A/N: Thanks for the love, those of you who took the time to review – it's a lovely moment of my day when I get messages saying people liked what I wrote, or that it was worth the wait, or even that you can't wait for more. As you can see from my speedier update, I'm trying very hard not to make you wait so much in the future – but still, the love is so, so appreciated and great at getting my butt in gear! Also – I tried hard with the Trigedasleng again in this chapter, but had to improvise heavily to account for words that aren't in the lexicon I found online, so hopefully it's not too awful.
Disclaimer: All things The 100 related belong to Kass Morgan and the writers of the amazing TV show – the rest is mine!
Chapter Fourteen
Lincoln
For a moment, one tiny, insignificant moment, Lincoln wanted to do nothing more than close his eyes and his mind to the sight before him – the beginnings of abject misery curdling in his gut. But then he watched Clarke scramble up from her bedding, the blankets twisting around her ankles and causing her to trip in her haste to get away from the man reclined beside her. She looked frantic, and uncomfortable, and most of all, nervous. She didn't have anything to worry about – he knew then from her shock and confusion at finding someone sleeping besides her that her kindness had been taken advantage of. He knew the allure she presented to a man who felt the melancholic grip of loneliness – the kind of ideas she could unconsciously project into your mind with one smile, one sweet word – home and happiness and hope. He didn't imagine anyone felt as alone and in such need of a person like Clarke in their life as the long-banished prince of Azgeda. He understood. But that didn't and wouldn't excuse the overstep.
Clarke stumbled to his side and tugged on his arm until he pulled her in close. She was soft and warm from sleep – her cheeks rosy, though that could partially be from the embarrassment. He ran his chilled hands over their curve and pressed a kiss to her up-tilted mouth. "Do not even think of apologising." He assured in a low voice meant only for her. "I have more trust in you than to take such things at face value."
She relaxed into his side with a sigh and kissed his palm. "Thank god. I really don't know what happened – one minute he was asleep across the fire, and the next thing I know I'm waking up with a cuddle buddy."
"You were talking in your sleep." Roan spoke gruffly, reclined back on his elbows looking directly at Clarke, who couldn't seem to fully meet his bold gaze. "I didn't want you to be scared and you calmed once I approached."
"Emlaik ain." (She is mine.) Lincoln closed his arms around Clarke, bracing himself with his feet and shoulders aligned as Roan leisurely stood up and stretched. The leisurely part of his movements was purposely deceptive –his muscles were tensed for a potential fight that Lincoln would not be unprepared for. "Yunowelufaem au – Yunoweteina." (You don't look at her – you especially don't touch her.)
Roan cocked an insolent eyebrow. Yes, Lincoln sounded like a sore bear, but he wanted this cleared up. "Taim emyus, taimm yunowetban emna shil em op." (If she is yours, then you shouldn't have left her unguarded.)
"Vout infemagaf shil em op?" (Since when do women need protecting?) Lincoln grunted. Even if he agreed with Roan's words, he also felt a morsel of protest on Clarke's behalf. Maybe all her feelings on equality of the sexes were finally getting to him – or else it was a reminder that before her presence in his life, Lincoln had never even entertained the idea of protecting a woman just because she was a woman and seemed somehow frailer to him. "Klarknashil emiop." (Clarke can protect herself.)
"Emdula maiemsplita." (She deserves better than a traitor.) Roan probably thought his accompanying smile was charming, but he'd just said one of the few words Clarke was guaranteed to understand and she was now sending him unhappy looks.
"LaiksplitaHaiplana yongon?" (Like a traitor prince?) Lincoln laughed softly. "Questaemvout inyu hed, odnaiblem jun. Trut, odnanaiblemod ful." (Ask her what she thinks of your title, it will matter little. In fact, it will not matter at all.)
"Okay, enough." Clarke rubbed a small hand down his back in a soothing manner and flicked her eyes worriedly between the two warriors. "I understood about ten of those words, but the tone did not sound friendly – and we're all friends here, right?"
"I apologise." Roan pressed a hand to his chest in an oddly gallant gesture. "I meant no disrespect."
"It's okay. A little inappropriate, but misunderstandings happen…so long as it doesn't happen again." Clarke assured him, though Lincoln knew the scowl he directed at the Prince didn't exactly signal his agreement. "I should have made my position clearer to you from the start. I'm with Lincoln – I'm his, and he's mine."
