This Black Blood is Without End

Chapter 19 – Friend or Foe

Author's note:

Wow! It's been so long! Is anyone still out there reading The 100 fanfiction? Season 4 is almost here, so I figured I better pick back up with my personal therapy writing sessions. Somehow I don't think I am going to be happy with the new season, so writing this story will have to be my happy escape again. Sorry to make folks wait so long to see the Clarke/Lexa reunion, but it was hard to stay motivated between seasons. Hopefully I can stay on track now and start updating more regularly. :)

~FlyUpInSky

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A dull knock sounded through the tarnished metal of the hatch door leading to his private chambers, and Chancellor Thelonious Jaha raised his head from the reports he had been reading to peer in the direction of the sound. A glance at the clock hanging on the wall beside him confirmed the time and he frowned thoughtfully, tapping the controls on his workstation to bring up the live security feed for the hallway camera. When Jaha saw who it was waiting just outside, her hand still raised impatiently as though already preparing to knock a second time, he allowed himself a small smile that on this occasion, at least, the difficult woman had wisely deigned to be a few minutes early. He hadn't expected her for at least another ten minutes. Not bothering to rise, he closed the video feed with a swipe of his fingers, then reached over with his other hand to key the switch that remotely unlocked the outer hatch. Though he couldn't see the door from his inner office, he knew his guest had entered when he heard the handle turn with the painful screech that was normal for most of the aged metal hatchways of the century old Ark.

Straightening himself in his chair, the Chancellor folded his hands neatly in front of him and schooled his face into what he hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression. Anticipation rose within him as he listened, mentally tracking her progress as she made her way across the main room and towards his office, her elegant heels clicking loudly against the floor. This was a meeting he had been contemplating for the last two days and it was critical that it go well. A moment later, the sculpted cheekbones and tall, slim form of the Polaris Station Representative came into view, and Jaha unconsciously straightened even further in his chair and had to repress the automatic urge to scowl. Not pausing in the entryway as many others might have done, Anya gracefully slipped into his private office and nodded to him, not a hint of hesitation in her calm, unworried demeanor.

"Chancellor," she said, giving him a polite, distant smile that did nothing to soften the sharply beautiful angles of her face.

"Representative Petrova," he replied, forcing his lips into a pleasant smile as well. "Thank you for joining me."

As the only person on the Ark who held a dual status as both a Station Representative and a member of the Council, it would have perhaps been more appropriate for him to address her using the title of "Councilwoman", as that was her higher office. However, from that very first day she was elected to her position on Polaris almost six years ago, Jaha had made a point of only ever referring to her by that title during the Council meetings themselves. Though her claim to the Council seat was perfectly legal and in accordance with the Charter, it irked him nevertheless. At the time he couldn't help but view her as an unwanted interloper, and that feeling hadn't diminished over the years. It also hadn't helped that her predecessor – an older man who had held the position for several decades and had already been on the Council when Jaha himself came into office – had been much more amiable and easy to work with. Rather than take offense to his subtle disregard for her position on his Council, however, the woman instead seemed to enjoy it. Indeed, he suspected that she found more pride in her position as the Polaris Station Representative than she did as a member of the Ark's highest governing body. Though she hid her distain for him and many of the other Council members well, he still imagined that he could sense it there, silently mocking him from beneath her carefully polished surface.

"When the Chancellor of the Ark requests your presence, one can hardly refuse, can they?" Anya said in a playful tone, though the humor never reached her eyes.

As he had not yet invited her to sit, she remained standing in the center of the room, his desk and an unmeasurable gulch of mutual distrust and dislike separating them. For almost any other person on the Ark, being summoned to the Chancellor's office might have been cause for great alarm. After everything that had happened over the past two days – as well as the fact that she had recently spent many hours isolated in an interrogation cell – she should have every reason to be nervous. Rather than uncomfortable, however, the damn woman looked perfectly at ease and relaxed. As ever, she seemed to defy any attempt he made to put her at the disadvantage. As the stalemate dragged on for several long, silent moments, Jaha inwardly sighed in defeat, then gestured for her to take one of the two available chairs.

"Please, take a seat. With everything that's been happening, we have a great deal to discuss and not much time."

"It has been an eventful few days," she agreed with dry amusement, moving to the chair he had offered. Anya slid into her seat with unconscious grace, her agile fingers dancing along the hem of her long, thin skirt as though to smooth away any possible wrinkles in the fabric, though none existed.

