The second update of today, as promised! Things will start to diverge more from the story as we know it from this point onwards – I'm trying to adapt it slowly, at a rate that feels more feasible Let me know what you think of my twist – constructive criticism, or unadulterated praise (winks) is always welcome. Next update late in the week I should think.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the characters, events and world of The 100 – that honour goes to Kass Morgan and the writers for the (amazing) TV show.

Chapter Four

Bellamy

There was no sign of Roma, and Bellamy began fearing the worst. First Mbege, then Diggs – who knew if any of them would get out of this alive. It was a mistake to cross the boundary – Clarke wouldn't have wanted them to risk their lives for her. If he knew anything about the healer it was that she really cared, maybe too much, about making sure all of them survived. He, on the other hand, selfishly wished he was anywhere but here – like back in his tent with two warm bodies occupying his bed.

"Over there," Monroe pointed to a swath of familiar fabric he could just about glimpse behind a tree.

Bellamy jogged ahead of the others and came to an abrupt stop when he saw Roma's body. He audibly gulped, feeling immeasurably guilty, and reached out to close her fogged eyes.

"She was only here because of me," he groused.

"It's not your fault, Bell," Octavia said gently, putting a hand to his shoulder. "She chose to come, we all did."

"They're playing with us." Finn exclaimed angrily.

Bellamy turned to face the others and felt a renewed sense of purpose. He wasn't going down without a fight – and he'd be damned if he let his sister get hurt. If war was what these people were after, then he'd find a way to fight back.

"Well what are they waiting for," Jasper screamed hoarsely, "Get it over with!"

Bellamy took in his sweating, feverish appearance and wondered if it wasn't too much too soon for the guy to cope with, especially after his near miss their first day on the ground.

Unfortunately, he was distracted when the grounders began dropping from the trees – much closer than before. They'd clearly had enough of their sport and were closing in for the kill.

Finn punched a shaking Jasper in the chin and Bellamy pulled them apart, fuming.

"This is not the time," he growled. Great, two hot heads to deal with now.

Bellamy pushed Octavia behind him and took up a fighting stance, his heart pounding, but before the grounders got close enough, a foghorn blasted through the woods. Startled birds took flight and the grounders immediately took off, disappearing in that creepy way of theirs. Bellamy only relaxed minutely – they seemed to like messing with them.

"The horn, what does it mean?" Monroe asked, glancing around confused.

"Acid fog." Finn stated grimly.

"We should run," Octavia nudged him.

"We can't run, there's no time." Finn fumbled with his bag and pulled out a tent. He shook it in the air furiously, expanding it to its full size and laying it across the ground.

They all took the hint and quickly dove underneath it. Squashed together in the cramped space they frantically closed any gaps that let in the light and the possibility of the dreaded gas.

"How long does it stay?" Monroe whispered.

"Will this even work?" Octavia inched closer to his side.

"Shut up," Finn spat.

Bellamy glared at him in warning. After several minutes he started to get antsy – surely they should have felt something by now – even seen or heard something. He slowly inched the cloth by his face away from the ground and was met with nothing but clear air. He tossed it over his head and glanced around. Nothing – no fog in sight.

"False alarm I guess," he shrugged.

He stood up and leant down to help Octavia to her feet when he spied movement out of the corner of his eye. A grounder was running through the forest.

"They're coming back," he warned, reaching for his blade.

Jasper followed his gaze and they watched the grounder bound away from them. "He's alone."

Finn hurriedly crushed the tent in his pack and started off in the same direction.

Bellamy clasped his elbow. "Where the hell are you going?"

"To catch him," Finn shook him off indignantly, "He can tell us where Clarke is."

Following Spacewalker was turning into one of the craziest days of his life, but they'd come this far and he'd had enough of running from the enemy.

Clarke

Clarke looked up when a scraping noise echoed through the cave from outside – she hadn't been alone that long but it'd given her some time to think. She'd done nothing but rethink her perspective since landing on the ground. It just kept shifting, the more she learned – the more she experienced.

Her grounder entered the room and slowly stalked towards her. He still looked grim – clearly his anger hadn't abated. He wasn't shying away this time though – he looked right at her and Clarke felt her cheeks burn. His dark eyes were focused solely on her - it was like a wordless reproach for leaving him earlier.

"You didn't have to lock me up," Clarke grumbled, "I wasn't really in any shape to leave again so soon. And I can't stay forever – they need me."

He grunted, a deep noise in his throat, and pulled out a key to unlock her. Clarke watched as he unwrapped the chains from her wrists. He was being careful – in fact, even when he was chaining her up he'd tried not to hurt her. It was such a contrast to the interactions she'd had with other grounders that it left her bemused.

