A/N: I took a few days off guys – man, this heat takes it out of me – but I got there in the end. Had squirrels to relocate on two separate occasions and lots of running around to donate blood and argue parking tickets around work. Hope you guys enjoy this penultimate chapter – only one more later this week to conclude the adventure, and then I'll work on the epilogue to give you a glimpse of the future!

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

Chapter Twenty One

Clarke

As Clarke manoeuvred through the tunnelled air ventilation system of Mount Weather, for the second time in what amounted to a mere few hours, she hoped it wasn't the beginning of a bad habit. Make that a dusty and claustrophobic habit. But this time, at least, she wasn't alone.

Rosa and Davey accompanied her, two of the kids who had helped her back at the old drop ship camp when they'd distributed jobi nuts to Diana's group. She tried not to think too much about those jobi nuts, and the part they'd inadvertently played in making sure the mountain men could capture the rebels from the Arc without much of a struggle. Or any struggle at all really. But that was the problem with plans – you could make them, you could follow them like commandments written in stone, but there were always factors beyond your control. Usually those factors happened to be human beings, or feral dogs. Things of nature at any rate.

Clarke hoped this new plan went off without a hitch, but experience had taught her (quite literally, recently) to try and prepare for anything and everything. An impossibility at its core, but better than being disappointed when things didn't go the way you intended…or, more often, not go your way at all. Not a lot had gone their way since landing on the ground – Front Royal being the exception. Though, technically you could call Roan an uncontrollable factor. They'd had to fight and claw their way to a semblance of normal, for survival, and this was turning out to be no different.

After tying Finn to her bed, in as non-kinky a way as possible. Lord, what would Lincoln think about that? She had quickly recapped all the information she'd learnt about the mountain men since her arrival, and using the map she had stolen, marked out the route for all of the delinquents to get through the tunnels to the armoury, once they were assured the guards of Mount Weather would be sufficiently distracted. They were to steal as many weapons as they could carry between them, and return to the 'storage' room off medical where the caged grounders were being kept – a place where they would receive living proof of her words.

She was pretty sure many of the kids didn't understand the seriousness of the situation, nor believe her entirely – they were blinded by the relative peace they'd been enjoying within the mountain and probably thought she was overreacting like an overprotective parent. Damn chocolate cake. But none of them could resist the idea of an adventure, especially if they could pin the blame on her if things went wrong. So they'd go – they'd follow her plan and she'd hope for the best.

As for the three of them, they were on their way to cause the distraction. Clarke had made a note of the hydro dam operations centre that supplied power to the vast underground bunker, and knew that if anything would have Wallace and Cage in an uproar, it was the source of their protection being threatened. After all, the power supplied them with the system used to deploy their greatest weapon – the acid fog – and not only did they have necessary functions relying on it, like their farming and engineering, they also had the doors to the reaper tunnels secured via the power. If there was one thing they didn't want happening, it was an open door policy being enforced with their rabid neighbours. Then the hunters might become the hunted.

"Are we there yet?" Rosa asked. Her voice was a quiet hiss that seemed amplified in the enclosed space.

She shuffled along behind Clarke, and hadn't made a secret of the fact she thought the plan might be just a little bit crazy, but she trusted Clarke, and she'd volunteered to accompany them, so that was something at least.

"We're close." Clarke whispered back. "Remember, when we get there we're only going to have a small window of time to enact the plan. That means Davey, you need to quickly identify the closest generator. Rose, you and I will distract any technicians to give him time to plant the bomb."

She looked back and could just about see Davey's determined face. He was a thin, weedy kid with a shock of raven hair and a quirky grin. Rosa matched him in looks, except her eyes were a bright blue whereas Davey's were the colour of brackish water. They both looked far too young to be doing this. But weren't they all?

He'd seemed thrilled at the prospect of rigging a homemade explosive with whatever they could find earlier. Now his nerves were beginning to show. She didn't blame him – she just hoped the bomb worked. Playing around with explosives was a risky and temperamental business.

"How do you know we'll be able to get away afterwards?" Davey asked.

"We will." Clarke reassured. "The guard duty is being focused primarily on the armoury and security, it should just be engineers in the work room, and a skeleton crew at best, at this time of the morning. They'll be easy enough for me and Rosa to handle. Plus, we have the element of surprise on our side."

