A/N: And we're rocking and rolling! I have a new story idea that I am just dying to explore, so I really want to get this finished up first. I hate starting new projects when the last one isn't finished! I want to write this new idea as a fanfic to share with you all, but my end game is to change the names etc. etc. and turn it into a novel for publication. Exciting! (For me, anyhow, hopefully for you too).

Disclaimer: All things The 100 related belong to Kass Morgan and the writers of the amazing TV show – the rest is mine!

Chapter Eighteen

Octavia

Her scream tapered out to a frenzied giggle. Hot, slick metal brushed against her exposed skin as the chute dropped alarmingly down. Her stomach was way up in her throat, but it was a strange thrill – of knowing you were dropping and couldn't stop it, but a faith that something at the other end would break the fall. Otherwise, she had some choice words to say to Clarke for springing that trap on them.

Part of that giggle – okay, maybe 99.9% of it – was down to the immense relief she felt in knowing she wasn't alone anymore. She was done with being alone – come what may.

Lincoln had dropped like a stone, and below her she could just see the top of his head and an arm flung up as though he could fly himself super hero style back to Clarke's side. Shit. What had she got herself into. The urge to giggle again was immediate. Was this what hysteria felt like?

Amber light suddenly pierced the gloom and they landed in a heap with a one-two thud. It wasn't exactly a soft landing, but it didn't break any bones either. Bruises, she was going to have plenty of bruises. Feeling more than a little dazed, Octavia looked up to the edges of a rusted metal container. They were in some kind of open rectangular crate, and outside of this were rough, dark stone walls and torches wedged up high made of real fire, delivering an eerie glow over the low roof. It smelt rotten, like spoilt meat in the heat of the day, and she gagged. Revolting.

Lincoln grunted a few times and shook his head, seeming disorientated, then lurched to his feet, his eyes shooting straight up as two metal hatch doors in the ceiling closed with a groan. He started to tremble. She knew it wasn't from fear, rather helplessness and rage.

"Alright, sexy grounder dude." Octavia looked down, searching for something to hold onto to pick herself up with.

Almost immediately she wished she hadn't.

They were settled on a dumping ground. Desecrating, to be exact, a damn body dumping ground. A tangled mass of malnourished, bruised, wasted limbs belonging to used and abused bodies. The leftovers from the torture room above she would do anything to erase from her memory. Sucked dry of their life force. And still, blood had congealed in puddles beneath them, and was splashed up the sides of the box. It had looked like rust to her faintly unsuspecting mind. Rust, not dried blood. Never that.

"Holy shit." She exclaimed. She lifted her hands and feet into the air, rocking on her back like a struggling turtle, as though to bodily remove herself from the situation. Wishful thinking for sure.

Lincoln looked back down at her, fury in his expression. Then he looked at the bodies she was staring at – the ones he didn't seem to mind standing on - and grunted. If he had the presence of mind to roll his near black eyes, she got the feeling he would have. But then, the Lincoln she knew wasn't at home right now.

He reached for her arms and hefted her bodily over the side of the container. Like she weighed nothing. Now that she was on the outside looking in, she could see it was extremely old, practically an antique before the world ended, and indeed rusted, but wheeled, on tracks like a train, or on a mining tunnel supply run.

"Thanks, big guy." Octavia said. She wiped her palms shakily on her thighs as though she could wipe away the taint of where they were and where they'd been, as easily as that.

Lincoln used one arm on the edge of the container to heave himself over and landed firmly on the floor at her side, sending a dust cloud up around their feet.

"What do you say we get out here?" Octavia coughed. She didn't want to know what happened to the bodies after they ended up here, she just wanted to get the hell out of dodge before the answers presented themselves.

The tunnel was conspicuously silent. But that didn't mean they were alone down there. In fact, seeing as how these tunnels were obviously reaper territory, it raised the all–important question – How long before they got back?

Without a word in response to her, Lincoln set off on the path to their right. His strides were sure and purposeful, and despite knowing his mental state, Octavia felt a certain kind of confidence herself in following him. He seemed to know where he was going.

This was soon proven both true and highly misplaced, when several hundred yards down their route the tunnel opened out into a main thoroughfare, and the tracks merged with the mainline. Octavia halted on the threshold, and watched as Lincoln stopped in front of a large reinforced metal door. The same door from which the mountain men had first appeared to collect the bounty brought by the reapers.

Lincoln hadn't been looking for a way out, he'd been looking for a way back in. Fantastic.

Clark so owed her for this. Maybe she should start keeping a tally.

