I don't want him to have a single bit of happiness after what he did, after what my mother and my life was with him."

Pascal had told Clarke the truth. All of it. The sting of his mother's murder at his father's hands still hurt. The worst of it had been because his father had killed his mother with a pillow, the death had looked natural or accidental. His father had never been punished for the murder.

Clarke stared at him for a few seconds, she then took a breath and said, "You know that if you do anything to endanger the rest of the Ark coming down, I'll kill you." Her eyes darkened even more and added, "I'll kill Trina first and make you watch. Then I'll kill you."

Pascal shivered at the promise. Shit. Whatever Clarke might have thought of promises, Pascal believed Clarke's promise when she said it. He was positive that she meant it when she said that she'd kill Trina in front of him if he endangered the Ark's people, and then would kill him.

He nodded. "Understood." He said quietly. "But you can trust me."

Clarke snorted quietly, "We'll see, won't we?" She then tilted her head slightly, making her neck crack. She then asked calmly, "What do you want to know?"

Pascal hesitated and looked at her again and said, "The truth. Please. What happened to you? Why don't you trust anyone? What the HELL happened to you?"

Clarke eyed Pascal again. Wells, Monroe and Niylah then looked at Clarke, questions in their eyes. Clarke answered, "I don't think I trust you enough to give you a full answer. Not all of it. But I'll give you some information. Firstly, we now all know that creatures that aren't human exist, right?"

Pascal nodded. "Yeah," He said, offering a laugh-that part, the part about creatures turning to stone during the day and ripping out of that stone shell at night, still was a lot to take in. "I'm still absorbing that craziness."

Clarke nodded. "So therefore," She began, "If there's something that strange that exists, I need you to withhold your disbelief about the part that I'm about to tell you. Okay?"

Pascal nodded. "Okay." He said, ready for what Clarke was about to tell him.

Clarke said, eyeing him still with suspicion, "Time travel."

Pascal blinked at this reaction. What?

He waited for more and Clarke eventually answered, "Time travel," She repeated. "Of a kind. I don't know how exactly. Things that happened before, in another timeline. I was betrayed a lot in that other timeline. By Grounders. By the Commander of the Grounders who handed us off to an enemy and acted like it meant nothing. By our own people. By my own mother. So I got angry. Distrusting. Finally I got betrayed and that betrayal led to my death. Bellamy got me to trust him and he betrayed me. He allowed someone to shoot me. I got shot in the head and now I'm here. So I trust no one now."

Clarke smirked at the surprise and confusion in Pascal's eyes. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Pascal's eyes widened, but he said nothing.

Clarke then scoffed, "That's what I thought."

Pascal then said, "Time travel? And…wait, you died?"

Clarke nodded. "Yes," She answered, "Murdered. A bullet through the back of the head."

Pascal swallowed, looking mildly sickened by what he had just heard. Clarke snickered and said, "I don't know how I remember everything from the last timeline. I thought it had to do with me having been killed. But it wasn't that. After all, I don't remember seeing you or Trina later on in the timeline. Which means that both you and Trina died very early when we first got to the ground. So yeah, you and Trina died in this other timeline. But you two remember nothing. So there goes that theory." She then nodded to Wells as Pascal paled, "Wells died too. But he doesn't remember anything."

Pascal turned to Wells, feeling something cold circling his heart. He just felt cold right now. This girl was telling him that he and Trina had died. And had been the first of the people to die."

Clarke said, her grin animal like, "Does it get your rocks off? Knowing that Wells, the son of Thelonius Jaha, was also killed, just like the rest of you?"

Pascal stepped back, stunned. He then looked to Wells. Then to Monroe. Then to Niylah. None of them looked like they were smirking or about to burst out laughing. Whatever this was, this was not a joke.

He then looked to Wells. "You died?" He asked weakly.

Wells nodded. "I don't remember," He said, "But I believe Clarke and Monroe when they said that I died. That I was killed. By one of the 100. A little girl. Charlotte. We saw her before we left. That little girl we saw before we took off."

Pascal then thought about that little girl that had tried to follow after them that Clarke had told to go find food away from the dropship. Pascal shivered. Oh, right. He had forgotten.

"That girl killed you?" He asked, stunned.

Wells nodded, "Yeah. Apparently she stabbed me in the neck."

Pascal swallowed. Shit.

Clarke snickered, "Don't worry, that girl's dead. She won't be hurting anyone anymore."

Pascal stared at her, startled. What?

Clarke stared at him coldly, a smirk crossing her face and she said, "This is the next part that I hope you don't get too upset about. As I said, I was in the other timeline, and Charlotte killed my friend. She died in the other timeline anyway, but I intended to stop her before she killed my best friend. So I told Charlotte to go past the dropship. There's a patch of berries there, that I know from the other timeline. These berries are poisonous. And if things went the way I'm hoping they did? Then Charlotte's dead. Killed from poisonous berries."

Pascal gaped at her, stunned. What she was suggesting, was that she was willing to kill to keep herself and her friends safe from treachery?

Seeing Pascal's stunned face, Clarke chuckled, "So there you have it. I left them, including the so-called leader of their worthless group, Bellamy and all the rest of them. And I do hope they die. I have no sympathy for them if they die. Especially not for him. There's your choice, Pascal. You can join us and help kill all threats. You can always choose to not join us and stay out of the way. Or you could go against us and die. Those are your three choices."

