A/N: Thank you for all the reviews from last time – you guys make me feel so awesome, it's true! I try and PM everyone back, but for the guests/members with blocked PM who reviewed and I wasn't able to – an extra big THANK YOU!

Serious apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out. In the past few months my life has had a major upheaval - I've sold my apartment, packed up all my belongings and put them in storage (such a palaver) and then I had major abdominal surgery, followed by eye laser surgery and then I finally set off on my travels a week ago. I'm seriously hoping to get back into this more frequently now, so bear with me!

Also - I hope you're all enjoying season 3 – is it amazing or what?!

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.

Recap:

The sound of branches breaking cracked heavily in the night, and a small rumble beneath his feet felt like large quantities of earth had just shifted. Lincoln leapt up and ran towards the direction Clarke had disappeared.

"Clarke!" he yelled frantically – searching the pitch darkness for a sign of where she'd gone. A few trees in he stopped and examined the gaping hole in the forest floor where tree roots and earth used to be. He edged around it, only to see another cave in further on.

"Clarke." He called – kneeling down beside the first hole. "Tell me where you are, now!"

The others, newly awoken, had followed him and added their own sleepy, worried shouts until his ears rung.

"Quiet." He admonished – waiting for a sign of where she might be.

"Shit." Bellamy exclaimed in a whisper.

Suddenly Lincoln heard growls rising through the opening, from somewhere deep beneath them, and he leapt down the dark chasm without a second thought to how deep it might be or whether he'd be injured. Clarke needed him. That was everything he needed to know.

Chapter Ten

Clarke

One minute Clarke was getting ready to use the excellent bathroom facilities offered up by the forest – in other words, praying the apocalypse destroyed all remnants of poison ivy, or at least failed to mutate it into something deadly - the next she felt the floor shift out from under her and she was falling. The mud slide seemed to go deep into the earth, though it probably wasn't as far as her mind wanted her to think, and although she was mostly cushioned by the dirt, her flailing arms banged painfully against something unforgiving.

Clarke clutched her side protectively and tried not to panic at her hurtling speed. Moments later when she stopped moving, everything was pitch black – darker even than the forest canopy, like someone had laid a blanket over the moon and stars and tugged them away.

She opened her mouth to call for help and immediately had a coughing fit. The air was so disturbed it was like breathing through silt. It smelt of neglect, like damp and long stagnant air, and a swift breeze made her shiver and huddle in on herself. Instead of feeling like she was in a hole, Clarke felt uncomfortably like she was on the edge of a precipice – lots and lots of deep, empty space all around her. Her left elbow twinged in time with her ribs when she tried to stand up, and she fell back against the hard floor with a grunt.

"Clarke!" Lincoln's panicked voice sounded too distant and she tried not to let that bother her. But it did. When had she started needing him so much?

More shouts sounded from above as she inhaled deeply against her sleeve and assessed her predicament the same way she'd been taught to assess injuries. Is it fatal? No. What's the primary concern? Getting back to the surface. What could she do to make it happen? Not sit on her butt panicking would be a start.

Clarke held her sore elbow to her side and gently eased herself onto her knees, willing her eyes to adjust. She stumbled to her feet and tentatively felt out with her foot a few paces ahead – her arms instinctively darting straight out in front of her, feeling for a wall or some measure of support. She'd stumbled maybe two steps when a rumbling, scratchy growl rose up from somewhere to her left and she froze solid.

Goosebumps erupted across her bare arms and she shuddered. The growling increased, getting imminently closer. She was being stalked. She'd just taken in a sharp breath to scream when a soft, solid thump sounded somewhere farther to her left. Clear sounds of a scuffle broke out next to her – the fierce grunts of a man intermingled with the growls and snarls of what she knew was surely the missing alpha. It must have laid in wait and attacked her as the weakest link.

She felt the disturbances in the air around her yet frustratingly saw nothing but shadows upon shadows. Clarke's heart was solidly in her throat – a throbbing that temporarily robbed her of speech. The silence, as sudden as it was, felt deafening.

"Lincoln?" she whispered shakily.

Then he was there, not quite touching her, but close enough to feel his breath against her forehead and the sheltering warmth of his skin mere milometers from her own. Clarke sagged into his waiting arms and felt a little like crying with relief.

"I was so damn worried." She exhaled on a slight laugh.

"You were worried." He sounded incredulous. She felt him draw back slightly as though searching for her face, and then his hands did just that – cupping her cheeks with infinite care. "If ever I thought I knew the meaning of fear before this day I was mistaken."