"No." Octavia leapt forward and grabbed his arm before he could bang his fist against the door and summon any and all people in the vicinity to their location. "We're not doing this," she said. "Clarke would be so, so mad if you got yourself recaptured."

Lincoln turned to face her. He placed his open palm on the surface of the door and gestured towards it. " Clarke."

"Yes." She said. "Clarke is in there. But we aren't getting her out without some help. Warriors, Lincoln, we need some more warriors."

"Warriors." He repeated. She didn't know if it was her, but his eyes seemed a little bit clearer.

From behind them came the sounds of many booted feet heading in the same direction. A few snarls and unintelligible grunts. Shit. They were running out of time.

"Come on." Octavia grabbed the arm still reaching out towards the door and pulled him back in the direction they had come from.

He didn't struggle, and for this she was grateful, because truly she was no match for him. The chances of them escaping what she was sure were a bunch of cannibalistic drug addicts with sharp weapons were now looking slightly better. Don't panic, Octavia. Don't panic.

They were jogging now, side-by-side. She looked to Lincoln and noticed a fine sheen of sweat covering his body. It wasn't the temperature of the place, because to be honest she was only now noticing just how cold it was, running around in her underwear in what was essentially winter, even if the tunnels were well insulated. Lincoln was sweating the drugs out of his system – the sooner he had a clear head, the better their chances of survival became.

They reached the container full of bodies, and spying a lone woman curled in the foetal position on the floor at the other end of the tunnel gave Octavia an idea. This woman had something she desperately needed right now – clothing.

Wait." She called out to Lincoln when he would have carried on running.

She quickly dragged the clothes – blood stained and dirty beyond belief - off the woman, doing her best to be both respectful and ignore the fact she was stripping a dead body. Her movements were hurried, but despite this the noises from behind them had increased greatly. The tone had changed – there was excitement and violence thrumming in the air. They were now being actively pursued – so much for being stealthy.

Barefoot, but clothed, Octavia felt miles better as they renewed their fleeing, breaking into a sprint.

Fresh air carried towards them on a serious wind, a roar filling the air, buffeting her hair around her face, whipping the small braids against her cheek and making her absurdly glad for her pitstop. Just ahead of them the tunnel ended abruptly, and they both stumbled to a halt, small stones kicking up in their wake and skidding out over the open edge and into the pale blue sky beyond.

"Double shit." Octavia said. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

"We must jump." Lincoln said.

She didn't know what surprised her more, the fact he had finally spoken a coherent sentence that didn't involve the word Clarke, or the words that had actually come out of his mouth. She saw immediately that his eyes were returning to their murky brown colour.

Octavia gingerly tiptoed forward, glanced over the edge, and audibly gulped. "It's a long way down."

They were at the top of the hydro dam, with nothing but smooth, unclimbable walls surrounding them. The water rushing over the side from various drainage holes was like a thousand waterfalls throwing up mist into the cool air.

"We have no other choice." He said.

"Right." She murmured, her heart in her throat for the second time that day. "After you."

"No." Lincoln said shortly. "After you."

Before she could dispute that statement, a hard shove to the middle of her back sent her reeling over the edge. She flat-out screamed until her lungs were bursting. Oh my god. She couldn't believe he'd done that.

While she battled with the wind in her face, the spray of water stinging her skin anew, she worried for a moment that Lincoln wouldn't follow her, and would instead attempt to go back to Clarke now she wasn't there to stand in his way.

She needn't have bothered. She looked up when a short masculine yell announced Lincoln following her down over the edge.

Seconds later, she hit the water. It was a little like hitting concrete, only colder and wetter, and a damn sight unpleasant when it shot up your nostrils. Though, saying that, there was never a good time for anything to be up your nostrils. Another splash and whoosh sounded nearby, muffled under the water.

She pushed her aching body to its limits and clawed her way to the surface through the blanket of bubbles. Spluttering, taking a deep breath, she searched around her for Lincoln and kicked energetically to stay afloat. There – his head rose from the water as though he'd been propelled out by an inhuman force. He frantically looked around for her and gestured towards the banks further down.

Getting the message, Octavia doggy paddled her way against the current. By the time she reached it, washing up on the pebbled shore, she was completely out of breath. Exhaustion slowing her limbs and the cold racking her body with shudders and shakes. Lincoln had got there before her, of course, and he used his superior strength again to yank her out.

"Thanks." She mumbled.