"I understand." Roan looked anything but understanding.
Savage broke the tense exchange in the way only a child or animal could. Up until that point Lincoln was contemplating giving him an award for the world's worst guard dog – he'd seemingly slept through the entire heated exchange until just then, when he poked his tiny, sooty head up from the mess of blankets and barked a greeting their way. Savage strolled through Roan's parted legs, stopping only to sniff Roan's foot and promptly take a piss against the man's boot, then trotted over to circle Clarke and Lincoln until she stopped staring open-mouthed at Roan's shoe and reached down to bring him into their cuddle. He swiped his tongue against Lincoln's neck and he chuckled at the ticklish sensation to cover for the pure male amusement coursing through his veins. He mentally took back every negative thought he'd ever had about the pup - he was the best damn guard dog Lincoln could have asked for.
"Naughty, Savage." Clarke gently scolded. She turned dancing, apologetic eyes on Roan. "I'm really sorry about that, he's not exactly house trained yet."
"No problem." Roan muttered. Behind them he heard repressed sniggers.
Lincoln smiled down at Clarke, pressing a gentle kiss to first one cheek and then the other, all the while he sent subtle warnings with his body language to Roan. He would not be getting close to Clarke again, not if he had anything to say about it. But what was the outcast doing here anyway?
"Why are you here?" Bellamy moved to Lincoln's side and took the words right out of his mouth. The show of solidarity was a welcome reminder that he had made friends here.
"This was…is Roan's home." Clarke answered in an overly bright tone. "We're going to share – there's more than enough room, just wait till you see the scope of the place, and we could always use more allies, don't you think?"
"I'm not sure the prince knows how to share properly." Lincoln remarked in gonasleng so everyone understood his meaning. "Or else he tries to share things that aren't his to stake with a claim."
"Prince?" Bellamy shook his head. "Am I the only one sensing a theme here?"
Clarke turned curious and slightly distrustful eyes on Roan, who looked momentarily discomforted. Good, Lincoln thought – it was better they got everything out in the open. Prince or no, he wasn't higher on the totem pole than anyone else here. Not anymore. "You're a prince?"
"My mother is Queen of Azgeda." Roan neatly deflected.
Octavia pushed her way past Bellamy and eyed Roan from head to toe. There was a mischievous slant to her burgeoning smile that Lincoln had come to associate with imminent nonsensical behaviour.
"I always wanted to be a real princess." She smiled slyly. "How about you show me your version of the royal treatment?"
"Octavia!" Bellamy growled. He shoved his sister behind him, much to everyone's mutual amusement. It was times like these Lincoln was grateful to be an only child, even if he didn't quite understand Bellamy's reluctance to let Octavia near other males.
Raven heaved a big, weary lament from behind them. "Now that we've established the new grounder isn't a threat." Her eyes slid to him. "Or going to steal Clarke away, can we hit the hay?"
"Gosh, of course." Clarke's cheeks turned red again as she turned to survey the rag tag group, some of whom had already lost interest in the drama of their leaders and had settled themselves against the walls to sleep. "Let's get everyone settled in."
She left Lincoln's side to start herding people towards the fire place that Harper and Murphy were diligently building back up again.
Bellamy turned to him with an exasperated expression. "Can I trust him not to snuggle up with my sister while she's unconscious?"
Lincoln watched Roan as he gulped down water from a container. His eyes were still focused in Clarke's direction, though he seemed to at least be making an effort to look away.
"I think you're safe." He muttered. "I, however, may still have a problem."
Bellamy followed his gaze, then turned to Clarke who at that moment looked up from her fussing over a young girl with a bandaged wrist to blush prettily at Lincoln. "At least your problem is one sided."
Bellamy clapped Lincoln on the back and strolled off. The problem really was one sided, it was true. He thought back to those first moments when he had seen another man with his arm around Clarke – sleeping next to her, sheltering her the way he always did. Murderous was a light term for how it made him feel now, but he had always considered himself a rational being, and he'd known, without a doubt, that Clarke would never do something like that to hurt him. Especially after the way space walker had hurt her in the past.
No. Clarke wasn't the problem, but making it known that Clarke was his – only his - had suddenly become his highest priority.
Clarke
This time when Clarke awoke, the earth and spice scent she would forever associate with Lincoln surrounded her like a cosy bubble. She relaxed the muscles that had instinctively tensed upon remembering the confusion of the preceding night, and snuggled her nose nearer, sinking into the fabric of his shirt. The solid arms around her tightened, and the feeling of contentment that was always so near to the surface when her man was close washed over her. He was back. She had hated being apart from him, even for one day.