"Then when they come running, the others can raid the empty armoury." Rosa said. She yawned slightly, as if punctuating the fact they were enacting this escapade on very little sleep.

"That's the plan." Clarke said. "Come on, let's get this over with."

They reached the vent she had calculated as their best opportunity at concealment (on the map it looked to be cornered in) with a sense of relief. This was it – show time. Clarke stuck her face against the slatted grate and peered through a gap – she could see the back end of a large, grey chemical cylinder, more of them further in, spaced out in a row at intervals, and nothing else. No workers in the vicinity. The light was dim and a fake chill, like super-charged air conditioning, made her eyes water. She felt around the sides of the grate, got a firm grip on the slats, and at the same time, shoved out with as much force as possible.

Clarke tumbled out onto the floor face first, and only just managed to stop the metal grate from clattering to the concrete and announcing their arrival as neatly as a doorbell. Rosa and Davey followed after her, their landings slightly more graceful, and crouched on either side – their eyes darting from side to side nervously.

"Okay." Clarke balanced the grate cover on the floor by the wall and got to her feet. She stayed low, just in case, and motioned for them both to shadow her. "Let's move."

Davey removed the explosive from the backpack he hugged against his stomach. He would need time to both arm it, and for them all to get clear enough for him to set it off.

A door swung open nearby, betrayed by squeaky hinges, followed by the sound of footsteps. Clarke motioned for Davey to get on with his task. He headed for the nearest generator, scurrying like a rat abandoning ship. She met Rosa's eyes and nodded. They snuck stealthily towards the noise, which had now turned to slight tapping sounds. A voice hummed a tune she didn't recognise. Stopping behind a collection of large, blue metal drums marked as hazardous material, Clarke peered around the corner.

There was a bank of computers set up just inside the doorway, ancient looking things in off-white shells – the kind with curved screens boxed in, that hummed as the processors worked. On the slanted desk below the monitors were an array of indecipherable dials, blinking lights and levers. A man dressed in blue overalls with 'Engineer' stitched on the back stood in front of one computer, running some sort of system check that had digits and commands scrolling across the screen in bright green lettering. He was the source of the humming. He stopped to take a sip of liquid steaming from a 'Best Dad in the Universe' mug by his elbow.

Taped next to the screen was one of those instant photographs showing a kind faced woman with a shock of blonde hair and a sulky-looking, gap toothed little girl. Clarke took one last look at that picture and resolved herself. She nodded for Rosa to head in the opposite direction, then manoeuvred herself, sliding around and against the walls, until she stood in front of the door. Giving it one solid kick with her heel, mimicking the sound it made when it shut, she stumbled forward towards the man. He turned around and his genial look turned shocked when he failed to recognise her.

"This is a restricted area." He fumbled for his radio. "You shouldn't be in here."

Clarke looked around in a daze and turned worried eyes on him. "Wait, please don't report me. I think I'm just lost – someone told me there was a late night snack kitchen in here, but I think they were playing a prank on me."

He lowered the radio and stepped towards her. "Who told you that?"

"One of the guards." Clarke turned her face to the floor and looked up at him through her lashes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a smaller set of feet approaching him from behind and heaved a sigh. "The young, good looking one…he didn't tell me his name."

The man shook his head. "Kids these days."

"I'm really sorry." Clarke said. "I mean that."

Rosa picked up the mug and hit him over the head with it. Hot coffee spilled everywhere and the man collapsed to the floor with a groan.

"Alright." Clarke called out. "Davey, you've got the floor."

Rosa stood over the downed engineer, the mug still clutched in her hand. "Do you think I hit him too hard?"

Clarke watched his eyelids flutter and he let out another groan. She approached and took the mug carefully from Rosa's hands. "He'll be fine. Go and help Davey."

She walked away slowly, and Clarke placed the mug back on the desk. Surprisingly, there was only a small chip from the encounter with its owners skull. She was absurdly glad.