Pascal swallowed. Clarke didn't seem insane. None of these people seemed insane. All four Clarke, Wells, Monroe and Niylah seemed very, very stable. Even in all her anger and savagery, Clarke didn't seem unstable. And none of them seemed to be making this up. If they were, for what purpose were they doing it?

So then that left the third possibility. That they were telling the truth and that they were right. And since Pascal had learned already that a species that weren't human but talked like humans but had batwings existed-a species that apparently had been around arguably for far longer than humans, if what he had heard from some of the guards was correct, and turned to stone during the day, then shouldn't he do as Clarke asked and withhold his disbelief?

"Okay," He said, taking an uneasy breath, "Let's say I believe you. That there's another timeline where three of us died." He looked to Wells, then to Clarke, "And where Trina died," Pascal shuddered at the thought. "How do we avoid getting killed now?"

Clarke shrugged. "We're already one step ahead." She said, "We left the 100. They're dangerous. They're one of the reasons why I don't trust people. Their leader, Bellamy is the main reason, as I said."

Pascal's eyes widened. You know, that shouldn't have been as much of a surprise as it was. When Pascal thought about it, it made sense. He thought about the way Clarke had been treating them, especially how she had been treating Jasper and Finn. Like they were troublemakers that she needed to keep track of. He then thought about how Clarke seemed to have wanted to get as far away from Bellamy as possible and about how Clarke had treated Octavia.

He said, looking at Clarke uneasily, "Octavia's not going to join us later, is she?"

Clarke smirked, as if pleased that Pascal had put the pieces together. "No," Clarke answered, "She's not. I didn't kill her, if that's what you're thinking. I wanted to, don't get me wrong. But I didn't. I beat her up and left her behind. Couldn't care less what happens to her afterwards. Not my problem. But there you have it. The 100 are as much of an enemy as the Grounders and this other group of people called the 'Mountain Men.' More on them later."

Pascal nodded, almost laughing. It was insane. But he believed her. He did believe her. A thought then hit him and he asked, "Did Jasper and Finn betray you?"

Clarke's smirk widened, then she said, "The first of those yes, the second…," she hesitated, "Finn is complicated." She lost her cold smirk. She now looked uncertain. "In the other timeline, when we faced off with a group of Grounders, not these ones, another group, the ones that lived in the place where the dropship landed, we survived, but we were traumatized. Including Finn. Finn attacked a village, because he was desperate to find me, because I had been abducted by the Mountain Men. That other group I mentioned. Finn reacted out of trauma, not out of intent to betray. But this led to his life being demanded by the leader of all of the Grounders, the Commander. The Grounders would have tortured Finn to death," Clarke's face became pained, "So after I escaped from the Mountain Men and got back to our people, I did the only thing I could think of. I killed him quickly, to spare him being tortured to death."

Pascal's eyes widened. Shit. Shit and shit.

"You saved him." Monroe said, looking at Clarke with conviction, truly not allowing any other answer to be given.

Clarke turned to Monroe and nodded to her, smiling. Wells looked to Pascal, as if challenging him to blame Clarke for Finn's death.

Pascal kept his mouth shut. If Finn really had been at risk of being tortured to death, then yes, Clarke had saved him. By giving him a quick death.

"And Jasper?" Pascal asked, unable to help his curiosity.

"Jasper," Clarke snorted, her face becoming dark with anger again. "Oh, he's another story." Clarke's eyes narrowed, "That worthless piece of shit." Pascal tried not to shiver again. He knew that Clarke hated Jasper, he hadn't realized how much, though. Clarke continued, "As I said, we were attacked by the Grounders in the area where we landed. And we fought them and won, but there were more numbers of them. I got captured by that other group, the Mountain Men, and so did Jasper, Monty, Fox and Harper."

Clarke's eyes darkened as she told this story, mouth in a cold line, "The Mountain Men…they are even worse than the Grounders, if that's possible. They abduct anyone they can get their hands on. And they take the blood and bone marrow of the people they abduct to keep their own people healthy. We didn't know this when we were first captured by them. But I didn't trust the Mountain Men. I didn't trust them even a little. And I tried to find out what they were hiding. But because the Mountain Men gave Jasper and the others cake," Clarke spit the word out, eyes flashing with pain, "Because the Mountain Men gave them food and nice clothes and a softer bed, apparently, I was the bad guy, because I was trying to keep them safe, and according to them, because I was being cautious of these strangers, these Mountain Men," Clarke sneered, "People who they had just met and because they were given cake and nice clothes," Clarke practically spit her next words out again, "Because of that, I was the bad guy and I was an ungrateful ass."

Clarke shook her head, disgusted. "I wanted to save my people, I wanted to protect them and when I pleaded with them to listen to me? They treated me like I was the enemy. Like I didn't belong. So you know what? Fuck Jasper. Fuck him. I hope he dies. And I hope he dies slowly. He chose the Mountain Men over me, when I saved him from the Grounders, twice. For people who gave him cake and fancy clothes." Clarke then snickered, "Of course, it helped that there was a hot piece of ass that Jasper was attracted to in the Mountain Men's place. Nothing like betraying your people for a cute girl."