"You're awake." Bellamy broke the moment. His voice still hoarse with sleep. but she could tell his brain was already engaged with the day's coming tasks. "Good."
"Give a girl a minute to powder her nose." Clarke grumbled.
She tilted her chin up at Lincoln and readily accepted the hot kiss he planted on her. It was lazy, and slow, and had all her nerve endings perking up like they'd received a shot of pure energy. Who needed coffee when they could get a fix of this anytime they wanted? Who needed drugs, for that matter, when a shot of sexy, morning Lincoln could diminish any cravings your body thought it had. Like hunger, she rued with an internal laugh, when her stomach chose that moment to let off a growl to rival thunder.
Clarke and Lincoln rose together and approached Bellamy side by side. He and a few others were sitting cross-legged around the fire, quietly consuming berries and strips of dried meat the others must have managed to stash from the camp before their abrupt departure. Standard Earth rations, she had come to think of them. Bellamy handed some of the bounty across to her, and Clarke took her share before giving Lincoln the larger portion. He frowned at what she'd kept for herself before pouring some of his berries back into her palm. She rolled her eyes fondly at his protective behaviour, but dove into her breakfast without another word.
"Hey." Raven called out from the other side of Bellamy, sounding far too energised for Clarke's still languid brain. "I was thinking of checking out the radio shack today – see if I can get things up and running and bypass whatever was blocking our signal before."
"That's a great idea." Clarke nodded. "Will you be able to find it on your own though?"
"Roan offered to take me." Raven glanced furtively at Lincoln, making Clarke bite her lip in a sudden bout of anxiety, but when he gave no reaction she shrugged and continued. "He seems to know the area pretty well."
"Take someone else with you too." Bellamy grunted without further argument.
"I would say Monty so you had the tech help." Clarke frowned. "But I need him to work on a plan to cultivate crops – I think we can use the open land surrounding this place to our advantage, but to be safe I'd like us to work out an internal hydro-farming system too."
"I'll send Miller." Bellamy cracked his knuckles, looking more alert. "I wanted to send scouts to check out the rest of the town anyway, and they can report back to him at the radio shack rather than trekking back here every time they've cleared an area."
"It's sorted then." Clarke hummed in happiness. She turned to nudge her companion. "I thought you might like to lead a hunting party, to get a feel for the local wildlife opportunities. And maybe fishing – I'm sure Jasper would be happy to help."
Lincoln smiled down at her. "I'd be honoured."
"I'm personally going to see about erecting a wall." Bellamy admitted in a more discreet voice "I know we're safer here than we were at the drop ship, but I don't want to take any chances."
"That's a sensible idea." Clarke nodded and took a deep, relaxed breath. "I think I'm going to work on setting up an infirmary – after I've found volunteers to set up the upstairs rooms for habitation and organisation of the storage rooms. I have a really good feeling about this place – like everything is going to come together for us this time."
"Now that everything is planned to a nauseatingly flawless degree." Bellamy remarked caustically. "There's only one problem, Princess."
"Yes?" Clarke raised her eyebrows.
"We're pretty sure we heard a dropship crash in the woods yesterday evening." Raven supplied helpfully. "Well, something crashed, and it definitely came from space."
"Oh. Well, that changes things." Clarke murmured. Dread filled her stomach like bile. Her mind spinning on the possibilities of what this could mean for them. "Do you think there were any survivors?"
"Only one way to find out." Miller said as he approached them and sat beside Raven. "Someone needs to go and search."
Clarke felt conflicted. On the one hand, they'd fought hard for the right to set up their new home in peace, and now the danger was relatively far removed, it seemed like a good idea to pull everything together and get their society up and running before some other misfortune interrupted their progress. But that calamity might be here now. If there were survivors, they might be injured, they'd need help, her help – it could even be her mom, or the families of the other delinquents. Someone needed to check to be sure and she didn't think she could forgive herself if she delayed going there too long – if something happened and she could have been there to help. That felt a little dangerously close to developing a hero complex, but she could usually count on Bellamy to keep her ego in line.
"I should be able to make enough headway on the infirmary in the next few hours, enough to leave everything in the capable hands of Harper…maybe even Murphy. He's eager to prove himself." Clarke mused. "And it shouldn't be too difficult to find helpers for everything else I had in mind."
