A/N: Muchas gracias for the inspiring reviews/messages and continued support – you all rock! Let me know what you think – things are getting more and more dire for our beloved characters – who will make it out alive?!
Disclaimer: All things The 100 related belong to Kass Morgan and the writers of the amazing TV show – the rest is mine!
Chapter Fifteen
Lincoln
Returning to their new home without Clarke was the hardest thing Lincoln had ever done, but he knew it was just the start of the tough decisions and resulting fallouts that were to come. He was at war within himself – even more so than when his heart first started to leap at the sight of a blonde woman from the sky, while his head told him to watch and wait and attack without mercy before his people were endangered. Now he had a new people, and the war wasn't between his heart and mind, but engineered from his complex new feelings. So much newness was enough to drive a man wild.
The rational, understanding part of his love knew that Clarke had the best shot at infiltrating what had become the enemy camp without getting hurt, and together the two of them stood a chance at finding a relatively peaceful solution, if ever there was one to be had. The protective, possessive part of him that always came to life around his new-found lover was screaming at him to go back and drag her away - by her hair if he had to. It was only the knowledge that she would never forgive him that gave him the strength to keep walking away, to put one foot forward and follow it up with another step. No looking back – no doubts.
The entire trip back, Octavia had seethed, more upset than angry, he knew, that her arguments against Clarke being the plant had gone unheard. Artigas had seemed to understand his unspoken need for silence, and instead of deserting them at this hurdle, he was a quiet, sturdy and familiar companion as they first jogged through the forest, then navigated the moonlit river back to Front Royal. The bright lights of various torches set around the old school-house could be seen from the banks when they ran the canoes aground, casting the woods in an eerie glow, whilst alerting all and sundry to their presence. He made a mental note that is was something they would have to change in the future when there weren't more pressing concerns.
The alarm went up as soon as they appeared on the edges of the over-grown lawn and made their way through the ruins of the broken pillars – at least their guard watch was fully operational. Lincoln absent-mindedly noticed that various small plots of land had been dug up and turned over in preparation for seeds, and the fledglings of a wall was begun in the pillars standing upright at equal distances. Clarke would be proud, if she was here. His chest gave an uncomfortable pang.
Bellamy came rushing through the recently reinforced front door and hurtled down the steps as they approached. He went straight to embrace his sister, but his eyes were on Lincoln, dark and serious as he noticed the absence of his co-leader. "Where's Clarke?"
"Busy. We didn't find the crash site, but we did find survivors." Lincoln bent down to pick up Savage, who was snuffling and yipping in welcome around his feet. He seemed to be looking for Clarke, and settled his sad puppy eyes on Lincoln in accusation when he didn't magically produce his new mom. Lincoln looked back up at Bellamy, and he must have had his heart in his eyes because the other man winced. "They've taken over your drop ship – nothing but armed guards came down, led by a woman Clarke identified as your previous chancellor."
"We were afraid it was something like that." Bellamy cursed and set Octavia back. "Sydney, yeah, I remember her."
Lincoln growled under his breath. "You knew there was something wrong with this mission and you didn't say anything?"
"Slow your horses, big guy." Bellamy put his hands on his hips. "Raven managed to get the radio working and got through to the ark – it was patchy as shit, but before comms went down again they gave a warning about a mutiny. Ever since then I've debated sending someone after you, but I figured it would just put more of our people in unnecessary danger. I was getting ready to head out myself when the alarm sounded."
Lincoln lifted his chin reluctantly. "Don't unpack just yet, we need to head back out tonight. We have a treaty to barter and Clarke is counting on us not to waste time."
Bellamy froze. "None of this explains Clarke's absence."
"I haven't told you the worst of it." Lincoln eyed him gravely. "Dax is cooperating with the soldiers, but they've taken the rest of your people prisoner."
"That weasel." Bellamy sighed. "Clarke went in to let them know we were going to save them, didn't she?"
"Did you expect any different?" Octavia eyed her brother in frustration. "We all know Clarke has as big of a hero complex as you."