"Now that the general population has learned the real truth about the dropship launch, I imagine you've had your hands full simply maintaining order. How can Polaris Station be of assistance, Chancellor?"

He studied her for a moment, letting the silence lengthen and watching for any hint of what might be going on in the mind of the consummate politician sitting across from him, unsurprised when he found nothing discernable. The woman was too good. She would never give anything away to an enemy unless it was forced out of her, and over the course of both their careers they had been each other's political opponents more often than not. Anya didn't trust him, that much was clear, and he had never been able to bring himself to trust her or Polaris. There were just too many unanswered questions surrounding both of them. Now, with the most recent events of the past two days, there were even more questions he wanted answered. If this was going to work, however, and if the people of the Ark were going to be saved, all of the people of the Ark, then their contentious relationship was going to have to change. He hoped that could begin starting now.

"First, Ms. Petrova, let me begin by saying that I have ordered all pending investigations pertaining to you and Polaris Station by the Office of Ark Security to be dropped, and I have also already given orders to the Office of Justice that no charges are to be placed against you. As of this moment, you are no longer officially under suspicion of any wrongdoing and remain fully reinstated as a member of the Council."

Anya did not visibly react to his words and Jaha paused for a moment longer, waiting to see if she would say anything. When she didn't, he continued.

"As for the matter of the most recent Council vote that took place in your absence, I would like to add that I personally feel it was very unfortunate that you were detained during such a moment of crisis on the Ark… I know we haven't always agreed on policy in the past, but I think I'm correct in saying that neither one of us wanted to see the population reduction go forward so soon. Not while there was still hope for the surface mission."

He paused, letting his gaze stray to the small window that looked down upon the swirling green and blue orb of the Earth below, his thoughts momentarily straying to his son, Wells, alive somewhere down on the surface. Bringing his eyes back to hers, Jaha continued.

"I think we both know what Kane's intentions were that day, and I suspect things would have gone very differently had you been present to cast your vote." He sighed and shook his head, his brows furrowing as he allowed himself to feel a moment of mingled frustration and regret. "As Chief of Security, Kane reports to me, and therefore his actions are ultimately my responsibility. I hope you can accept my apology, Anya… I should have seen what he was planning and put a stop to it."

She listened as he spoke, not interrupting and with no discernable change in expression. After extending his verbal olive branch, he paused again to give her a chance to speak, and for a moment her smile briefly turned genuine when she finally replied.

"I think Marcus surprised us all with his political acumen that day… You were certainly not the only one he outmaneuvered," she said, a hint of self-deprecation in her tone, which was something he had not often heard from her before.

Of course, he reminded himself, being detained in a holding cell for twenty-four hours had probably given her more than enough time to contemplate her own mistakes. He would consider it a happy accident if the experience had succeeded in at least teaching the arrogant woman some humility.

"Indeed, it was a surprise, and I assure you that he will be dealt with, though I doubt any reprimand I could give him would compare to the punishment he is already giving himself right now… The weight of so many souls is a heavy burden for all of us, especially considering everything we now know about the true conditions on the ground. If what those kids are telling us is true, then everything we though we knew about the surface has been completely wrong. It's astonishing!"

Jaha shook his head, remembering his own disbelief when he heard the latest transmissions from the surface. Though everyone else on the Ark was elated by the discovery of living survivors on the ground – or Grounders, as they were all starting to call them – Kane had not reacted well to the news. He wondered what Anya's reaction had been when she had been told. It would have been immediately after she was released from isolation, of course. He eyed her thoughtfully, wondering if she had accepted his apology for her imprisonment and realizing he was not likely to get a truthful answer either way.

She never makes anything easy…

"Speaking of which," he continued, and he felt her eyes narrow and focus on him as he segued into the topic they both knew was the real reason he had called her here today, "If what has happened over the past few days has taught us anything, it's that perhaps we shouldn't always assume that we are working at cross-purposes. I think the time is long overdue for you and I to begin to be honest with each other about certain things... Lay all our cards on the table, so to speak. For instance, I know it was you and your people on Polaris who helped Raven Reyes get to the ground."