"Then I will leave the fishing to Jasper. He showed some promise." Lincoln stood up, ran a hand over the back of her hair and bent forward to kiss her forehead. "I will prepare to hunt, and be back within two hours, ready to leave with you."
Clarke watched him walk away, secretly amused that he didn't argue with her and demand she stay behind like he had before. Her wound wasn't even twinging now, it was a bearable ache, but she had taken it easy physically the day prior when she'd been surveying the house and clearing space. She wondered if his sudden desire to get away had anything to do with Roan, but Lincoln seemed surprisingly mature about the whole situation. She didn't know what she would have done if she'd come across Lincoln sleeping and a woman who wasn't her curled around him. Something that involved lots of hair pulling and biting no doubt. She would have to find a way to make it up to him, though there wasn't much she could have done to prevent it besides being firmer with Roan as they'd interacted yesterday. But, honestly, who expected to wake up and find someone had made such a bold move?
"Do you need more bodies?" Bellamy interrupted her musings. "Or will the two of you be enough?"
Clarke looked over at Octavia as she entered the hall with Artigas fresh on her tail. Savage ran between them, clearly in his element surrounded by so many people willing to play with him. "O will be up for the adventure, and her little lamb needs to be sent home before anyone starts thinking we're kidnapping young warriors. The four of us would be ideal."
Bellamy rolled his eyes to the heavens. "When you finally manage to get him back to his people, do you think you could make sure my sister doesn't stay behind too?"
"Because I live to please." Clarke nodded sarcastically. "But you're on puppy duty."
Raven
If she squinted her eyes just right, Raven could pretend she was alone in the radio shack – nothing but her and the crumbling walls with their faded poster shards advertising music from an era gone by too soon, colourful trails of wires swamping the concrete floor, and some pretty original graffiti around what used to be an observation window into the action of the DJ booths. Strands of light seeped in with the twisting, trailing plants from cracks in the ceiling of the one-story abode, and the hallway was practically an open viaduct with the shells of once-useful rooms on either side, but she kind of liked it for all that. It used to be a small-town radio station, and Raven liked to imagine what it might have been like when it buzzed with activity – the lolly pop twirling girl who might have broadcast a weekend teen segment on fashion choices or the grungy haired guy in his mid-twenties who still lived in his mother's basement and only accepted requests for ear-numbing metal bands.
But then one of the two men stood eyeing each other from opposite sides of the broken doorway, where she'd recently banished them, would open their mouths and make a comment designed not just to be antagonistic, but provocative. And the spell would break. If she didn't know better, she'd think Miller was feeling threatened by the new grounder. But that was ridiculous – what did he have to feel threatened over? Except that Roan was handsome, and brave, and cunning, if that display over Clarke was anything to go by, yet also, apparently, a prince. Who ever said royalty was dead in America?
Okay, maybe she did recognise this fresh need Miller had to puff up his chest and behave like a jacked up, testosterone driven ape of a man. It was just getting on her last nerve. He was reminding her of Bellamy, when really, he should take a leaf out of Lincoln's book and try the calm and assured approach. Much manlier. Like when he'd discovered Roan making his play for Clarke and instead of throwing an epic fit, he'd acted as cool as a cucumber.
Raven eyed the pair of them. "If you two don't have anything nice to say, do the world a favour, and don't say anything at all."
"I have plenty of nice things to say." Miller pulled his beany hat lower over his ears. "I just reserve all those niceties for you."
"Nice one." Raven rolled her eyes. After everything they'd been through together in the past few days, she didn't mind Miller's behaviour half as much as she used to, but she enjoyed keeping him on his toes. "But I'm on to you, Mr Wise Guy."
Miller smirked. "On to me, or on me? 'Cause I know which one I'd prefer."
To their mutual surprise, Roan broke the weighted silence by laughing. It came from deep within his belly, and it was clear he found the two of them too amusing to maintain his distance. Catching Raven's eye as she watched him, he shrugged. "I haven't been around people in a long time and you're funny together."
His admission broke the ice, and to her eternal gratitude, Miller didn't follow up with a witty remark that would spark off more arguments or silent, brooding staring matches that felt like needles in the air. Raven bent her head over the work bench and smiled with satisfaction when she heard the faint buzz and whomph sound from the speakers on the floor. An upbeat pop-rock song pounded through the room, and Raven could hear it echoed from one of the other rooms whose wires hadn't been chewed out by vermin and were miraculously still connected to the main sound system.