"No." Bellamy ran a hand through his hair. "How many soldiers are we talking about?"
"Roughly a hundred." Lincoln delivered the bad news without pause. "All organised, heavily armed and certainly trained."
"Too many for us to handle alone." Bellamy nodded acceptance. "How are we going to do this though? Last I remembered, your people consider you a traitor and us interlopers – why would they agree to treaty now?"
"Because as much of a threat as they consider you, these soldiers pose an even greater one. They are older, greedier, undoubtedly jaded from a lifetime without land of their own, and less likely to cooperate and see the drop ship as Trikru land. If you offer fealty, ask to become the thirteenth clan, I could be a representative of the two rather than a traitor of one." Lincoln frowned. "I won't lie – negotiations are never as easy in reality and they may well want to kill me on sight."
"I don't think we have another choice. "Bellamy sighed. "We'll go into this together and hopefully come out the other end in one piece."
Lincoln met his eyes grimly. "Clarke and your people are the priority – getting Heda to agree to a treaty is paramount. If something happens to me, you are not to interfere."
Bellamy began to argue, but Artigas spoke up and Lincoln was reminded of his presence. A reminder that there was someone else with him who might help soften his approach. "It would be a weakness if he was not punished for his crimes against the clan. Disrespectful if you impede on his behalf."
"He speaks true." Lincoln put Savage down on the floor, instantly missing his small, warm body against his aching chest.
Bellamy led them inside for supplies. "I'm not going to pretend to understand these customs of yours. I'm not Clarke, my levels of benevolence are relatively low. But you're the experts and I'll follow your lead for the time being."
"Make sure that you do." Lincoln warned. He was prepared for whatever punishment came his way – he was still a member of Trikru by birth, and by heart, and he respected their ways, even if he didn't always agree. For Clarke, he would take any hurt so long as she was okay.
Clarke
Clarke sat drumming her fingers against the corrugated metal floor with her back resting against the cool wall. She was locked in the uppermost section of the drop ship, out of sight and hearing from the rest of the delinquents. It was a deliberate move to isolate her until she'd been questioned – a smart move. Diana wasn't taking any chances, and she wasn't as naive or uninformed as Clarke had first judged. Dax had obviously given her his version of the lay of the land, the fight with the grounders and the eventual desertion of camp, and Diana was naturally suspicious to find Clarke on her doorstep, alone and unarmed. But exactly how much had Dax shared? Judging by his self-serving behaviour he seemed like the kind of person who liked to keep a few cards held close to his chest, so there was a chance – a slim chance – he hadn't told Diana everything. Which meant Clarke still had something to work with.
She had deliberately feigned a head injury and wandered into the camp confused – the guards had been quick to turn their guns on her, and Diana had been even quicker to get them to stand down upon recognising Clarke, hastening to usher her out of sight. But in one regard, the damage had already been done and the first step of her plan was in motion. One of the older girls from camp, Rosa, a pretty but spacey girl who had followed Bellamy around in the early days had caught a glimpse of her before she was ushered away, and a glimpse was all it took. Soon the rest of them would know that Clarke was alive and among them, and the smartest of the bunch would know she was planning a way out. They'd begin preparing themselves, at least mentally, for the possibility of escape.
Clarke looked up as the circular hatch on the other side of the room was pushed opened with a groan. A middle-aged guard appeared, sporting his raised gun and a severe expression to make sure the room was clear before allowing Diana entry. The older woman pulled herself through the hatch after the guard and wiped her hands on her thighs – her gaze examining Clarke like a specimen under a microscope. She had a placid expression, and she always spoke with a calm, motherly voice, but her eyes were duplicitous – full of secrets and self-interest. Diana had never gotten along with her mother – it was like that age-old adage of a kitchen only being big enough for one woman. They were two hens in the hen house that did not appreciate the division of attention. But Diana had liked and respected Clarke's father – everyone had liked and respected Jake Griffin. Hopefully those opposing views on each of her parents gave her a neutral attitude towards Clarke.