But Lincoln wasn't paying attention. His eyes were directed up and back the way they'd come, narrowed on the cave entrance they'd made their escape from. She followed his gaze, squinting, and her mouth gaped open. Soaring through the air after them were several reapers, intent on following their quarry through hell and high water – literally.

Clarke

Clarke knew there was someone hovering at her bedside, but she kept her eyes tightly shut. Breathing evenly, keeping her limbs long and loose. Nothing to see here people – just a sleeping invalid.

After the footsteps she had first heard passed by the room, there was a bout of silence and then the door had creaked slowly open. More footsteps, these ones soft and singular, had headed straight towards her. The suspense was killing her, but she didn't dare move or do a single thing to give herself away.

"You can stop pretending." Finn said. "I know you're awake."

Clarke's eyes shot open. His face was freakishly close, leaning directly over her, and the feverish glow she had come to associate with his new, bizarre behaviour (especially where she was concerned) was ever present.

"How did you know?" She struggled to sit up and draw herself back against the metal-poled headboard and away from Finn.

"I know everything about you." He said. His tone was rueful, as though this was a great burden placed upon him but one he cherished all the same. "I may not have been allowed in medical, but President Wallace understood I was anxious after so long apart and granted me access to the video feed."

Clarke stared at him with disbelieving eyes. This was a new level of crazy, even for him. "You were watching me…?"

"Don't worry." He said. His hair flopped over his forehead and he looked at her from beneath his lashes. "There wasn't a lot happening for the first half-hour or so, and I couldn't see behind the changing curtain."

"I… I don't know what to say to that." Clarke sucked in a breath. "There was so much wrong with what you just said, I don't even know where to begin. "

Finn noisily dragged over one of the utilitarian chairs from a supply stacked against one wall, and sat down, reaching for her hand and absently patting it before she had the presence of mind to pull it out of reach.

"I watched you disappear through the grate, of course, and at first I worried you were trying to escape. But I should've known. You're too responsible a leader to leave the rest of the delinquents to face an uncertain fate alone. I even cheered you on when you pulled the lever."

Her heart throbbed in her chest to recall the same moment. She thought about Lincoln, and what had been done to him by these people to put that crazed look in his eyes. She wished she could go back again, and kiss him before she pressed the lever. Just once, to give her an extra boost of courage. But she'd still press it – his safety was more important to her than her own. And besides, she had every faith they'd be together shortly.

She thought about Octavia, and the sickening fate of the caged grounders. She thought about the reapers, and the people they used to be. And she thought about the rest of the 100; those of them back in their new home, unaware of the danger in their midst, and those of them, like her, who had been welcomed with open arms by these deceiving creatures. He was right, their fate was uncertain - chocolate cake and plush accommodations, rare artwork and communal banquets were definitely not the only things on the agenda.

She tucked her knees up under her thighs and pulled herself up higher. Lifting her chin, she said. "If they know what I did, why aren't they here arresting me?"

"That's an excellent question. I'm so glad you asked." He crossed his legs and sat back, combing a hand through his hair and giving her a rueful grin. "Having a tech minded ex-girlfriend comes in handy sometimes, let me tell you."

"While they were busy running around, trying to track that savage down with such a high level of incompetence ,I'm surprise they survived this long, I interfered with the recordings." His grin widened. "No one knows what you did, but me."

"Why would you cover for me?" She eyed him warily. "You hate Lincoln."

"That I do." Finn smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "But I can't have you getting in trouble so soon into our stay. President Wallace greatly admires you, but he's not a soft touch."

"Having him out of the picture was just a bonus for me." He said. "I knew you'd never be accepting of our future together while he was still on the scene."

Clarke shook her head at him, one part amazement, one part disbelief. "I don't know why you still insist on perpetuating this dream-world scenario of yours."

Finn simply shrugged his shoulders. "They have grand plans, these mountain men. There's only one thing they truly need from us that they can't get from the grounders - fresh blood."

Clarke raised an eyebrow. "If you've really seen what I saw in the other room, you know that's not true."

"They don't want to spill our blood, Clarke. They want to mix with it. They need our ability to metabolise radiation in their future generations – the grounders are a lesser being, so they're suitable for repairs. They recognise that we're much more civilised – more worthy."

She went silent at the implications behind what he said. What the actual hell was going on with these people?

"You're talking about a breeding programme." Clarke sent him a disgusted look. "You expect me and the other girls to be used as broodmares?"

"You don't have anything to worry about." He said. "You've been promised to me."

"Not in your wildest dreams." She stood up on the opposite side of the bed to him, using it as a shield.