Anya's lips twitched almost imperceptibly when he said the name of the young mechanic and he knew that he had finally struck a nerve. That damn Reyes girl had shocked everyone with her Ark-wide broadcasts from the surface of the planet, and now there wasn't a soul alive on the Ark who didn't know they had been lied to by the Council. The reaction of the people to this news had been immediate and predictable. With one impossible broadcast that young woman had changed everything, and Jaha and the rest of the Council had spent the better part of the last two days trying to control the fallout.

Of course, what he and everyone else on the Ark all wanted to know was how, exactly, she had pulled it off. In the somewhat limited radio communications they had so far had over the last day and a half, Reyes had refused to give any details as to how she had managed such an incredible feat. When pressed on the issue, she had continued to insist that she had worked alone, then threatened to cease communications entirely if they didn't stop asking her about it.

In fact, if her remembered correctly, her exact threat had been, "I've already told you a dozen times that I did this by myself, so if you idiots waste any more of my damn time asking me how I got down here, I swear-to-God I will turn off this piece-of-crap radio and smash the transmitter with a rock!"

It was ridiculous, of course. Reyes might be a gifted mechanic, sure, but he didn't believe for a second that she had worked alone. Though Kane and his officers had failed to find anything damning in their search of Polaris, there was little doubt in either of their minds that Anya had somehow been involved. This entire plot stunk of her influence. In the end it came down to the simple fact that there was only one person on the Ark who was daring enough, intelligent enough, and possessing of enough of the necessary resources to pull off something as audacious as building a secret spaceship and launching it at the planet… Successfully, that is..

"If you are hoping to solicit some kind of confession, then I must say that this is a highly unusual tactic," Anya said after the moment had lingered uncomfortably long, her eyes still watching him carefully as his suspicions raced through his mind.

"No, nothing of the sort," he protested, shaking his head. "As I said earlier, all investigations into you have been dropped, and you are no longer officially under suspicion for any wrongdoing. I'm not trying to railroad you here, Anya," he said, raising his hands palm up in a placating gesture when he saw her scowl. "Please don't mistake my intentions. This isn't some underhanded attempt at blackmail, or any other sinister purpose you are no doubt suspecting me of right now."

Jaha shook his head, smiling a little at the puzzled frown that briefly crossed her face as she continued to study him intently. He pressed on.

"I know why you did it," he said, leaning forward in his chair and hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice, "and I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but I'm glad you did. It was a truly inspired idea. Getting that girl to the surface with a working radio might just end up being the catalyst that saves us all. I can't even imagine how long you've been planning something like this… It must have taken months, years maybe, to construct a vessel capable of safely landing on the surface. To pull a plan like that off while keeping it completely hidden and leaving no evidence behind, it's really quite impressive of you, Anya, and it demonstrates a level of foresight on your part that is almost frightening."

He laughed softly in bemusement, as stunned now by the miraculous, impossible presence of Raven Reyes on the surface as he had been when he first heard her voice on the radio. Anya seemed unmoved by his words, though he did detect a hint of what might be surprise at his praise.

"Chancellor, I feel I must confess that I haven't a solid clue what you are talking about," Anya protested calmly, as he knew she would. "And to be frank," she continued, a bit of iron entering her tone, her eyes locking on to his, "all of your outlandish suspicions and pointless flattering aside, don't you think it's about time that you stop dancing around the issue and tell me what exactly I am doing here?"

He felt his pleasant expression start to darken into a scowl at her impertinence, but he caught himself in time, taking a deep breath and nodding instead.

"Very well," he began, "I suppose there is no need to beat around the bush. The reason I have asked you here today is really quite simple. Representative Petrova, you and I have been playing across from each other on this figurative chess board for far too long. If the last couple days has taught me anything, it's that we may have far more goals in common than I ever previously thought. Had I known what you were planning with that Reyes girl, rather than stop you from sending her, I would have supported you! There wouldn't have been need for all this cloak and dagger. Moreover, if the coming Exodus has any hope of being successful, we will need the full support of Polaris, just as you and your station will need the rest of the Ark."

Jaha met her steady gaze, his eyes matching hers in intensity.

"This is it, Anya… This is the closing act. The survival of the human race, of our people on the Ark, is riding on the decisions we make in the coming days. There is no more room for petty political rivalries. No more room for secrets and mistrust. We will either all die, or all live, together. The Ark needs Polaris… and I need you."