Clarke blushed warmly against his palms. "I'll try not to scare you so much next time, big guy."

"That would be wise." He agreed solemnly.

One hand wandered down her side in a fleeting caress to cup her injured ribs and she knew he needed to know she was uninjured. Needed it the same way she needed him. She searched for his eyes, obsidian gems that stood out against the sharp angles of his face, and when she knew she had his undivided attention she pressed her lips firmly against his. She wanted to kiss away all his worries – the compulsion to kiss every inch of his exposed skin more powerful than anything she'd felt before.

"As cute as this is…" Octavia called out. "Would either of you like a hand getting out of that godforsaken pit?"

Clarke grinned against Lincoln's mouth and looked up, expecting to see more darkness, but a break in the trees caused moonlight to flood through. The remnants of a crumbling rock wall were illuminated ten feet away, pockmarked and covered in muck from the sudden shift in soil. It was steep, and they would definitely need help getting out, but it was manageable. Octavia knelt at the lip, an amused smirk arranged across her face. She could just distinguish the outline of Bellamy, standing behind her like a sentinel with his arms crossed and his feet braced apart.

"Yes, please." She sighed gratefully.

"I'll get some rope." Bellamy muttered and walked out of sight. Harper appeared next to Octavia and winked down at Clarke.

Lincoln drew her in for a brief kiss then relinquished her to examine their escape route. Clarke left him to it and used what she could of the dim lighting to finally investigate their surroundings. There was something slightly ancient about the space, though all she could see was glimpses of rock walls and curious hollows, beyond that slopes of thick mud were dotted with snarled roots. The roots would probably come in handy as foot holds for getting out of there at least.

She glanced past the crumpled body of the alpha with a sense of pity. Pity that such a creature was forced to become man's enemy, rather than man's best friend as the old stories told. A small gleam in the thickest part of the darkness, just beyond the dead canine, accidently caught her eye and Clarke gasped. Lincoln turned to her immediately but she stalled him with her hands before he could talk.

Two eyes reflected moonlight back at her from a place low to the floor – a small inlet half submerged by the cascade of mud. Clarke took slow, steady steps in that direction, making a conscious effort not to stiffen when a soft growl started rumbling from the cornered animal.

"No, Clarke." Lincoln warned.

"Hush." She hissed. She flapped her hands at him to get him to stay away. Always so protective, he wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to her and she knew he was milliseconds from her side.

As she got closer she crouched down to the floor, making her body appear smaller and unthreatening, then stretched one hand gently out in front of her in a submissive gesture.

"Hello there, little one." She softly cooed.

The growling gradually petered out and a small wet nose sniffed cautiously at her offered hand. "I won't hurt you. Why don't you come out where I can see you?"

It took a little coaxing, and more than a few grumbles from Lincoln who watched her with narrowed eyes, but the minute one sooty paw padded out of the hiding place, Clarke fell in love. Suddenly her arms were full of squirming puppy – a tiny fur covered body with ears too big for it's head and a belly that desperately needed filling.

"That's right," Clarke murmured against the ticklish sensation of the puppy licking her neck. "You're safe now."

"He likes you."

Clarke jumped slightly, startling the puppy who immediately burrowed against her stomach. She hadn't heard Lincoln approach, which wasn't exactly unusual, but it was the acceptance in his voice that surprised her. She lifted her eyes to meet his and grinned contritely. He knelt at her side, one hand slipping around her waist, the other stroking the warm bundle in her lap with such care she felt her heart pulse like a stone skipping across a lake.

"He has good taste." Lincoln spoke softly, his answering smile wry.

He helped her to her feet as a rope bounced down against the wall behind him. Clarke quickly bundled the puppy against her front while Lincoln zipped up her jacket. Once she was sure her bundle was secure she approached the wall with Lincoln – he tugged at the rope firmly before passing it over to her. He looped it securely around her waist before patting her bottom in encouragement.

"You first." He stated, standing behind her with his arms extended as though to catch her if she fell. Which he undoubtedly would, she knew.

"Bellamy and Jasper have the other end secure." Octavia called out. "You're good to go."

"Alright." Clarke called. "Heave-ho, boys!"

Clarke grasped the rope with firm hands and found her first foot holds – the boys above strongly yanked her most of the way, so it felt like she was running up the wall rather than climbing. She probably wouldn't admit it to anyone, especially because of how scared she'd been moments before, but it was kind of exhilerating.