"It's been a while, Miss Griffin." Diana smiled and slowly approached Clarke. "You're looking well, considering."
Clarke's returning smile was loaded with bitter irony. "You mean, considering Jaha sent us to Earth to die like the dispensable front-line fodder of the old-world wars?"
"Yes." Diana appeared to be contemplating Clarke's attitude. "It wasn't right, what Thelonious chose to do in secret, without the people's consent. And your mother…"
Clarke stiffened. "Let's not bring my mother into this."
Diana appeared peeked. "But your mother was central to the success of this mission. Those wrist bands could have saved them all, quite ingenious really, if it wasn't for Bellamy Blake and John Murphy's interference."
Clarke stiffened. "Bellamy and Murphy?"
"Oh yes." Diana's voice was smooth as butter, but underneath there was an underlying tension – an almost imperceptible excitement. "I know all about our young Mr Blake and his bid for leadership. I had heard you and he were a team?"
The implied question lingered in the air and Clarke chose not to answer it. "If you thought Jaha was wrong to send us down here, then why are you imprisoning the remaining delinquents?"
Diana gave her a patronising look. "Because they're still delinquents, Clarke. Until I can assess the danger each of them poses I thought it best to take precautionary measures."
"Am I to be a prisoner too?" She cocked her head to the side, as though curious, even though she already knew the answer.
"I think that's for the best." Diana ran a hand through her hair and turned towards the hatch. "I've heard some very interesting things about you, and while I believe your animosity towards Jaha and Abby isn't feigned, I'm not quite ready to trust you."
Clarke smiled at her. "I didn't think you would."
"And yet you still waltzed into my camp." Diana mused.
The silence stretched between them for a moment, before Diana turned towards the guard. Her tone was imperious beneath the saccharine. "Take her to the others, but I want her watched."
"Yes, ma'am." The guard approached Clarke and roughly hefted her up by her bent elbow. She rolled her eyes at his unnecessary show of strength.
Diana started her descent down the ladder, but paused when only her head was still visible. "I'm not an enemy to be underestimated, Miss Griffin. Smarter people have died for crossing me."
Clarke stopped her before she could disappear. "What did you mean when you said the people on the Ark could have been saved?"
"Jaha wanted to tell more of his pretty lies, but I outmanoeuvred him. There was only one drop ship left and I made sure I was on it." She smiled serenely. "Looks like you don't have to worry about confronting your mother after all."
Clarke felt chills sweep down her back. Could Diana be telling the truth? No one knew how many drop ships were left on the Ark, not even Wells had known as she remembered they'd once debated the issue in depth, musing over the generations years ahead of them that would get to go to Earth on the scheduled return. She didn't have time to examine her feelings – the welling of worry, grief and regret festering under the surface – she really didn't. But still, she offered up a silent prayer that her mum was alright, and that Diana had been lying to provoke a reaction.
Darkness had descended in her time in the drop ship and the night air held a bite that caused her to shiver and draw her jacket closer. She looked up as the guard led her past his comrades, who eyed her with blatant suspicion and distrust, to a section on the perimeter of camp that was partially hidden by the hulking side of the drop ship. The remaining delinquents were organised in two adjacent rows, shackles glinting in the firelight as they worked on with tired grimaces.
"Hands." The guard motioned for her to place her wrists into the thick shackles every guard had used to subdue prisoners on the ark. The last time Clarke had felt the bite of cold metal on her wrist had been when the wristband had been forced on her, the needles pinching her skin as her mum held her close for the last time. The guard stepped back once she'd been sufficiently handcuffed and pushed her not-so-gently towards a gap in the chain gang. Clarke stumbled into place before straightening her shoulders and giving the guard a glare. She turned to the boy closest and winked.
"Clarke." Her name was hissed under the breath of the teens closest to her, passed back like the most honest game of Chinese whispers until the people at the end of the line were glancing over the heads of others to get a look at her. The despair that had gripped them slowly dissipated, and a sense of hope hung around them.