Pascal stared, feeling cold again. Shit. Shit. For a moment, Pascal wasn't sure what to feel. How was he supposed to react to that?

"Jasper," He said quietly, "Betrayed our people, for bribes?"

Clarke nodded. "Basically," She said, "I mean, to his credit, when he found out what was actually going on in the mountain, he tried to stop them. But because he was so willing to believe in the Mountain Men's lies at the beginning, believed them over me, the person who saved him twice up until then, he was complicit in the things that came afterwards. Then after I did what I had to do to stop the Mountain Men? After that hot little piece of ass that Jasper was into died because of what I did, even though it was necessary and the rest of the Mountain Men died too as a result, guess how Jasper reacted? That little shit blamed me every day. It didn't matter that I saved him and the others. It didn't matter that I tried to help afterwards in the politics of the Grounders to help our people. Jasper hated me, even though I saved him three times."

Clarke's face was now a mask of anger. "So I don't give a shit what happens to that little bastard. He can die. Oh, and to top it all off? He's the one that started the war between our people and the Grounders. He, Finn's girlfriend, Raven, who isn't here yet and that piece of rotting fecal matter, Bellamy were at a bridge where I met with one of the Grounders' leaders, to negotiate peace. And because they were there? The war started. Jasper opened fire on that meeting between me and a spokesperson for the Grounders and because he opened fire there, he was the one that started the war. And he never was held accountable. If anything, he saw himself as a hero because he opened fire on the Grounders and started the war."

Pascal huffed out a breath. So Jasper Jordan was a pushover. A tool. A puppet. A traitor. And he had caused so much trouble and never had been punished. Pascal hated Jasper immediately. And he hated Bellamy, Octavia and the rest of the 100 that they had left behind even more.

Pascal thought about what he had just heard. You know, crazy as it all was? Pascal believed her. He believed her about this time travel thing. About Clarke being betrayed in this other timeline that she had been in, as many times as she said. About Bellamy and Octavia. About the Mountain Men. About Jasper and Finn.

"You know," He said dryly, "I think I believe everything you're saying."

Clarke nodded. She then said, "So, what's the choice, Pascal?"

Pascal nodded. So there was the choice. He could help her, stay out of the way, or go against her and die.

He believed her absolutely when she said that she was willing to kill to protect her people. He totally believed her.

The two options, staying out of her way or going against her, were not options.

He was going to help her.

"Alright," He said at last, "I'll help you."

Clarke's eyebrows went up at that. "You're sure?" She asked, not sounding like she cared about his choice that much.

"Really," Pascal assured her, "I'm sure. I can help my people, and piss my old man off. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

Clarke snorted, "And I should trust you, why? Do I have proof to trust you?"

"No, you don't," Pascal said quietly, "But that's what makes it trust. You don't know for sure if I'm trustworthy or not. But tell me to do something and I'll do it. You have me on your side. I swear."

Clarke seemed to think about this. Monroe turned to her and said, "Clarke, I hate saying this, but we need allies."

Clarke turned to Pascal, thinking. You know, as much as she hated to admit it, Monroe was right. They needed more allies. More people on their side. This was a leap of something. She wasn't sure "faith" was the right word. But it was a leap of something, alright.

"Fine," Clarke said darkly, "I'll trust you. For now." She narrowed her eyes and said, "Cross me, and you'll wish that you had been killed the way you had been killed in the other timeline. And Trina will be killed first."

Pascal held up his hands. "I get it." He nodded. "Understood."

Clarke then said, "What do I call you besides Pascal? What's your last name?"

"Williams." Pascal answered. "Pascal Williams."

"Right," Clarke said, "Now, I want to take precautions. Give me your weapons. All the more dangerous ones? Give them to us."

Pascal blinked, then without further hesitation, reached into his clothing and started peeling off his weapons, handing them off to Clarke, Wells, Monroe and Niylah.

When Pascal was bare of all his weapons, Clarke then handed him a leather sheathed hunter's knife. "You can carry this around for now," She said to him as he took the knife. "Until I feel comfortable enough for you to have other weapons? Then you're only getting this knife."

Pascal nodded. He took the sheathed knife and place it against his forehead and saluted her with it. "Aye, aye, general Griffin." He said, grinning.

Clarke chuckled without meaning to. Great. This was her newest recruit.

"Get into the ride, Sergeant Williams," She said, nodding to the tunnel of "Peter Pan's Flight." "Or else the others will wonder where we are."

"Right." Pascal said, turning around, pocketing the knife and heading into the ride.

Clarke turned to Wells, then to Monroe and Niylah. "Did we make the right choice?" She asked darkly.

Wells shrugged, "We need help." He said, "One more ally might help."

"We'll see." Niylah said. "Perhaps we should watch him."

"Right." Clarke grumbled. "Well, then," She said, "I guess we should start following after them."

The four of them went to the opening of the ride and went inside.

There were electrical lights that lined the inside of the tunnels. Clarke wasn't sure if those electrical wires and lights had been here since before the bombs and radiation, but they were certainly here now and were on. Which meant that they provided a great deal of light to spill through and allowed Clarke and the others to see where they were going, something Clarke was grateful for.

