Author's note: have I mentioned this fic gets dark? If not, this is a reminder. This chapter and the next few will get dark, really dark, so fair warning.

Redlox2: yes! I couldn't write it without including Emerson, especially since he was still alive, planning his revenge, when Lexa got shot in canon. He's always a good foil.

Chapter 28

Clarke awoke with a pounding headache in pitch black. It took her a few moments to realize her eyes were covered and her hands were bound above her head. Panic surged in her as she tried to recall what had happened, but she couldn't remember. What had she been doing and where was she? She had the momentary thought that she had never left the dropship and the last six months had been a dream, her mind's way of trying to stay sane. She dismissed this; she might still have mental hiccups every so often, but knew that it had been real. And now she was bound and blindfolded somewhere again. She knew who had taken her, but she just couldn't remember how. Her arms were already aching and she wondered just how long she had been here. Then she got flashes: her night with Lexa, leaving Polis with Octavia and Lincoln, then…that was it.

Her heart clenched. If they had her…she knew neither Octavia nor Lincoln would have let anyone near her without a fight. She said a silent prayer to whatever deity might exist that they were okay and hadn't fulfilled their vow of dying trying to protect her. She wished she could remember, then had a brief clip of Octavia lying on the ground, blood coming from a wound on her head. She stifled a sob, forcing herself to hold it together. She didn't know if Johnson was in the room with her, waiting for her to wake up, and was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She internally scoffed. At least, not before he did what she knew he was going to do. She knew from previous experience that she would cry, and scream, eventually. She said another silent prayer that Lexa would find her alive, not even wanting to think about what it would do to Lexa to find her body.

She heard shuffling footsteps. Two pairs. Then, low voices talking. Two men. So, Johnson had found someone to help him. What clan had taken him in? A single set of footsteps moved towards her. The blindfold was ripped off. It took her eyes a minute to adjust and she sucked in a breath when she recognized the man in front of her.

Emerson. Oh. That made so much sense. He likely hated her even more than Johnson. Of course he would find the Sky Man and they would bond over her. 'Great job,' Clarke, she internally chastised herself, 'always bringing people together.'

He held her stare, watching the pieces fall together, smirking as she held her head just a little bit higher.

"Looks like our positions have shifted. Last time I saw you, I was the one bound and at your mercy, but you refused to give it. So, I won't be giving you any, either," his voice had started out with a faux-calm, but his rage and hatred couldn't be contained and came out in it.

Her eyes went to the man behind him, leaning leisurely against the wall. The man who haunted her nightmares and waking moments alike. A man she had truly hoped was dead, but that was a fool's hope. Someone with that much darkness in him didn't just wander off and die. He smirked at her, crossing his arms across his chest, that dangerous glint still in his eyes, promising more horrors to come.

"Say something!" Emerson demanded her attention. She looked back into his eyes and clenched her jaw.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

He backhanded her. She just barely held in the gasp. "I don't know, beg! Cry! Tell me how sorry you are! Tell me you were just 'saving your people!' Just say something!" Spittle flew out of his mouth as he raged at her.

She tilted her head up, clenching her jaw shut. They both knew there was nothing she could say. She regretted Mount Weather. She hated what happened there, the innocent lives lost. She wished there had been another option other than genocide, but there wasn't. They were out of time and out of options. It was an 'us or them' situation and the Mountain paid the price. Nothing she said now could ever change that or justify it to this man who was the last of his people.

He rewarded her with another slap, harder than the first, his shoulders heaving in his rage. From the corner of her eye, she saw Johnson grinning. He liked watching her get hurt, liked seeing the obstinate woman getting beat down, knowing she would only hold out for so long.

Emerson grabbed her under her arms and made her turn, her arms twisting painfully above her. She sucked in air, but otherwise didn't make a sound. He took a knife and cut up the back of her shirt, exposing her back. He actually gasped when he saw it, the scars from Johnson and Dirks still taking up the majority of her back. He looked back at Johnson, who just smirked, before coming up to trace some of them with his fingers, enjoying seeing his handiwork again. "We got a jump on it last time we saw her," he said, a smile in his voice, as his fingers continued to trace.

Clarke felt nauseous at the touch. She'd take torture and death over him touching her anytime. She couldn't stop herself from jerking away from him, earning a chuckle.

"Did you count them?" came Emerson's response and it clicked in Clarke's head what Emerson was planning to do. She tried to keep her breathing even, but failed.

"Nah, but she has room for more," Johnson drawled out, his fingers again going to trace, more forcefully than before.

"I guess I'll just have to start over then," Emerson didn't sound too unhappy.

She heard the high-pitched, almost vibrating sound behind her and gritted her teeth. She would scream, but she would try to hold out as long as she could. She was strong, but no one would be that strong.

She felt the first burning cut and groaned. Whatever they were using used electricity to slice the skin, making it feel like a combination of a shock, slice, and burn.

"One: Dante Wallace," she heard from behind her.

Then the second cut came and somehow hurt more than the first.

"Two: Cage Wallace."

She grimaced and groaned, her body instinctively trying to get away, especially knowing that there would be 379 more to come, but in vain.

Back in Arkadia, Lexa and her group, as well as several Arkadians, including Jaha, Monty, Jasper, Harper, Miller, both Junior and Senior, as well as Bellamy, Octavia, and Lincoln, were gearing up to go even before the sun showed any sign of rising. They planned on getting to the tunnels before the sun rose.