Clarke glanced down at the ration packs they were being forced to prepare and smiled. "I have a plan." She whispered to the two guys on either side of her. "Remember the jobi nuts?"
Her words were met with both determined grins, and several delighted giggles resounded as the message was passed along. They were going to beat the guards at their own game.
Lincoln
Walking into his village as a traitor was tantamount to a bunny rabbit hopping into the den of a fox – not past it, but deep down into the dark and dank layer with fluffy white tail waggling. The deep blackness of night had settled over the village, small trails of smoke trickled through gaps in the tin rooves, but the gentle sounds of people preparing dinner and happily chattering among themselves had died out upon their appearance.
Four warriors marched on either side of their small group, having met them before they could breach the borders of the village, and as they passed by, the occupants of the huts swung open their doors as if receiving some silent signal to watch the procession with curiosity…and more than a little hostility. It was only out of a lingering respect for Lincoln that they were being granted an audience with the leader of Trikru – anyone else and they'd have been killed on sight. It shouldn't have comforted him that there was no kill order, because it left his fate uncertain, but Lincoln couldn't help feeling relieved.
He passed an aging woman, one he had hunted for on multiple occasions, and she spat at his feet, hissing 'splita.' Lincoln paused, his heart a throbbing organ in his chest, before he raised his chin and moved his eyes forward to focus on Anya. She stood ahead of him, at the mouth of the Heda's hut, warriors flanking her sides with aggressive grimaces marring their usually affable faces. These were warriors Lincoln had fought with, trained with – blooded warriors who were once his extended family. But no more. He had chosen love and a different family over the one of old. They would not forget, and it would be a long time before they considered forgiving. They were not a forgiving people.
He stopped several feet away, feeling Bellamy and Octavia pause just behind him, fanning out to his side in a pledge of support. They had kept their party small by consensus, but Raven, Miller, Roan and several others waited in the forest – far enough away to avoid detection, but close enough to report back to camp if they didn't return by morning light.
"Why have you come?" Anya's dark, charcoaled eyes were fierce on him. She swept her gaze over his companions and he saw her mouth tighten, but she had spoken gonasleng, so she must have wanted their participation – or at least for them to understand what was happening, good or bad.
"We're here to treaty." He said with a respectful nod.
"You treaty for these people?" Anya sneered. Her high cheekbones gave her an eagle-like intensity that had made many people quail before her. "Not so long ago you were sent to kill them. Now you take their side against your own?"
Lincoln sighed. "I don't expect you to understand. In truth, I do not understand it myself. But I have given myself over to their leader, a good and kind soul, and it is for her I treaty. It is for her I accept the brand of splita, though I have done, and will do nothing to harm Trikru."
Anya looked to Octavia. "You, girl, he treaties on your behalf? Do you not have a mouth of your own?"
Octavia laughed. "Oh, I have a mouth, and I assure you, it works just fine – care to test it?"
Anya studied Octavia with shrewd eyes. There was a glint of something there when she turned to look at him, something like amusement. "This is not the leader of which you speak. Where is she then, this paragon of virtue for which you forsake your warrior vows?"
"She is prisoner of the ones who fell from the sky earlier today." Lincoln paused to let it settle in. "They are guards – warriors of the sky people who betrayed their leaders and stole the ship. They will bring nothing but destruction upon us."
Out of the corner of his eye, Lincoln saw Artigas appear with Nyko on the fringes of the gathering villagers. He had sent the young warrior away before they'd approached the village – it was bad enough he was branded a traitor, there was no need for the boy to have his life destroyed by association. Clearly, he didn't heed Lincoln's warnings to stay out of this.
"Why would we help them?" Anya said. "They are all the same, these Skaikru. Let them fight it out among themselves and we will kill off whoever remains."
"We've got more bullets than you have people." Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest and gave Anya a decidedly unimpressed look. "You can't pretend you wouldn't sustain heavy losses that could be avoided if we just worked together."