"I thought you were meant to be fixing the radio." Miller shouted.
"I am." Raven grinned. "But music increases productivity. Can you believe they used to have time to do scientific studies on that sort of shit?"
As she turned back to the outgoing transmissions board, Miller slid his back down the wall and slumped to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees, and Roan quickly followed. It can't have been all that fun standing watch for the past four hours as Raven first crawled about on the floors, resealing the wires and establishing which connections were operational, before she checked the functional systems and satellites. The scouting party had come and gone three times, each time carrying useful items they'd managed to scavenge from wreckages of other structures. It was no wonder they'd begun taking cheap shots at each other.
After another half hour of tinkering she thought she finally had it. She glanced behind her to see both men had their eyes closed and their heads lolling to the side. She abruptly cut the music off, jolting them both into awareness, and held her breath in anticipation.
The buzz of static filled the room. "Calling Ark Station." Raven leaned into the old fashioned mic. "This is Raven Reyes hailing you from the ground. I repeat, this is Raven Reyes from Mecha station hailing you from the ground."
Nothing but the sound of radio waves fizzing through the air. But she knew the connection was properly established – she'd checked and rechecked her work - she was transmitting on the correct frequency, and the interference that had existed before was out of range and no longer sending its strange noise through the receiver.
"Calling Ark Station." Raven raised her voice. "This is Raven Reyes transmitting on frequency 69871 kHz – I'm hailing you from the ground. The 100 made it to Earth – we're alive down here. Can anyone hear me?"
Miller stood and placed a hand on her shoulder, the same way he'd supported her through the crisis at the drop ship when they'd been left in charge. She looked up at him with the beginnings of dejection in her eyes. Had she really worked this hard, for this long, only to fail again?
"Try it again." He nudged her towards the mic.
"Calling Ark Station." Raven cleared her throat. "This is Raven…"
"Raven!" A scratchy, familiar voice stuttered through the speakers.
"Abby!" Raven could have cried. "Abby, it's me!"
There was a haze of noise, then Abby's voice questioning, "Clarke?" The desperation behind it was clear all the way across space.
"Clarke's alive, Abby." Raven grinned. "She's totally fine."
"Thank god." Abby breathed. "The radiation? It's survivable?"
"Yes – it's survivable – no radiation to speak of. And there are other survivors, people who have been living on the ground all this time."
"Other survivors?" Abby sounded as astonished as they'd felt upon the discovery they were not alone. "…That's incredible."
"You could say that." Raven felt relief and happiness bubble up inside her. "Did you send another drop ship down? Clarke's on her way to check for survivors."
There was a bout of silence on the other end, static jumping across the waves, and Raven got a chilly feeling down her spine. "No, Raven!" The clarity of Abby's voice phased in an out. "…seized control…drop ship…."
"Abby!" Raven rasped. "You're breaking up."
"…Ark dying…all systems failing…don't trust them..."
"Abby?" Raven called. "Abby? Can you hear me?"
The connection was dead. Roan's solemn face seemed to mirror her thoughts, and Miller still hadn't taken his hand from her shoulder, but his grip had tightened. She tried to reassure herself that at least they'd managed to get through to the Ark – at least she'd managed to assure Abby that the ground was survivable and her daughter was alive. But for how long? If Clarke was on her way to effectively rescue a den of vipers, she needed to be alerted.
"We've got to warn Bellamy." Raven stood up, grabbing her pack and stuffing it with supplies from the scouts. "Now."
Clarke
Travelling with two grounders at the paddles made traversing the river upstream much less of the challenge she knew it would have been, had her and Octavia been the ones navigating it's cold, wild depths. They sailed past the spot along the river from where they'd gained their supply of kayaks, and instead continued further and beached them a little down river from where the campers used to collect their water supply. She recognised the sweep of a willow tree in the distance, and the strange stepping stones leading to an inlet they could hide behind when bathing, to prevent the current picking them up and foisting them down river.
Clarke took Lincoln's proffered hand once he'd deftly camouflaged their boats in the surrounding flora. "Have I told you lately that you're impressive?"
His shoulders straightened. "A man always likes to hear his woman's appreciation for his skills."
Clarke laughed. "You're such a cave man."
"But you love it." He teased.