She had just turned to join the others when the door squeaked open behind her. She ducked down behind the desk not a moment too soon. Another engineer, an older man with grizzled hair and a long beard like a fisherman, walked through. Mid yawn, he gaped at his colleague before leaping with surprising dexterity for a big red button under the desk. Unfortunately, crouching to reach what was obviously an emergency alarm put him eye to eye with Clarke.

He hit the button as she exploded out at him. He tripped backwards over his own feet and hit the concrete floor with bone jarring force. Clarke fell to her own knees and winced when his head ricocheted off the hard surface, and he instantly stopped moving.

Overcoming her own shock, the blaring siren finally penetrating her thoughts, she looked up at the red lights whirring all around the room. Seconds later, she watched through a gap in the cylinders as Davey and Rosa ran across the room for the tunnel opening.

"Come on, Clarke. We've got to go!" Davey yelled.

She got to her feet just as the explosion rocked the floor. Fire burst out in small clouds that swooped outwards and then seemed to reverse direction. It headed straight for the computer bank and the entrance to the room. It seemed to follow an invisible path, but the engineers would be toast before others arrived to help.

"Go on." Clarke waved them away. "I'll be right behind you."

She watched them scramble for the hole in the wall and turned towards the unconscious men. She might be willing to do just about anything to survive, but pointless death wasn't acceptable to her. She hefted the elder man, linking her arms under his armpits, and pulled him towards the door. It opened without a keycode and he spilled out into the much cooler hallway – she nudged his legs out of the way, satisfied. When she went back for the first man, the fire had nearly reached him. Feeling a little self-conscious, and not a little sentimental, she tucked the photo into the mug and pushed it into his pocket.

He was much heavier, and she struggled to get a firm grip. Sweat poured down her brow and blinded her. Jeez – it was hot in here. She coughed at the smoke she was inhaling from her deep, exhaustive breaths, and offloaded the second man in the corridor with a feeling of immense relief.

She could hear people running in their direction so she slammed the door closed and made her way for the tunnel. Fire licked at the walls and further small explosions went off throughout the room. It was deafening – the crackle and hum. And suffocating – the thick smoke she could taste at the back of her throat. The computers sparked and melted behind her. It was completely out of control. Lights flickered and went out, leaving the fire to illuminate the scene. What had they done? God, she hoped they'd be able to put it all out. Small explosion she'd said – what kind of bomb had Davey built?!

Clarke grabbed the grate cover to try and cover their tracks a little, and cried out in pain the moment her hands curled around the metal rim. "Stupid. Stupid." She hissed at herself. "Fuckity fuck."

It was scorching hot and her hands throbbed with the instant burns. She wiped away an escaped tear on her shoulder and forced herself to scramble into the tunnel, using just the sides of her hands and spreading the palms open. She stopped just inside to hurriedly rip strips of cotton off her shirt and bind the shiny pink of her palms, then scurried on her way. The tunnels were getting hotter and she couldn't waste time doctoring herself here.

Clarke whimpered as she scrambled about on her injured hands. God, Lincoln was so going to beat her ass when he saw what she'd done to herself. Or more than likely, never let her out of his sight again. The thought of him brought tears to her eyes again, a combination of pain and stress. She just wanted to be with him again. Just be with him.

It took her a while to navigate the tunnels, slowed as she was with her tentative and tired movements, but she knew she was in the right place before she even reached the still open grate. Loud noises came from the cage 'storage' room – shouts and scrapes of metal. Everything sounded quite panicked.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself through the opening and looked around at the chaos. The kids had successfully raided the armoury, only a short distance from here, and had piled the prolific guns and knives and…were those grenades? in a heap in the middle of the floor – it was effectively a cornucopia of weapons. Rosa and Davey were instructing people to release the grounders from their captivity, whilst the others barricaded the doors with the emptied cages, barely waiting for the grounders to exit them before shoving and pulling at them in groups to get the large metal crates in position. She was glad to see their fear of the grounders had temporarily been suspended in light of her truths.

The grounders, as soon as they realised the kids posed them no threat, and were in fact appalled at their condition, started assisting them as best they could. It was a fabulous example of inter-clan team work, if ever she saw one. Maybe something good would come out of all this after all?

Octavia

As soon as Octavia saw the familiar broad shoulders of her brother – and she always thought of his shoulders in terms of broad; strong enough to carry all their family burdens and pick her up whenever she fell – she ran for him. He caught her on the fly, grinning that familiar, cocky grin, and she didn't realise how much she'd missed him until then.