"I feel like all I do is thank you," she smiled gratefully and rubbed at her stiff wrists, "but for this you'll just have to accept the fact I'm not decking you right now and be grateful."

He chuckled gently and Clarke looked at him in surprise.

"You do understand me." She exclaimed – feeling irrationally pleased.

He stayed knelt in front of her – so close she could see tiny sparks of amber in the depths of his pitch eyes. He smelt comforting – like pine and musk.

"You should not have run away," he rumbled.

His voice was both softer and deeper than she'd expected, and his words felt almost formal.

"I wasn't running," Clarke smiled sheepishly, "I was hobbling."

He didn't smile at her joke. "I cannot protect you outside if you are not with me."

Clarke felt disconcerted at their intensity – but also…intrigued. This was nothing like her interactions with Finn – those were sweet, and formed from the rosy coloured blinders of first attraction – first love. She wasn't even sure anymore that what she felt for Finn was love. She cared about him – still did, despite her anger and disappointment. But her grounder was making her feel things on a scale that drowned out those feelings for Finn until there was nothing left but washed up remnants.

"Will you tell me your name?" she asked, feeling unexpectedly shy.

He hesitated, and his voice was gruff when he finally answered. "Lincoln."

"Clarke!" Her name echoed in the enclosed space. The voice was all wrong and it came from the most unexpected person. Lincoln rose to his feet and took up a defensive position in front of her.

Finn rushed inside Lincoln's cave and stood at the threshold, watching them warily.

"Come here, Clarke," he gripped his knife tightly and beckoned for her hurriedly with the other hand, "I won't let him hurt you."

"No, Finn." Clarke rose to her feet clumsily and gripped Lincoln's arm to steady herself. He didn't look at her, but she sensed his attention was split between the two of them. "He's not going to hurt me. He wouldn't."

Finn looked incredulous. "You're wounded. You don't know what you're saying."

Clarke smiled up at Lincoln. "He saved my life. I trust him." It wasn't until she said the words that she realised she meant them. It gave her an odd jolt.

Lincoln looked down at her – he wasn't smiling, but his eyes felt like a warm caress.

"You can't be serious." Finn sneered.

Finn stared between them suspiciously, then his eyes focused intently on her hand, still latched onto Lincoln with a familiarity that stunned even her. That was all it took for him to snap. He dove at them, knife raised, and Clarke screamed.

"Finn, stop. Please, just stop!"

Lincoln swept her behind him once more and knocked the knife out of Finn's hand. He pushed the younger boy back and they began grappling and punching, taking their fight to the floor. Dirt stirred up and the air rung with pained grunts.

Clarke didn't know what to do – Finn wasn't usually violent and she was both shocked and scared someone was going to get seriously hurt. They both pushed away from each other and leapt to their feet – Lincoln seemed unscathed but Finn had a bloody mouth. He spat on the floor and ran at Lincoln like a man possessed. She gasped when she caught his movement as he reached for Lincoln's sheathed knife.

"NO!" she yelled and dove at them, completely disregarding her own safety

Octavia

They'd followed the grounder to this concealed underground network of caves and Finn had snuck off while they'd been debating entering. They didn't know that anyone was down there and it could be an ambush – she, for one, wasn't all that eager to go into some dark and dank lair. But at Clarke's recognisable scream they all scrambled for the opening Finn had taken moments prior.

Octavia clambered through behind Bellamy and they shuffled along in single file, following the sounds of a scuffle. Bellamy froze when they reached a partially lit room, flames flickering and casting sharp shadows around them.

She watched aghast as Finn grabbed a knife from a grounder's belt and Clarke dashed in the way of his upward thrust. Octavia shrieked, she couldn't help it.

"Oh, god," Finn wailed, staring at his bloody hands.

Clarke clutched at her stomach in disbelief and the grounder caught her before she could fall. He gently set her on the floor, his hands running over her franticly. She might still have been in shock, but there was clearly something going on between the savage and the Princess.

"Don't take it out," Clarke gasped.

Finn fell to his knees next to Clarke and reached for her hand, but the grounder made a fierce and angry noise, slamming his fist forcefully into Finn's face. He fell back, knocked out cold.

Bellamy finally reacted, edging closer with his hands spread out in front of him.

"Monroe," he shouted behind them, "Keep a watch outside."

"Sure, Bellamy."

"We need to take her back to camp," Bellamy said to the grounder, nodding at the blonde he sheltered.

Jasper edged towards Finn to check his breathing, then started dragging the boy back towards the tunnel.