She sent him a delighted smile. If he was teasing her, then maybe everything was more than okay between them. "I do." She squeezed his hand. "I do love it."
Lincoln yanked her closer, folding her arm behind his back so they stayed connected as he kissed her soundly.
"Come on love birds." Octavia whisper yelled. "No time for nookie. We got people to find."
"Are they always like that?" Artigas asked as they disappeared into the brush.
Clarke turned to Lincoln and gave him a disgruntled look. "Why is everyone always asking that?"
Lincoln chuckled and pulled her along, his fingers tangled with hers giving her a sense of peace. As it turned out, they didn't have to reach the crash site to find evidence of their people. As soon as they neared their drop ship and heard the tell-tale signs of life – the clanking of metal and the chatter of voices – Clarke halted them. The familiar peat and pine smell of camp made her eyes water. It would always be their first home on Earth, even if it was literally a crash site. They exchanged concerned but hopeful looks, but she knew that if Earth had taught them one thing, it was that rushing into an unknown situation wasn't wise. It could be the teens who had defected with Dax out of fear, or it could be the grounders reclaiming territory that was once theirs alone. Either way, they needed to do a little reconnoitring first.
Lincoln skirted them away from the camp and helped her and Octavia to climb a large pine tree, it's years on earth countless and its branches sturdy enough to take the weight of four bodies. From his pocket, he produced a type of portable telescope – its burnished edges barely keeping the brittle, cylindrical wood together.
"You first." He held it up to her eye helpfully. "Keep your other eye closed and focus."
Clarke blinked at the sudden magnification of her vision, but quickly located the top of the drop ship as a landmark and worked her way down from there. She knew Raven had closed the drop ship to prevent grounder use, or potential sabotage, but the door was wide open. There was nobody coming to and fro, so she trailed the scope towards the fireplace and beyond it, towards the site of the smoke house. She gasped and all her good feelings about the day vanished. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"What is it?" Octavia hissed. "Have the grounders taken over?"
"No." Clarke kept the eye piece glued to her face, searching through the crowds. "Much worse."
"You're killing me." Octavia groaned.
"Here." She carefully passed the scope to Octavia, perched on her adjacent branch. Artigas steadied her as she put it to her eye, and Clarke watched as the younger girl searched out the camp's heart. When Octavia's mouth dropped open, she knew she'd found it.
Clarke knew what Octavia was seeing in that moment – exactly what they'd hope to leave behind. Nearly a hundred men outfitted in the guard's uniform from the Ark, amassed with guns at the ready and unforgiving expressions, centred around one woman who Clarke had instantly recognised. Someone who shouldn't have inspired this level of a following unless she'd done something shady. Like stolen a drop ship, maybe? There was no way the chancellor would have agreed to send a drop ship down solely comprised of guards – as far as they knew up there, there was no force to tackle.
"Who's that woman?" Octavia passed the telescope over to Lincoln.
She remembered then that Octavia wouldn't be familiar with the big movers and shakers of the Ark because of her odd childhood. "The former chancellor – Diana."
"Good news or bad news?"
"Bad. Very bad – master manipulator, undoubtedly a drop ship thief, and apparently, current prison warden." Clarke bit her thumb nail, trying to decide what to do.
Octavia frowned. "Prison warden?"
"Did you look by the smoke house?"
Lincoln, who still had the telescope focused on the camp, swore under his breath. He passed it back over to Octavia, who she knew, by now, would have sighted the forty delinquents – former delinquents in a sense – handcuffed together with standard issue guard cuffs. Left out in the open – exposed and vulnerable – while Dax sat at the fire, looking for all the world like Diana's new chum.
Clarke put her hand on Lincoln's jaw and caressed it gently. "You know what I have to do."
"No." He said gruffly, forcefully.
"It can only be me." Clarke said. "They need hope, and they need it now, and I'm the only one who might have a chance at talking her down – both my parents were on the council, after all."
Lincoln gripped her jaw, pulling her closer. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "I know what I must do as well."
A tear trailed down Clarke's cheek before she could stop it. They were always coming and going, together and apart and together again. "I meant it earlier."
Lincoln opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. He smouldered, like a fire that could never be put out no matter how many times you tried to drown it or suffocate it.
"I love you." She told him. "I really do."
Lincoln growled into her mouth. "Love isn't a strong enough word for what I feel for you."
A/N: Show me some love, people ;-)