They reached the "exhibit" part of the ride. Now, Clarke had never been to Disneyworld, of course, but she knew how this ride worked technically. There were pirate ship shaped pods which people were supposed to get inside of and ride around in. While rides like this naturally didn't exist on the Ark, the Internet still existed. And so she had seen videos of these rides. Videos that had been uploaded almost centuries ago and stayed on the Internet.

Personally, Clarke didn't understand the Internet or how it worked. Either way, it gave her access to images and videos. While the ships that were the pods were supposed to be dragged around the ride, that obviously was not an option here.

The mechanics didn't seem to work in this ride and probably didn't work for any of the rides. They would need to walk along the floor of the ride and go through the ride. Much like an abandoned museum, and looking in on the exhibits of long dead animals or insects.

Clarke, Wells, Monroe and Niylah took the next turn and came upon the inside of the ride.

Clarke burst out laughing as soon as she saw what was before her. Well, this was interesting.

They were inside a pink and white striped bedroom. Well, sort of. This was obviously the fictional "Darlings'" children's bedroom. The portal that was supposed to serve as a window, which was a HUGE opening, by the way, led out into the next compartment of the ride.

The one rather creepy aspect of this room, was the animatronic-albeit, not moving painted plastic and metal figures of Wendy, John and Michael Darling on one of the beds. Wendy was obviously supposed to be telling her brothers a story. The other bed had a set of wooden swords on top of it. Clarke stepped over the metal railing where the ship pods would have rode along to go through the entire ride. By the portal that was the window, Jasper, Monty, Finn, Harper, Fox and Trina were standing there, ready to go through it. Pascal caught up with them and Clarke, Wells, Monroe and Niylah began to join them.

"Look!" Jasper said excitedly, pointing out of the window out into the next room which had been designed to look like the outside of the Darlings' family house. "Let's go!"

"Yeah, yeah," Monroe grumbled, using Peter Pan's famous line, "'Off to Neverland.'"

Clarke turned to Pascal and he offered a friendly smile as he nodded to her. "So," He said to her, "You leading the way, boss?"

Clarke turned to him coolly. "You go first." She said, not leaving room for argument. She watched as understanding crossed his face. She was trusting him with the knife and with secrets so far. But that was it. That was all she was going to trust him with as of right now. If he wanted more trust? He would have to earn more trust.

Pascal showed no offense or anger to that limit of trust. Instead, he nodded. "Alright." He said. "I'm the guinea pig." He went to the window and began to step one leg over the window and then the next, letting out several high-pitched squeaking noises, obviously trying to emulate a guinea pig's types of squeaks.

Clarke, despite her distrust, fought a chuckle at this. Trina seemed a little confused by her boyfriend's actions, but followed after him. Finn, Monty, Jasper, Harper and Fox followed next. Then Monroe, Clarke, Wells and Niylah went through the window.

The lighting was still bright, but the coloring of the designs were a more dark blue. The ground was dark, the tiles of the roofs of the buildings were dark. And the wall behind the mechanical, unmoving dog, Nana, was dark, as well.

Clarke glimpsed at the metal dog, with its light brown paint beginning to chip off. It barely came up to her shin, but it was enough of a convincing rendering of a dog. She had always wanted a dog. Always. Animals weren't extinct on the Ark. They were just rare. People weren't allowed access to them for fear of disease or something of the like. Some stations had dogs. But they were used as security, nothing else.

When they had reached the ground, she had been put through too much bullshit to believe that she could deal with taking care of a dog. She was in no condition now to take care of a dog. No matter how much she wanted one. She wondered what kind of breed Nana was supposed to be. Her breed was big and fluffy. But that description seemed accurate to quite a few dog breeds. So heck if she knew what breed the dog was supposed to be.

She turned away from the dog and saw Pascal taking a turn between the buildings and then he halted, looking surprised. "Holy shit." He said, grinning. "Hey, you guys should see this!" He said loudly.

Clarke, Wells, Monroe and Niylah followed after him. They moved quicker than Trina, Finn and the rest of the group, so they saw what Pascal had wanted them to see first. "Well," Clarke said, eyebrows hopping up, "Shit."

She had seen the Internet videos that people long dead had put out for people to see when they had gone on this particular ride. So she shouldn't have been surprised. Still, it was a sight to behold.

Before them was a length of miniature land. It was London. In miniature. The bridge, Big Ben, and other taller structures would go up to their thighs most likely. But that was about it.

However, what was impressive was the scale of the length of that miniature land. It went all the way from the buildings right outside of the window portal from the Darlings' home, all the way across the hall. And each building and part of the ground of the miniature London, was ornately designed.

"Huh," Monroe said, "Cool."

"That's one word for it," Wells said, "I have to say, I'm impressed the Grounders kept everything so dust-free. I would think that there would have been layers and layers of dust all over the place."

"There used to be," Niylah said, coming up next to Clarke, standing between her and Wells, "I heard from my people when the Luwoda first laid down their roots here. They cleaned everything and maintain it regularly."

"Interesting." Clarke said. She then added, "Although I can think of one part of this ride that should have been left to rot. Or just destroyed." She remembered how racist the Disney Peter Pan movie was.

It might have been well animated and had good music-it didn't change that it was racist as fuck.