Octavia and Harper gripped her arms and helped her over the edge. Clarke sent the rope sailing back down to Lincoln. He seemed to make the climb much more gracefully than her, and as soon as he was free of the rope's constrictions he put his arms supportively around her.

They all gathered at the edge of her temporary prison. From up here the crevice looked like something from Greek mythology – a pit of hell and damnation in Tartarus perhaps. But then, she was tired, and it was really dark. It had been a long night.

"We can check it out properly in the morning." Octavia offered.

Clarke nodded and they headed back to their little encampment. Blessedly the fire hadn't died out and Clarke bent in front of it to warm her hands.

"What's with the stomach pouch, Clarke?" Harper asked, eyeing her zipped jacket.

"You trying to give credence to those baby rumours, princess?" Bellamy joked.

"Hardy har har." Clarke muttered. She sat back against Lincoln and reached for her zipper.

Octavia and Harper squealed in delight and the puppy burrowed against her once more in fright. Lincoln's arms reached round to pet the dog and it nuzzled gratefully into his palm.

"Is that...Is that a puppy?!" Bellamy demanded. He stood across from her and crossed his arms defiantly.

Clarke furrowed her brows. "So what if it is?"

"Clarke, we can't keep it."

Octavia threw her brother a disgusted look. Even Jasper looked upset at the thought of leaving the little guy behind.

"You're right." She nodded, trying not to laugh at his instant look of relief. "I'll just leave this small helpless bundle here for predators, shall I?" She looked up at him through her lashes. "This helpless bundle whose whole family is dead because of us. This helpless little bundle who won't last a day, all alone in the world, no way to feed itself…"

"Alright. Jesus." He spat. "Keep the damn dog, but it's your responsibility."

"Thank you, oh gracious leader." Clarke mock bowed.

"Everyone shut up now and get some sleep." Bellamy decreed.

"You're such an ass sometimes, Bell." Octavia griped, though she drew her blanket over her head and settled down. Everyone soon followed, drained from the excitement of the day.

Lincoln pulled Clarke gently back onto their shared blanket and pulled another one up to their waists. They lay facing each other with the puppy nestled between them. He got up onto his little legs once Clarke put him down and walked in a circle twice, sleepily chasing his tail, before curling into a ball of dark fluff.

Clarke grinned at Lincoln and reached across the small gap to kiss his nose. "Thank you for understanding." She said.

"I was just trying to give you what you wanted." His voice brimmed with sincerity.

Clarke's grin widened. "I feel that's how it should always be."

Lincoln chuckled silently and brought one arm up to touch the tip of her nose. It was then she noticed the bloody crescent on his wrist and sucked in a breath of shock.

"You've been bitten!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"It's nothing." He pulled his sleeve down to cover it. "You can tend to it in the morrow if it's not already healing."

Clarke made a little moue of distress. "If this were a zombie infested apocalyptic world, I'd have to kill you now."

"You can kill me tomorrow." Lincoln stated laughingly. "But for now, just go to sleep."

"Yes, sir." She sassed.

"I feel that's how you should always address me."

Clarke stifled her giggles into the crook of her arm and snuggled closer to Lincoln and the puppy. They'd have to think of a name for the little dude in the morning – something badass and cute.

Just before she drifted off she felt Lincoln sweep her hair behind her ear in a touch so tender she ached. He leaned forward and whispered. "My people prize strength above all else. Strength and loyalty. Emotions aren't supposed to get in the way of that. Heda says love is weakness. But you, Clarke, you're so full of emotion, of love, and just so strong. You never stop caring. I didn't know it could be like that."

Raven

The cacophony of the perimeter alarm tripping shoved Raven forcefully out of her day dreams. She and Monty had spent hours after the scouting group left trying to figure out what was interfering with the radio signal, with absolutely no success. But she agreed with him – someone was interfering with their outgoing signal, and it was likely on this end. Which had so many implications, nearly all of them bad news, that her head was figuratively spinning. If they found radio equipment in Front Royal, they might be able to rig something together – and there was a chance they might be out of range of whatever was blocking their comms now – but Raven wouldn't hold her breath.

The sound of gun shots followed the trip wire and Raven sighed before darting out of the communications tent. She headed for the gates and pushed her way through the crowd of curious teens – her methods of sticking her elbow into every side she passed was met with scowls.

"What's happening?" she demanded.

Miller appeared instantly at her side and pulled the gate open. "Stay here."

She bit her tongue at his commanding tone but didn't have to wait long. He reappeared seconds later with a worried look pasted across his face.