"What are you suggesting?" Anya asked, her tone thoughtful, her eyes glimmering beneath her slightly slanted lids as she frowned across the dimly lit space separating them.

"A partnership."

"Partnership?"

"Or call it a political alliance, if that makes it sound better to you," he shrugged, waving a hand. "It doesn't matter to me what we call it, but I want us to start working together for a change. To start trusting each other. With everything that's going on, we really can't afford not to. Our people can't afford it either."

"We have never worked well together in the past, Jaha," she said, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips as she dropped his formal title. "What makes you think we could do so now?"

"Because now the lives of everyone on the Ark are truly at stake, and if there is one thing about you I have always trusted, it's that you will do whatever is best for the people of Polaris Station."

Another silence stretched and she continued to study him, her face thoughtful. Finally, a brief smile flashed into life on her lips and she leaned forward, extending her hand across his desk. As ever, her smile was more predatory than pleasant, and he suppressed a twinge of unease as he extended his own hand and their palms met in a handshake.

"Very well, Chancellor, a partnership it is," she said, shaking his hand briskly before pulling away. Anya raised one cocky eyebrow, her grin turning into a more serious expression.

"Now, let's talk about Exodus."

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Soft green leaves rustled overhead, causing their dappled shadows to dance on the ground. In the near distance, a hawk screeched its hunting call, the sound knifing through the slight breeze and reaching the ears of those in the small forest clearing below. The sun glinted off of the knife at Lincoln's throat, glowing like a hot ember trapped in the metal. Her blue eyes met hers; sharp, cold and pure. As cold and pure as the untouched, frozen heart of a glacier. With just that one glance, she ached to see those eyes melt again, to watch their gaze turn warm and intimate once more. Around her, the world's clock seemed to turn almost in slow motion. The leaves whirled their languid dance. The hawk hovered immobile on the winds above. The knife pressed tightly to the Trikru warrior's exposed skin, a bead of red blood appearing on the blade and sliding slowly downwards. As time and shock played their tricks on her stunned mind and the world froze like a picture around them for several indeterminable moments, Lexa slid to a halt and stood, staring at Clarke, completely immobile in her surprise, her mind empty of all but one thought.

Clarke!

Roma and Jones crashed through the brush on either side of her and abruptly Lexa was thrown back into the immediacy of the current moment, time flying forwards again. Tearing her gaze from the miraculous sight in front of her, she glanced left towards the Azgeda warrior who stood only three or four paces away, his sword out and raised between them, his body crouched in a fighter's stance. Her gaze continued around to the left, quickly taking in Roma's equally aggressive pose next to her. The girl's face was white with combined fear and determination. Her finger shook where it pressed tightly to the trigger, but the muzzle of her weapon was pointed unwaveringly at the Azgeda man confronting them. Lexa's gaze didn't linger and was already darting back around to her right, finding Jones standing ready at her other side, his weapon also raised and face rigid with concentration.

His finger, however, did not tremble where it waited ready on the trigger, and his rifle was pointed directly at Clarke.

As her eyes registered the sight of someone pointing a loaded weapon at the woman she loved – for surely it was Clarke, despite the fact that she was different in ways that Lexa couldn't yet explain or fully comprehend – Lexa's sword tip wavered and dropped slightly, all her earlier thoughts and plans instantly abandoned and mind going almost blank with shock. With Clarke here and apparently one of Lincoln's captors, everything had just changed.

"Jones, Roma! Don't!" she started to order them, holding out her free hand and lowering it down in what was meant to be a calming gesture, all the muscles of her body clenching in trepidation as she realized the explosive danger of their situation. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and as she started to speak her eyes sought out Clarke again in disbelief, afraid that if she looked away for even half a second that the other woman might disappear like a forgotten dream.

Their eyes met again, but this time the look she saw in them was quite different from the fierce determination that had been there just before. For a moment there was recognition in those eyes, then a glint of sudden understanding. Lexa's heart lifted as she began to hope that the impossible might be true, that Clarke might actually know her in this reality… Then that understanding she saw turned to horror and fear, Clarke's eyes widening as they stared back at her, and her heart sank once more. Her sword now forgotten and lowered to her side, Lexa took a tentative step forwards, feeling as though she was stepping into a waking dream.

"Clarke…?" she said hopefully, her mouth forming the other woman name without her intending it to. It slipped past her lips as a breathless whisper, barely louder than the rustling of the branches overhead.