"What part?" Monroe asked, looking at Clarke.

Clarke gave Monroe a wry look. "C'mon," She grumbled, "Like you don't know. You've seen the Disney Peter Pan movie, right?"

Monroe shook her head. "Not really," She answered, "I kinda didn't have a usual upbringing and didn't have a lot of opportunities to watch movies or TV shows."

Clarke paused, nodding. "Right," She said, remembering what Monroe had told her about the other girl's life on the Ark, "Sorry."

Monroe shook her head. "It's okay," Monroe answered, "It wasn't all bad. But no. I don't know what you're talking about. What is it?"

Clarke nodded. Okay, so Monroe most likely hadn't seen any Disney movies in her entire life. That was an interesting thing to know. "Disney's Peter Pan is incredibly racist," She explained. "Against Native Americans specifically. There's a whole segment in the movie that has a bunch of stereotypes about Native Americans. There's a really, really racist song in the movie that I'm not repeating the name of."

Monroe's eyes widened. "Damn." She said weakly. "That's depressing."

"Shouldn't be a surprise," Clarke said darkly, "It's based on a book written by an entitled British ass-wipe. Not excusable. But we shouldn't be surprised either. In any case, there's a design in this ride that will be of the Native American characters in the movie. So yeah, just warning everyone."

"Got it, understood." Monroe said, though she looked kind of sickened now.

"Oh, yeah," Monty said, looking uncomfortable, "I forgot about that." He grimaced, "Not cool."

"No, it's not." Wells said. "But hey, who cared if a movie based on the book written by a pedophile had racism in it. Shocking." His face was hard as he scoffed out this sarcastic remark.

"Wait, pedophile?" Jasper asked, looking at Wells, surprised, "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Oh yeah," Wells said, smirking grimly, "Sir James Matthew Barrie, famously known as 'J.M. Barrie,' the author of the Peter Pan books, had a thing for little boys. Specifically the little boys of a family he grew attached to. He latched onto one of the boys especially. Named Peter." Wells's smirk seemed almost pained, "How nice. You could be molested by a pedophile, but hey, as long as you get a sociopathic main character of a story that has colonial racism in it named after you, who cares?"

The looks of wonder on all the others faces suddenly turned to unease and disgust. Clarke shouldn't have felt so pleased by their looks of growing horror. But it felt so good to see them look like this. People who had expected her to do everything for them suddenly now looked so horrified. It felt fucking good.

Clarke shrugged, turning to Monroe who still looked nervous, Pascal who was watching with fascination and Niylah who was watching and listening but didn't seem to understand some of the words that she heard. Clarke grinned coldly. "Well," She said, "Let's go."

She started through the miniature city, Wells, Monroe, Niylah, Pascal and Trina following closely behind her. The others slowly but gradually followed too.

Back on the Ark, Callie took the footage she had taken of the medic center, of Abby Griffin doing her activities. She knew that she could find enough evidence to fabricate a crime that Abby had done, even though she hadn't done it, and have Abby floated. Callie wanted to do it. But she wasn't sure that killing Callie would get her on Clarke's "good list." She intended to adopt both Clarke and Wells. And Clarke was much more likely willing to be adopted by her, if Callie was careful enough not to have Abby killed.

Thelonius Jaha's murder could be hidden. After all, as long as she had made Kane the suspect of that, Wells would believe that his father had been killed by Kane. Not by her. But if she had Abby executed? That couldn't be hidden.

So she wouldn't have Abby killed. Not just yet.

Was Clarke pissed at Abby Griffin? Yes. That couldn't be argued. But Abby was still Clarke's mother and therefore, it was easy to assume that Clarke would still care about Abby, if only a little. Or only out of obligation.

So Callie would keep that footage handy. And she would have the Ark go down to South America, not to Florida, per that girl, "Monroe's" instructions. But she expected to hear from Clarke and Wells soon.

Then there was mechanic, Raven Reyes.

She grabbed a radio and called to Raven through this radio. "Reyes, can you please get more equipment?" She said, "Get as much as you can and meet me in the chancellor's chambers."

Hearing Raven's confirmations, Callie waited.

About two hours later, Raven came by her chambers and said that she couldn't get the equipment that she needed. She explained that she couldn't get the equipment, because Nigel, a tech aficionado, wasn't allowing Raven near it.

Callie eyed Raven. Raven seemed very, very angry. Her shoulders were hunched and her eyes were narrowed.

"Raven?" Callie asked gently, "What happened?"

Raven shook her head, obviously distrustful towards the new chancellor. "I'm fine." The mechanic said, "No need to worry. I'm good."

Callie frowned. "You are not good. You're angry. Can you tell me why?" She spoke softly, hoping to give this girl an idea that someone cared about her. While Callie unquestioningly would kill this girl to protect Clarke and Wells, if she had to, she doubted that she would need to. And if she didn't need to, she wanted this girl to feel safe and know that she had someone to talk to if she really needed someone.

Raven said, shrugging, still angry, "Nothing. Just that bitch, Nigel. She said she'd only give me the equipment, if I did what she asked. If I have sex with someone that has the equipment." Raven's words were covered in anger, and quiet rage.

Callie's eyes grew huge. What?