"Well?" she asked. "What is it?"

He moved out of the way and Raven saw what his body had been concealing. Two of the guards left on perimeter duty, Connor and Derek, half carried, half dragged the seemingly lifeless body of a dark haired boy between them. He was so bloody and beaten that Raven had a hard time making out his features.

"Who is it?" she stepped back to let them enter. "I don't recognise him."

"That's because he was banished before you got down here. Raven, meet Murphy." Milled frowned suspiciously.

Monty burst through the crowd while she was remembering everything she'd been told about the troubling and rebellious guy. He was part of the reason Clarke and Finn had gotten closer – something about a young girl who took her own life.

"Take him to the drop ship." Monty told the boys.

Miller grabbed Connor's arm. "Hold up. He was banished for a reason, Monty."

Monty, who Raven had taken to be a passive personality, met Miller's glare with one of his own. "Banished or not, he's obviously in no condition to take care of himself and we can't just chuck him back out there. Look at his hands – this wasn't an accident, this was torture."

Raven focused on Murphy's hands and bit back a swallow when she saw the bloody pits where nails used to grow. Her own fingers itched in sympathetic response.

"Yeah, and how much did he tell the grounders about us, huh?" Miller replied angrily.

"Probably everything." Monty met his steady stare. "And I don't blame him. We don't know what any of us would do when put in the same situation."

Miller seemed to deflate before her eyes. "Okay – take him to the drop ship. You've been promoted, doc."

Monty hurried after the struggling boys and Raven watched them go, feeling worry begin to burn a hole in her stomach.

She reached out to touch Miller's arm. "When Bellamy and Clarke get back, they can make the decision of what to do with him. It's not our job, alright?"

Miller turned to face her and something in his eyes caused goosebumps to creep along Raven's exposed skin.

"I have a bad a feeling about this…a really bad feeling."

Two hours later…

Raven was crying blood. If she hadn't seen it happen to Connor and Derek first, she wouldn't have believed it was possible to cry blood and stay calm at the same time.

It had started small, a handful of them looking pale, coughing, getting dizzy – then there was the blood. Gushing from mouths, noses and eyes. Derek had collapsed and died in front of her – quickly followed by Connor. Raven had never been the queasy sort, but something about crying blood made her wish she was, just so she could hide away and let someone else sort this mess out.

"Raven!" Miller entered the communications tent and immediately reached out for her.

"No." She backed away with her arms raised. "One of us has to stay healthy. Monty says we should set up a quarantine and you'll need to keep the rest of them calm."

He looked agonised, but stepped back to allow her to leave unaided. He followed her to the drop ship and she arrived in time to see Murphy puking up a bucket of blood – lovely.

She approached him hastily and knelt down to peer into his eyes. Her mind had been working overtime in the intervening hours and she just needed him to confirm her theory. "How did you escape, Murphy?"

He sniffed and lazily met her eyes. "They forgot to lock my cage, so I took off."

She sighed and stood up – a dizzy spell making her head spin, literally this time. It was a classic manoeuvre when you thought about it – who better to bring them down than one of their own – exiled and re-welcomed back into the fold. If you could call what they'd done a welcome.

"It's biological warfare." She told Miller.

"Of course." Monty exclaimed. "They purposefully let him go so he could infect us."

"Shit." Miller simplified her thoughts with one word. "So what do we do now?"

"Now we pray the others return before we're all dead." She was proud when her voice didn't wobble.

Miller looked about him helplessly and Raven knelt down to give water to one of the campers sicker than her. She'd help out here while she still could – things were always easier when she could apply her mind to a useful task.

She glanced up at Miller and saw he was on the verge of saying something but seemed stumped. "If you say I told you so, I'll crush your balls to dust."

Miller grinned at her cockily. "Think about my balls a lot do you?"

"Urgh." Raven blew out a frustrated breath and then started laughing. Once she started she couldn't seem to stop. Miller joined her. It was the kind of laugh that was fraught with nerves and highly inappropriate, but Raven didn't care.

They both stopped suddenly, however, when a young girl burst into the drop ship, panting hard. "There's a grounder at the wall." She gasped. "We told him Lincoln and Clarke weren't here, but he insists he speaks to whoever's in charge."

"Double shit." Miller stated.

Raven laughed dryly. "You're it."

A/N: Thanks for reading guys - Please do keep reviewing – I need all the encouragement I can get right now! Also – if anyone would like to suggest any badass but cute puppy names then feel free :-D