Unfortunately, Lexa had to do the hard thing: refuse to allow Lincoln to come. He had been hit with an electric dart and was still quite unsteady on his feet. It was actually a miracle he had survived the shock. Octavia was barely better, but enough that Lexa knew she could hold her own if need be. She approached Lincoln in the med bay.

"Lincoln, you must stay here. You will be of no use unless you are further healed," she said in a no-nonsense way.

"Heda, she was my responsibility," he said, not wanting to contradict his leader, but desperately wanting to help.

"She was," said Lexa, "and you nearly died fulfilling that duty. She would not be happy if you further risked your health trying to find her and I can't afford to risk anyone slowing us down. I'm sorry, Lincoln. You must stay."

He sat back down on his bed, his head hanging low. Raven came up and sat on a stool next to him, "Don't worry, Lincoln, she benched me, too. We'll keep up to date with radios." Raven gave Lexa a half-hearted glare. She wanted to go, but, like Lincoln, she would end up slowing them down no matter how much she wanted to help.

"I found some schematics of tunnel systems we managed to get before Azgeda blew up Mount Weather. We'll be helping to guide them through the tunnels," she said as she pulled them out and laid them on the table in front of Lincoln. He nodded, still unhappy about staying.

They made it to the tunnels just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Torches and flashlights would help to illuminate the insides of the tunnels. They went off in sets of four. She had Octavia in her group and they would be taking the most likely path, according to Raven's calculations. Any sign of a trail would be radioed in.

They set off slowly, looking for any sign. It wasn't until about two hours later that Lexa finally found it. Deep into the tunnel they were searching, she saw the hint of gold covered lightly by debris and torn fabric. The Flame Medallion. Octavia looked at her in confusion, seeing hope flicker on the Commander's face.

"This is Clarke's; Titus gave it to her. They went this way," Lexa didn't take time to celebrate, continuing to follow the tunnel. Octavia radioed that they'd found the trail, telling the others the directions, while quickly following Lexa.

They came to another crossroad: three tunnels going off in other directions. Lexa's face stayed blank, but her heart fell. She examined the entrance to each of them, but none gave a clue to which was the correct one. Echo, Roan, Bellamy, and Miller caught up with them, Roan and Echo further examining each entrance. Tracking in the woods was very different from tracking inside the mixture of stone, dirt, and cement of the tunnels. They found nothing. They split further into three groups, each taking a tunnel.

The day was fading quickly with little success. Then, they saw the late afternoon sun streaming in from the end of the tunnel Octavia and Lexa's group had taken. There was their trail in the soft dirt and grass. Lexa's heart leaped in joy, hope renewing. They radioed the others as they began tracking it again. Then, hope turned to despair as the trail led to yet another reaper tunnel. One of Lexa's guards suggested they pick up from here in the morning, before quickly shutting his mouth with the intense look the Commander shot him.

"We've already lost over a day. We cannot wait much longer. Clarke cannot wait," Lexa said harshly.

They did wait for the others to meet up with them before continuing, seeking the trail in the new tunnel system.

Clarke made it to almost 50 names before she screamed, her legs giving out. She had a sheen of sweat on her skin, her breathing heavy. Her back felt like it was on fire, blood flowing down to the waist of her pants.

At 132, she had gone hoarse and had no tears left. Her back also had no more room on it; Emerson wanted each killmark to be spaced far enough apart to give each person the honor of an individual mark. Johnson came up then and turned her back towards them, ripping her shirt off the rest of the way. She wanted to fight, to stop him, but her body was shaking so much from the pain that she could barely keep her head up.

"She's got a whole nother side for the rest of 'em," he said to Emerson, gawking at her. She thought she would be sick, her stomach rolling as his eyes swept over her. Emerson had something flash in his eyes, almost as if he didn't approve of Johnson's gaze, but moved passed it quickly.

Then the marks continued on her front. At 183, her eyes rolled back into her head and blessed darkness overtook her.

The new tunnel system didn't want to give up its secrets, either. Raven radioed with as much information as she could gather from it, trying to guess the most likely path. Lexa couldn't risk taking the wrong path, though, so they again broke off in groups at the first crossroad.

The sun had set outside, but Lexa couldn't stop. Every moment they waited decreased the chances of finding Clarke. However, even leaders must eventually sleep and she was well passed that point, as were her companions. She finally agreed, after looking at the dark circles under Octavia's eyes, that they sleep in four hour shifts; those who were not on their shift would continue seeking the trail and awaken those asleep if they found something. Lexa's group slept first. She didn't think she would actually be able to sleep, but exhaustion won and she, as well as her companions, were fast asleep within moments of laying down.

They'd run out of room for the marks on her front. Emerson had injected her with something that forced her to come back to. Johnson had been all too happy to remove her pants. She was able to kick him a few times, her hoarse voice crying out, but she couldn't stop him. He knew it. She knew it. Emerson finished the marks on her thighs, the blood dripping down her legs onto the ground, naming each one for the Mount Weather person whom she killed.

Whatever he had given her was starting to wear off, her vision coming in and out. Either that or the blood loss was starting to overpower the drug.

Emerson went out of the room after he had completed the tasks, saying he was going to get some sleep before they continued. Johnson nodded, before smirking at her, waiting until Emerson was out of the room and it was clear he wasn't coming back. Then, he approached her slowly.

That glint in his eye gave her an adrenaline rush. She knew what it meant and she summoned the rest of her strength to try to kick him away, screaming and crying, "No!" It was no use and they both knew it. As his hands reached out to touch her, she let the blackness take over her, momentarily taking note of his head suddenly flying to the side, before the darkness took her under.