Oh, Callie knew that rape was a problem on the Ark. Prisoners exchanged sex with guards in order to gain possessions. And since the prisoners were all underage, or almost all underage, and they were in a position of severe vulnerability, the guards took advantage of not willing people, but helpless people. Therefore, committed rape. And there were more than a few adults that took advantage of underage people who were not guards and therefore, were committing rape.

And those who wanted sex in exchange for favors were one of those lowlife rapists. Raven Reyes was an adult. Nineteen years old. But trying to gain sex in exchange for a favor on its own was pushing it towards there being no consent.

"Did she tell you this person's name?" Callie asked.

Raven shook her head.

Callie sighed, believing Raven. Though she suspected that Raven didn't want to tell a chancellor anything, she doubted that Raven was lying to her.

"Alright," She said, "Well, then, come with me," She said to Raven, "We'll track down the person she wanted to force upon you ourselves."

Raven looked at Callie, startled and Callie smiled, seeing that Raven wasn't used to having someone on her side. Callie called for the guards and they and Raven followed her out of her chambers, down the hall, to Nigel's area.

The next half hour most likely was one of the strangest ones that Raven had ever experienced. At least, that was what Callie figured. Callie had her guards arrest Nigel, and her associates. Eventually, due to Callie tricking Nigel into thinking that the woman who was quintessentially a "pimp," that she wouldn't float the awful woman, Nigel gave the name of the person that she had hoped to give Raven to for an evening.

Some piece of garbage named Darius Lee. Callie realized she had heard of this man. He was one of the top specialists in the black market.

That made up Callie's mind for her. She had everyone involved with Nigel's illegal dealings arrested.

Then she had them all thrown into new skyboxes. She intended to eventually float all of them one by one, this evening.

Darius Lee was dragged to the chancellor's chambers another half hour later. He was held captive, each arm held painfully tightly by a guard and clubs being held over his neck, pushing him down so that his knees dragged along the floor.

Darius was carried to Callie's quarters and Raven stood next to Callie, nervous.

Callie smiled at Raven. "It'll be alright," She promised the young woman. "I won't let him near you."

Raven forced a tough look on her face. "I'm not worried. He touches me, I cut his hand off."

Callie chuckled. Either Raven was very tough or acted tough to survive. She was going to have to suspect that it was the second one, not the first. But that wasn't the point. She turned to look back at Darius Lee.

The light brown-haired man that had been dragged here, with shocked, and rather frightened light brown eyes peered at her from a pale white face.

"Chancellor?" He asked, "Sorry, but what am I here for?"

"I think you know, Mr. Lee." Callie answered. "You have been running illegal machine parts, amongst other items in the black market. You are to be floated, today, for your crimes."

Darius's eyes widened.

"Wait," He said, panicked, "Chancellor!"

"Take him away!" Callie ordered. "Get him prepared to be floated!"

Darius cried out as he was dragged out of the chambers and Callie turned to Raven.

Callie nodded to Raven. "Does this make you feel safer?" She asked.

Raven swallowed and looked away, nodding. Callie smirked, turning back to the door. She would enjoy floating every last one of Nigel's associates.

Callie wanted Raven to know that she was on the younger woman's side. But if Raven got in the way of Callie protecting either Clarke or Wells, Callie wasn't past killing Raven too, in order to protect her two chosen children.

Back on the ground, in the Trikru's land, the general Onya, and her allies, Sekena and the others, rode along.

All of them had agreed to be loyal to Onya, rather than the Commander. Onya had told them what their so-called great Commander would end up doing. Betraying them by not going against the Mountain Men as she swore to do. According to Onya, their newest Commander was the Mountain Men's puppet. The Mountain Men's lapdog. There was no need for them to show her any loyalty.

And they were on their way to the Luwoda's land. They knew it would take days. They had rested last night and had taken off this morning. Having hunted down some bucks and pheasants for their breakfast and eating, they had then done what they needed to-that was a polite term for them having to pee and shit.

And after they had used soaproot to clean their hands after relieving themselves, they fed the horses and given them water, had saddled up again and had headed off.

It had been almost three hours since they had shot off like arrows across the land from their previous campsite this morning. By now, they all knew that the Commander would have found out about their departure from their army and would have ordered them to be found.

Given that Onya had been the Commander's former Fos, it was very likely that the Commander didn't understand why Onya had left and likely would have more questions than being angry at her former teacher.

Mardo had suggested that they get rid of the horses-send the horses north, and make the Commander think that they went north, instead of south. But Onya dismissed it, knowing that the Commander wouldn't fall for something like that.

So they continued on.

They had gone through the barrier that was the Trikru's land and continued onto the Luwoda's land. They were halfway there. It would take another day and a half before they reached the Luwoda's kingdom, where in theory, Klark and the others had gone.

As they rode, Sekena asked Onya as they rode, "Klark…she must be amazing for us to be doing this."

Onya scoffed, smirking, calling over to Sekena as they rode, "Yes, she is, Sekena. She is amazing. She is a force of war, fire and deadly nature. And I love her. And so did you. In the other timeline."

Sekena nodded. This was still a lot to take in. But Onya wouldn't make something like this up.

And Onya wasn't insane. So there was only one conclusion, no matter how strange. Onya was telling the truth and there was another world where these events had already happened.