"I'm so glad to see you." They both said in tandem, laughing. They hugged fiercely, then stepped back to grin at each other.

Bellamy glanced over her shoulder and did a double take. She turned to see Lexa approaching – Octavia supposed that with her sheathed sword, her hand on the hilt, and all that swooping crimson cloak and face paint, she made an imposing figure. Personally, she just thought it was hot. Lexa's gaze was indecipherable when she stopped at their side, but she radiated a veiled hostility as she observed the embracing couple.

"This guy is kind of my hero." Octavia grinned at her. "Lexa meet Bellamy."

"Charmed." Bellamy said.

Lexa simply nodded. Her light green eyes flickered between the two of them and her chin raised.

"Lexa is the leader of the twelve clans." Octavia added. "Bellamy leads us, he's kind of like Clarke's sidekick."

Bellamy grunted and rolled his eyes. She turned to him when he tugged on her hand. "You're okay, O?"

"Yeah, big brother." She said. "I'm good."

She looked up to see Lexa watching them, unapologetic in her obviousness. Some of the intensity of her gaze was lost. Was she jealous? Octavia was both amused and intrigued by the idea.

Lexa then swept her eyes over Bellamy's companions and turned her penetrating stare on Roan. "Are you here to challenge my leadership for your Queen?"

Roan bowed his head. "Not today, Heda."

Behind Lexa, her guards bristled as though Roan had lied through his teeth. Lexa seemed to take his words at face value though, and other than a slight nod, dismissed Roan as if he was less than nothing.

A middle-aged woman joined them, and Octavia vaguely remembered her as the Chief Medical Officer who had examined her in the small gap of time between when she'd been discovered at the Unity Day masquerade, and when she'd been imprisoned. Raven introduced her as Dr Abby Griffin, Clarke's mom, after hugging Octavia in greeting.

"Oh." Octavia felt amusement bubble up inside her. "This is perfect – you need to meet this big guy."

She motioned for Lincoln to join her. "Abby, Lincoln. Lincoln, this is your mother in law."

"Clarke's married?!" Abby said. Her voice was so high it tapered off and she coughed into her fist to get her voice back, then clutched at her chest. "When did this happen? How? Who?"

Octavia and Raven simultaneously burst into fits of giggles. "Let's not tell her about the grounder babies just yet." Raven whispered in her ear.

Man, she'd missed girl time. As soon as this mess was resolved she was going to insist on regular girl time. She wondered how Lexa felt about girl time. Octavia swept a casual look over the hardened warrior – she'd find a way to bring her round.

By the time she'd recovered, tears streaming down her face from hilarity, Bellamy had assured Abby that Clarke was in fact single, though very much attached. He was kind enough to tack on that it was probably an eventuality, however.

"So…" Abby eyed Lincoln with clear misgivings. "You're the man who's stolen my daughter's heart?"

Lincoln smiled gently, showing all of that grounder-gentleman charm he was capable of. "I am indeed the man whose heart has been stolen by your daughter."

Abby chuckled. It looked like Lincoln was in the clear. If Abby was smart, she'd know that the quickest way back into her daughter's good graces would be to befriend Lincoln. The quickest way out of them would be to disapprove.

Bellamy turned to Lexa. "So, do we have our treaty? Have you agreed to help us get our people out of the mountain?"

"No to the first, yes to the second." Lexa said. "But only as it benefits us."

"Surely the curing of your sick – both reaper and non-reaper – is a good enough benefit from a peace treaty?" Abby asked.

"But there is no guarantee you can treat them." Lexa responded.

"I'm a doctor." Abby stated plainly. "I'm probably the most qualified medical professional left on earth. If I can't help you get your people back – both in body and mind – no one can."

"Who exactly are you treating for?" Bellamy said. "Because I thought I'd made it clear before when I say the citizens of Front Royal consider themselves a separate entity from the Arc."

"What if I no longer consider myself a citizen of the Arc?" Abby asked.

"You'd abandon your people?" Bellamy's tone of voice was beyond sarcastic. "Imagine that."