The grounder clearly saw the movements as a threat – he growled scarily, and gathered Clarke in his arms, pulling her farther away. Octavia edged the other way, trying to get a closer look at Clarke's injury. It looked bad – really bad.

The grounder was focused entirely on Bellamy closing in on their front, and then on Clarke when she let out a pained moan. He looked desperate and manic. Octavia took a moment to appreciate the allure Clarke seemed to hold for these men – what did she do, paint a princess crown on her head, find herself a tower and holler for a prince charming?!

As she approached undetected she noticed the foghorn hanging from the grounder's side. With shock, she realised that he must have sounded the alert earlier – he'd saved them from the other grounders.

She figured the grounder wasn't letting Clarke go anytime soon – she'd never seen somebody act so possessively, and she didn't speak grounder to reassure him they meant her no harm. There was only one feasible way out of this situation.

Octavia turned the hilt of her knife outwards, and lunged, bringing it down on the back of the grounder's skull. He immediately slumped over Clarke and she rushed to remove him from the injured girl.

Bellamy steadily picked up Clarke in his arms. "Help Jasper with Finn, O. We need to move fast, before he wakes up."

They both ran for the tunnel – Octavia got to the exit first and helped Jasper push Finn through. When she clambered out herself, Monroe was helping Jasper prop Finn up between them. Once Bellamy was out, with Clarke secure in his arms, they took off running for camp.

"What the hell happened?" Monroe asked.

"Spacewalker stabbed Clarke." Octavia mumbled, out of breath with all the running they'd done that day.

"Seriously?" Monroe sent her a baffled look.

"It was an accident," Jasper huffed beneath the added weight of Finn.

"Tell that to grounder dude," Bellamy said, "I thought he was going to kill him."

"I thought it was kind of romantic," Octavia snickered.

Bellamy shot her a dirty look. "Don't go getting ideas."

"As if I would," Octavia smirked, "He sure was hot though."

She was doubly curious to see how this would all play out – love triangle it was no longer. More like love rectangle. One thing was for sure, they hadn't seen the last of that grounder.

Lincoln

Lincoln rose with a pounding head and a sense of dire panic. He'd allowed himself to become distracted and Clarke had been taken from him. Even worse, she'd been injured – and poisoned by his very own blade.

He knew she was the closest thing they had to a healer – he'd watched from afar as she'd tended to all the minor scrapes the children got into. Witnessed the miraculous recovery of the boy they called Jasper. They didn't have sufficient knowledge to save her – they didn't even have the antidote.

He sprung to his feet, lunged for the exit to his cave and thundered through the darkening forest. There was only a chance that this might work, and a big possibility he'd be branded a traitor, but he couldn't let her die. He just couldn't.

Bellamy

They reached camp as the wind began to pick up and grey clouds bruised the sky. Normally he'd be yelling for Clarke, depending on her to fix the problem – but with a pang of fear he realised she wouldn't be any help this time. It was up to them to save her. They really needed her to survive this – he needed her to survive this. He had no desire to run this camp on his own anymore.

"Monty!" he yelled, remembering the boy sometimes assisted Clarke, "Monty, get out here!"

He came running, along with half the camp. It was to be expected really – they'd been gone a while and he was making a commotion.

"She's been stabbed." He pushed through the delinquents, noting their looks of shock.

"Shit," Monty muttered, "Bring her inside, quickly."

He laid Clarke out on her own rudimentary examination table and turned to look for Raven. She was backed up against the dropship wall with a look of horror on her face. He watched Monty shake his head sadly. He just didn't know enough to fix this.

"Is the radio working yet?" he asked her.

"No!" she wrung her hands together and it struck him as highly uncharacteristic, "I can't get it to work!"

"We need it working, Reyes, so I suggest you get right on it." Bellamy snapped tersely.

"She's tried, man," Miller stepped between them, "Nothing doing."

Bellamy sighed and gripped his hair in frustration. "There's got to be something we can do!"

"Th…the ship's survival database – maybe there's something on there that can help." Raven tried.

"I thought they were damaged in the crash," he stared at her in hope.

"They were," she straightened up, "But it's an easier fix. I can do it."

"Then get to it," he ordered.

She ran off, sending him a slightly peeved look, and he turned away to watch Jasper and Octavia prop a still out-of-it Finn against the wall.

"Octavia," Monty said hurriedly, wrapping a crude bandage around the knife sticking out of Clarke's side, "Can you get me whatever's left of the moonshine? We need to disinfect this wound, now."

"On it," Octavia pranced outside.

Bellamy followed her, feeling an immense pressure settle on his shoulders. He observed the dismal sky and walked decisively to the gates, pulling them firmly closed.

"Get everyone inside," he ordered Miller, "There's a storm coming."