"I don't remember giving you leave to talk to me." Several warriors bristled at his tone and Anya quirked a brow.
"Nobody gives me leave to do anything." Bellamy scorned.
Octavia cleared her throat and reached around Lincoln to pinch Bellamy in the gut. "What my brother means, is that you have no reason to fear us – we were all juvenile prisoners on the Ark, sent down here against our will. None of us means you any harm, and we've done our best to reassure you of that – didn't we just leave your territory?"
"You did." Anya nodded.
"And that was after you played pin the tail on the donkey with our asses and those spears of yours." Bellamy grumbled.
Octavia rolled her eyes. "But these newcomers? They're not going to be so forgiving and you won't survive them without our help. They won't share their technology, their medicine, their weapons – but we will."
"Clarke, their leader I spoke of, she was training to be a doctor." Lincoln said. "She would help you – there are things she knows, things they all know, that would be beneficial to your clan."
"You have given me much to think about." Anya met the eyes of Borga, one of her chief warriors. "But for now, I think it's best you enjoy our hospitality while I do just that."
Lincoln made a move to cover Octavia at the same time as Bellamy, but it was pointless. Warriors grabbed a hold of them and hauled them across the centre of camp to the prison Lincoln knew awaited them. The wooden, barred door was swung open and they were pushed through the yawning, earth-packed hole into the cold, pitch-black of nothing. Lincoln hit the muddy floor and immediately went into a roll. Bellamy cursed from somewhere to his right, and Octavia let off a feminine grunt when she landed nearby. He stretched his neck to look up at the entrance. Anya stood, her silhouette outlined by the vibrant moon and her face in shadows.
"I'm not unreasonable." She said. "But I'm not a fool either."
With that she walked away and the bars were swung into place and locked from the outside. Through the thin gaps, Lincoln could see two guards stationed to watch over them.
"Are we going to die?" Octavia asked in a small voice. He made out the blurry shape of Bellamy crawling over to her and putting his arm around her shoulders in comfort.
"No." Lincoln assured her. He leant back against the sodden wall and sighed deeply. "She will listen to reason. Anya is a good leader, but this is a punishment she must see through – there can be no immediate forgiveness of traitors."
Clarke
The red light of dawn smeared across the tips of the trees in the surrounding forest and every breath Clarke expelled sent a small puff of steam into the air around her. Winter was nearly upon them, and if that wasn't a sign that they had no time to waste, she didn't know what was. They were ready. They'd been worked to exhaustion last night stockpiling rations, collecting firewood and water – something Clarke could understand being a priority for Diana, who knew nothing of Earth's bounty and needed to keep her soldiers happy with the promise of plentiful nourishment and warmth while she devised her next strategy. Then they'd been forced to sleep outside in the elements with only one blanket between three people. Her fingers felt like they belonged to someone far older than her eighteen years, but she clenched them repeatedly to increase circulation and had been directing the others to do much the same all night.
As much as Diana had kept her laser focus on her prisoners, observing their interactions and waiting for one of them to deviate from their set tasks, to attempt an escape, she hadn't seen the deception that was taking place right under her nose. It had been all too easy to gather the nuts the seasoned campers had learned to avoid – slipping a generous portion into each pouch was child's play.
"You, you and you." A gruff guard approached their huddle as they clustered together for warmth and gestured towards those nearest. "You're on breakfast duty – hustle."
With equal parts nervousness and anticipation, Clarke, Rosa and another girl gathered up the ration bundles they'd prepared the night before and started distributing them to Diana's guards. She wove in and out of their drowsy clusters, handing out generous ration bundles filled with berries and nuts with a polite, insincere smile. She passed by several other teens as they handed out fresh water provisions and prepared more wood for the fire – they shared secretive glances when they knew no one was looking, and each moment spent waiting for the men to consume the jobi nuts was like currents of electricity running over her exposed skin. It was nearly time, just a little bit longer.