"For my daughter, I would, yes." Abby said.

"Well then, you'd better take your citizenship up with her." Bellamy said. "I'm sure she'll have a thing or two to say about it."

"Then that's what I'll do." Abby said. She held out her palm to Lexa. "Do we have an agreement?"

Lexa observed the straight back and direct gaze of the Doctor, then clasped her forearm. "You have your treaty."

"Great." Bellamy said. "Now, how about we get on with freeing the masses?"

"The tunnels." Octavia said. "We've got to make our way back there, it's not that far from here."

"After you." Lexa said. She gestured for Bellamy to precede her. Octavia thought she'd better stick with the two of them, as a sort of mediator. Lord knew, she'd spent enough time in the past acting as a mediator for her brother and others.

Lincoln gently pulled her aside before she could, and looked about to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "This thing…this flirtation with Heda. Be careful."

"What do you mean?" Octavia peered at him, her brow wrinkled.

"It's complicated. There is a saying among our people - love is weakness." Lincoln said. "She is the author of that saying. Just…be careful."

Octavia nodded, to let him know she was taking his warning on board. But at the same time, she wouldn't be here if she took everything at face value and never did anything against the advice of her peers. She jogged to catch up with the pair – there was plenty of time to regale Lexa with all of her brave exploits since coming to earth.

Lincoln

Lincoln had had enough of the arguments. They'd been outside the tunnel entrance for hours, swaying between an all-out breach and a stealthy infiltration by a few. Reapers had spilled from its depths as soon as they approached, and been rounded up after a bloody fight. They were currently hog tied in the bushes, trying their best to break free of unbreakable bonds. He remembered what that felt like.

Minutes ago an explosion had rocked the floor, sent small rocks dripping from the cave entrance like water in a rainfall, and still, no one could coordinate their attack efforts.

They weren't getting him any closer to Clarke, and that was, and always had been, his highest priority. He didn't try to hide his intentions, or sneak around, he simply gathered two metal claw hooks someone had helpfully added to the supply pile whilst discussing their options, and walked into the tunnels, armed in addition with his knife.

He increased his pace, eventually loping through the darkness with casual ease. Some torches still spluttered against the walls, helping guide him on his path, but following the train tracks proved successful, and he found the same container full of bodies they had landed in. In some small way, he was worried he wouldn't remember the way – wouldn't remember any of what happened before the plunge into icy water that had seemed to clear the last lingering of madness from his mind. But maybe it was because it was related to Clarke. His mind subconsciously knew what was important and what wasn't, and helped guide him back to her.

He rocked the container, pushing with all his considerable weight until it derailed, then climbed atop the metal siding and reached for the shutters in the ceiling that had released them from the mountain's grasp.

It wasn't easy prying them open enough that he could fit through the gap. It wasn't easy digging into the metal tubing with the claw hooks, dragging his body up the tunnel one step at a time in relative darkness. It wasn't easy thinking about what might happen if he fell, and it was a hard landing. It wasn't easy thinking about reaching the top and being too late…actually, he couldn't think about that.

What was easy, was rejoicing in the simple pain from smacking his head against the second set of doors as he reached the end of the tunnel.

Lincoln manoeuvred one of the hooks into the gap, and with just one hand gripping the other hook sunk into the wall, and his feet braced on either side of the tunnel, he cranked the side of the trap door down so he could climb up and slide into the room.

He'd made it. Holy shit. He'd made it. He lay on his back for a full minute, breathing deeply.

Noises penetrated his hazy thoughts and made him roll to his feet. It sounded like there was some sort of disturbance going on in the cage room. He opened the security door to slip into the main corridor and was astounded at the sight of his own people, his old people he supposed, working in tandem with his new people – Clarke's people.

And there she was. Her blonde hair shining like a beacon. Her blue eyes flashing as she yelled encouragement and orders with equal fervour. He had Clarke within his sights, felt the powerful impact her presence always seemed to have on him. He stepped towards her, intent on taking her into his arms.

But then Finn stepped out of a tunnel entrance behind her, and before he could shout a warning, the suicidal fool grabbed one of the guns piled haphazardly on the floor, and aimed it at Clarke's head.

A/N: As always, leave me some love if you're so inclined!