Eventually, they had told the others everything as well.

They all took it differently. Mardo had found it strange and bizarre. But he hadn't questioned it. Sathna hadn't questioned it, though she had questioned Onya's sanity a few times, till Onya had told her to shut her mouth. Lethena had laughed and said that she couldn't care less whether it was all real or if Onya had made it up. But she admitted that she had been looking for a reason to betray the-in her own words, "uptight" Commander, so she'd go with anything Onya said.

Auden and Rafa both agreed to this mission, believing what Onya said.

Forna was intrigued by Onya's betrayal to her Commander, to the warrior that Onya had once been so loyal to. Onya's betrayal had sparked Forna's fascination. She was an Azgeda, so already, her loyalty was in a questionable state. So she went along with Onya.

Kolak wanted to find this young woman, whom made even the Commander afraid. Onya swore that Leksa feared Klark, and so Kolak wanted to meet this warrior, so he had done as Onya had said.

Hadvenk and Jakora had the same attitude about the matter that Kolak did. They wanted to know who this woman was who could both make Onya become disloyal to the Commander, AND could make the Commander afraid.

Dontor took no side, except for this group of warriors who was his family, and therefore, he would follow them everywhere.

And Eltesa? She was of the same mind that Dontor was. Though have fun trying to get her to admit that.

The group of them stopped by a village to trade for supplies. More food, more fresh water, a few more knives and some more pieces of steel and more pieces of flint. They never risked telling anyone where they had come from or what their destination was. Oh, no, they were not going to risk that.

So they gave a fake story. That they were sent on a mission by one of the nearby tribe, the Poda's generals, general Vasnen to go off to the Trishana tribe with a message. Thankfully all their tribal tattoos were beneath their clothing, so there was no evidence to go against this claim. The traders nodded and accepted the claims of Onya and the others and wished them a good journey. Onya and the others left, getting up on their horses and took off.

The group got a few miles away, when they stopped at a road and decided the best route to take. Sekena turned and looked at Onya. She said to him, "Onya, if I loved this 'Klark' as much as you say, did…did Klark ever know?"

Onya shook her head as they began to move along the road to their next stretch of travel.

"I'm sorry, but no." Onya answered. "No, she didn't know. She doesn't know." Onya nodded. "If Klark has left now? Then that means she remembers everything. She wouldn't be making this big of decision of she didn't remember. The change in decision, and her leaving means that she does remember. Which means that no, she still doesn't know. Because she never learned that."

Sekena bit her lower lip as she gave a soft kick to her horse's sides. That sweet young girl that Onya had told her about, who Sekena had wished to take in, according to Onya, and a noble, traumatized girl, who needed love and kindness. And she didn't know. Had never learned that someone had loved her. Had loved her the way a mother would love their daughter. That any child should be loved by a parent. A young girl who was rejected by her own birth mother. And she hadn't known that she had been loved by Sekena.

Being able to read one of her best warrior's expressions well, Onya said to Sekena quickly, "We'll tell her when we reach her. You can tell Klark yourself when we reach her in the Luwoda's land."

Sekena nodded and kicked her horse again, making the horse go faster. Sekena would reach Klark. No matter what.

In what other parts of what used to be Florida, within Disneyworld, the three queens of the kingdom confronted each other.

One of the guards had brought news of their guests to them. Apparently that young woman, Clarke and her companions were in the "Peter Pan's Flight," ride. Fox and Elisa nodded to the guard and dismissed him. As the guard left, the two of them faced Demona again. Contemplating that particular ride, Demona scoffed, "I still don't know why you tolerate that ride being there," She said specifically to her wife, Elisa, "The offensive thing it has in its disgusting bowels-"

Elisa sighed, smiling, "And what should I do, then, huh? Erase a piece of history? I'm not going to erase the disgusting things that the people that owned this company did. Let people see it." Elisa nodded. "Let people see the racism of the people long dead. Let them see it and see how disgusting and stupid they were. Maybe it deserves to be destroyed. But people should see the racism of the people who used to own the company of this place. Let people see ignorance."

Demon sighed, shaking her head, dark red hair flying a bit. She understood what Elisa meant. But still, it was infuriating. To destroy the ride or just the mechanic figures of the Native American figures in that ride wouldn't erase what had been done. It would just be erasing the evidence. And it would be ignoring history. According to Elisa, those figures in the Peter Pan ride deserved to rot away in that ride, but shouldn't be destroyed. Should be seen as works of ignoramuses and bigots and left at that. But not erased. It should be held up as the works of bigots and nothing else.

Elisa's father, Peter Maza, had been Native American. Navajo, specifically.

Demona had always seen humans as bigoted-awful, bigoted wretches. But knowing that a certain company, the company-whose theme park they now governed, had created a movie-and more than one, when taking into account the movie, Pocahontas-making mockery of Native Americans-it was enough to infuriate her, especially after her relationship with Elisa began almost two centuries ago.

"In any case," Elisa said, "That's not what we're talking about, is it? Demona, what's going on? You were looking at that girl, Clarke before. Why? You looked at her funny. Like you were fascinated. What's up, Demona? Talk to us." She looked at Demona, smiling, waiting for some kind of explanation or some troubling possibility that the gargoyle had found something disturbing.