"Unless you want me to tell them exactly where they can find the rest of your little friends; their names, their strengths and weaknesses, the layout of your new encampment…well, you get the idea, you might want to start entertaining the idea that sometimes dreams really do come true."

"You're lying." Clarke frowned. "You've never even seen our new home."

"I had a highly interesting chat with someone you might remember, goes by the name of Dax. Apparently, he had spies in your midst."

Bellamy

Whoever said you could judge a society by how well it treats it's prisoners was seriously onto something. Water? Food? A blanket? They should be so lucky. So far, this experience had sucked. He'd been in way worse though, so his spirits should have been relatively high. If he wasn't trapped with a mouthy brunette intent on putting the blame for their incarceration on him that is.

"Aren't leaders supposed to be diplomatic?" Raven asked. "You sure bit the bullet on that one."

He sighed. "Are you seriously defending their actions?"

"I'm not defending them." She said. "I'm in here with you, aren't I?"

"Unfortunately."

"I'm just saying…maybe antagonising them wasn't the smartest thing you could have done."

Bellamy rolled his eyes, and in the process examined the room for the umpteenth time, looking for a way out that didn't require him magically transforming to the size of a kids doll.

Wires hung from the ceiling like rainbowed spaghetti, tree branches breaching through gaps in the metal enclosure they found themselves in – sunlight leaking through like water in a sieve. The backs of two tow-headed guards could be seen through the clear doors keeping them locked inside. Surprisingly intact doors, considering the collapsed corridor section they were housed in had gone from rectangular in shape to more of an odd triangle.

Raven was perched on a fallen ladder, her feet hooked over the rungs and her hair trailing on the floor. For himself, he'd chosen to slump on the floor in the corner, where he could see the entire scope of the place, and see anyone coming before they saw him. It wasn't comfortable, but since when was prison comfortable?

"Maybe you could quit rehashing old news and think of a way to get us out of here." He finally said.

"Again, isn't that your job, oh great leader?" Raven laughed bitterly.

"Snap out of it." Bellamy growled. "We're in this situation together whether you like it or not. Besides, nobody asked you to speak up for me, did they?"

"Believe me." Raven said. She kicked out at the wall and made a sound of frustration when it just sent out a peel of noise. "I'm being soundly punished for that."

"Being a bitch helps no one."

"Now, is that any way to talk to a lady?" The disembodied voice came from outside of the ship. Bellamy made out the shape of a jaw, stubbled skin and a lock of greasy dark hair.

"Murphy?" Bellamy squinted towards the gap. "Is that you?"

"Who else would it be?" he snarked. "You know anyone else stupid enough to attempt this?"

"No." Raven replied. "And who you calling a lady?"

"The camp?" Bellamy ignored Raven and shot to his feet. "Is everything okay…"

"It's fine." He said. "Monty's busy turning the rest of our people into little farmers and housewives."

"How did you even get in here?" Raven sat up and scowled at them.

"He had a little help." Abby stepped forward, blocking the pool of light from a large gap next to the one Murphy hovered at.

"You know." Bellamy nodded and looked back at Murphy. "I think this is the first time I've genuinely been glad to see you."

Murphy laughed dryly. "Please…stop. I think there might be a tear in my eye."

"Don't get used to it." Bellamy said.

"So, what's the plan?" Raven pushed Bellamy out of the way and looked earnestly at Abby.

Right then, there was a deep rumble beneath their feet, and metal screeched and groaned under pressure as several small explosions rocked the ship.

"What in the hell was that?" Bellamy shouted to be heard over the overwhelming cries and screams suddenly coming from outside.

"The distraction." Murphy said. "Don't worry – no one was hurt."

He set a small contraption down on the floor, fiddling with it for a second, and Bellamy eyed it through yet another gap. "And that is?"

"Your way out." Murphy smiled. "You might wanna step back."

Bellamy grabbed Raven and hauled her around a corner, taking shelter just in time as a small explosion burst a hole the size of a large trunk in the side of the wall. Not waiting for the smoke to clear, Bellamy squeezed his way through the gap, towing a baffled Raven along with him.

"Did that really happen?" She asked him.

Murphy and Abby crept out from behind a large wedge of rock and hustled them over. He looked at Abby curiously, wandering what had made her change her mind about them.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Explanations can come later. First things first." Abby said. "We meet up with the others. Then, you take me to my daughter."

A/N: Thanks for reading peeps! As always, let me know what you think if you feel like sharing the love 3