She walked slowly, giving people a chance to wake up and fill their bellies. They needed to maximise the exposure of the hallucinogenic for this to work the way they needed and she imagined it a bit like a Mexican wave – the drugs slowly sweeping over the camp behind her, one person at a time. When Clarke got to the end of the grouped guards, she came across Dax. She was unsurprised by his scorn as he made blatant overtures of stretching his free hands above his head and eyeing her new cuffs. "Bet you wish you'd backed another horse now."
"Like you, you mean?" Clarke dropped his rations into his lap, deliberately clumsy, and smiled when they fell to the dirt between his feet. "You might have won your race, but it's a relay we're playing and a single person can't win a relay. You're all alone."
Dax swept his eyes over the camp. "Does it look like I'm alone? I have my own army and you're what…a prisoner now? Oh, how the mighty have fallen."
"Diana has her own army." Clarke said. "For now. How long do you think that will last when the grounders start attacking en-masse? What do you think she'll do when she realises what a coward you really are? You have an expiration date and you're too stupid to even realise it."
Dax stood up and took a threatening step towards her. "If anyone needs to be worried about an expiration date, it's you."
"Please." Clarke laughed. "You don't scare me."
"That's your problem…" Dax looked over Clarke's shoulder with a strange expression.
Clarke kept her back to the knots of guards who would be starting to feel the effects of their breakfast, and gave Dax an impassive look. It was happening – she could feel the thrum of rebellion in the air. So, so close. "What's wrong, Dax? Cat got your tongue?"
She watched as his eyes widened comically and he started propelling himself backwards, tripping over his sleeping gear. Okay – that was a bit of an over-reaction to a bunch of drug-happy guards wandering the camp. She started to turn, when out of nowhere a metal canister rolled into Clarke's boots with a clank and started emitting a faint hissing noise – brackish smoke spilled into the air and Clarke began to choke. She covered her mouth and squinted through watering eyes at all the slumped bodies behind her. This wasn't the plan – this definitely wasn't the plan. Her last thoughts before blackness stole her senses, was that Lincoln was going to be really upset when he found out she'd managed to endanger herself yet again.
Lincoln
It wasn't the first time Lincoln had awoken to screams, but it was still jarring all the same. He shook the snares of sleep from his mind and body, and stood to alertness. Dawn was well on her way to passing into the fleshier part of the morning, and he could see wisps of material as bodies rushed past in a frenzy.
"What's happening?" Bellamy cleared his throat and got to his feet. Octavia crouched behind them, her eyes glued to the barred door imprisoning them beneath the earth.
Lincoln listened to the shouts of his people, and one word rose above them all. But that didn't make sense at all – they never attacked the villages as a group. Never had this happened to them before – it just didn't make sense.
"Let me out." He yelled at the one guard remaining outside their jail. "You know you need the extra strength – we can fight."
The guard seemed to waver in his resolve to keep them contained, but after glancing at Lincoln's companions his rigidity was reinforced. "No. I will not betray the command of my Heda."
Suddenly the warrior guarding them slumped to the ground and whilst the three of them backed away in a tense silence, quick hands unbarred the door and a thick skein of rope appeared over the edge.
A rumpled head appeared over the edge and an exasperated voice called out. "Well, what are you waiting for? Are we escaping or not?"
"Artigas!" Octavia cheered. She grabbed for the rope without hesitation and the three men helped push her out.
Bellamy quickly followed, and Lincoln went last. As he hauled himself out of the hole and took the weapon offered to him by Artigas, he frowned deeply at the destruction and panic around them. The peaceful village they had traipsed through was like a scene from a vivid nightmare. Rivers of blood and pained moans – the kind of sights you immediately wished you could cleanse from your mind - then there were the screams of those being dragged away by once familiar faces now warped by the mountain men and their secretive experiments. Reapers.
Animal like snarls came from the side of the hut closest to them, moving ever closer, and Lincoln moved into position in front of the others. "Artigas, get them out of here."
"No." Bellamy gripped his arm. "I'm fighting with you." He turned to Artigas with a grimace. "Get my sister to safety, or so help me God, I'll skin you alive."