Demona looked at Elisa and Fox, resigned. She knew she needed to tell them. It was difficult to explain how she had felt as soon as she had seen Clarke, looked into the young woman-again, girl really's eyes. She might have been a full-grown woman-though Demona wouldn't presume to know what Clarke's age was, but Clarke, nonetheless, couldn't be any more than a little girl. Was at the oldest sixteen or seventeen. Maybe eighteen.

But even if she was a full-grown adult, she was clearly so young. So damaged and vulnerable.

Demona didn't know what she should say. To ask both her wives and mates to take in an adopted child-albeit, a bigger and older adopted child, that wasn't just something that you put on another person or two people. But still, Fox and Elisa both had been there for her when she had been trying to reconnect with her daughter, Angela. Even after all the betrayals that Demona had committed, and even after all of the times she had manipulated her daughter, Elisa and Fox still believed that Demona deserved another chance, a chance to reconnect with her only child. And so they had helped her. Eventually Demona had actually had a relationship with her daughter, Angela. Had visited Angela at Angela's clan's home in the castle back in what used to be called "Manhattan." Almost a century and a half. That was the time that Demona owed to Fox and Elisa.

Gargoyles aged slower than humans did. Though Demona had tried to find a way of making her daughter immortal, Angela had refused. She wished Demona and Fox and Elisa happiness. But Angela and her mate, Vincent wished to face their aging and eventual death. And that was their choice. Demona almost had disregarded her daughter's wishes and had tried to find some magic to make Angela immortal, against her daughter's will, but hadn't. For her daughter's sake, Demona realized that she needed to respect the younger gargoyle's wishes.

Angela and Vincent both had been dead now for what felt like a long time. But Demona was grateful for the time she had had with her daughter. Time that Fox and Elisa had given to her by helping her. Alexander, Fox's own son, had been dead for a while now too. But Demona had come to care about him as well. So Fox hadn't just given her time with her daughter, she had given Demona another child.

Now Angela's children, Artus, Gwenyvere and Lancelot ruled in different clans. Their own children traveled here and helped their great-grandmother and their great-grandmother's wives. Demona could see in some of her grandchildren, Angela's light lavender skin, which they had inherited from their great-grandfather, Goliath. She could see the curved horns that had belonged to their grandfather, Vincent, a gargoyle from one of the Italian gargoyle clans. Some, Demona would see the dark silver skin of their grandfather, Vincent's. And some of them had Vincent's webbed wings-some of them had Angela's wings with the little hands at the top of those wings. Angela's black hair. Vincent's light chestnut brown hair. Worse, sometimes Demona would see features of Angela's face in Angela's grandchildren.

It was difficult to see those similarities, sometimes. To be so, so reminded of her dear, dear daughter. But she lived with it.

And here she was, she had the chance of having a maternal relationship with someone who she wanted to take in, to make her own, her child-hers. A child who had been thrown away by those ungrateful for her help-and she had the chance to take this girl, this traumatized little girl in and to make her Demona's own.

"Fox, Elisa," Demona began, "I need to talk to you about something. I need to ask you something. About that girl, Clarke."

Within the halls of the ride that had at one time been called "Peter Pan's Flight," the group wandered around, checking the miniature figures out. The big, wide halls full of miniature, plastic rocks and a floor decorated to look like an ocean or a big river. And yes, they saw the gruesome figures in the halls, that was the garish Native American figures from the Peter Pan film.

All of the group, save for Clarke, Wells, Monroe and Niylah had loudly acknowledged that it was fucked up. Clarke and the other three didn't need to say it. They knew it was fucked up. What was the point of saying what was obvious?

After they had passed by the disgusting figurines, they reached the figurine of the pirate ship and the Captain Hook figurine over a figurine of that snapping crocodile, desperate to eat the captain.

As soon as they got there, Pascal did something that startled Clarke.

He slipped past the others, but stuck his right foot out, just enough for Jasper's foot to be caught by her ankle, tripping over Pascal's feet, and Jasper went flying over Pascal's foot, lying flat on his chest and stomach, right on the floor designed to look like water and he groaned in pain as his goggles smashed against his forehead. Jasper cried out in pain as his nose bled and already it was obvious that he was going to bruise up as the goggles slammed against his forehead, pushed in by the floor he had crashed into.

Clarke saw Pascal's smirk and then the smirk disappeared and he turned to Monty and Finn who were running to help Jasper up and Pascal's face appeared frightened and disturbed. "I'm sorry!" Pascal said and Clarke could hear the dishonesty in the apology, "I'm really sorry, Jasper! It was an accident!"

As the others moved to help Jasper, Pascal tossed a smirk at Clarke, before forcing his features to look like he was worried again as he thought to himself, (How's that for my first act of loyalty, general Griffin?)

Author's note: So just basically acknowledging where pieces of racist trash like the Disney Peter Pan and the Pocahontas movies belongs. In the trash cans of history.

Also, for those who want to look it up, even though Gargoyles was cancelled, the writer for Gargoyles listed the name of Angela's children in the Gargoyles website, so the names, "Artus, Gwenyvere and Lancelot" ARE there if you want to check it out, along with a lot of not shot and directed stuff that never got to see the light of day, unfortunately.