She didn't understand the rapid flow of expressions that marched across Clarke's slightly altered face. Lexa's brows furrowed as her mouth began to open again to say something else. Anything, hopefully, that might help to defuse the situation, though she had no clue what that might be. The unknown man beat her to it, however, his words cutting through the clearing and removing any doubt or question as to why Clarke's face held such dawning horror.

"Maunon!" he growled in warning, the terror in his voice causing her head to snap towards him in alarm, like hearing the snarl of a cornered wolf.

Of course… The rifles, the clothes. They think we've come from the Mountain!

"No! Hod op! Beja, hod…!" Lexa started to shout in reply, switching languages in her desperation. At the same moment she heard Clarke also call out, the familiar tones of her voice unmistakable and like music to Lexa's ears, though the words themselves seemed oddly accented.

"No, Martek! Wait, we can…"

It was too late. Both their cries went unheeded as the man was already lunging forward and ducking low, attacking with all the ferocity of one who is convinced that their only option is to fight or die. Roma screamed and pulled the trigger before Lexa could even finish her plea in Trigedasleng for him to stop, or Clarke her own words of caution.

The explosion of the bullet ripping from the barrel was stunningly loud in the quiet of the forest, shocking a flight of crows from their nearby roost in a burst of startled, angry cawing.

Lexa didn't wait to see whether or not it hit its target. The moment the Azgeda man had committed to his attack she was already turning and reaching for Jones, her body feeling like it was moving in slow motion. As she spun and leapt towards him, her left hand reaching for the barrel of the rifle he held, she registered in the corner of her vision that Lincoln was also making good use of the sudden confusion. Somehow managing to slip clear of the knife at his throat, Lincoln twisted his chains free from Clarke's grasp, his knees hitting the soft earth and body curling into a diving roll as he fell. Clarke stood there, her own body now exposed without the bulk of her prisoner between them, the slash of her knife bright in the sunlight as she tried to both regain her balance from his unexpected move and strike at his escaping back.

Time seemed to freeze again, just as when Lexa had first entered the clearing, and she watched in helpless agony as Jones' finger pressed down on the trigger, her outstretched hand just inches away as she flung herself at him, the weapon still pointed directly at Clarke's chest, her own mouth opening into a silent scream as she realized she would be too late.

NO!

The trigger clicked. Lexa slammed into Jones from the side, knocking his weapon down and away, barely resisting the furious, instinctual urge to slash at him with her sword and wrench his rifle from his grip. Jones swore and staggered, falling down to one knee and looking up at her before glancing down at his weapon in consternation.

It hadn't fired.

"What the hell! Lexa, what?..." Jones began, but she was already turning away from him, relief filling her as she saw that Clarke was still unharmed, still standing several feet away. Their eyes met again, this time surprise foremost in the other woman's gaze, though whether it was in reaction to what Lexa had just done or was simply due to the chaos that was now unfolding, Lexa had no way of knowing.

Roma screamed, her voice seeming to claw the very air, and Lexa spun back to face her with her sword up and ready, dreading what she already knew she would see.

Her hastily fired shot had missed. That, or the wound had failed to stop the Azgeda warrior's more skilled attack in time. For a moment, and under different circumstance, it might have looked as though they were simply embracing… Two handsome young lovers caught in a delicate moment under the forest trees. Then Lexa watched as Roma – the courageous, generous young woman who had saved Lexa's own life just days before – collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap, the long piece of metal that had taken her life sliding out of her chest with the final, wet sucking sound Lexa had heard all too many times before.

…And yet another death is laid at my feet. I could swim for days in the blood of those whose deaths I have caused and never reach the opposite shore…

The words floated up through her mind like ashes rising from a burning pyre, only briefly touching her surface thoughts before drifting back down.

As was always the case in the mess of a battle, there was little time for grief or guilt. Those emotions would both come later, she knew. Roma's lifeless body had barely hit the ground before the man had charged into a second attack, his sword, still wet with the blood of her brave Skaikru friend, lashing out at her in a flurry of strikes that she blocked mostly by instinct. He was a skilled fighter, and for several long seconds Lexa had no time to consider anything other than keeping herself alive. The harsh clang of metal on metal filled the clearing and she found herself being pushed back towards Jones, struggling to keep both the man attacking her and Clarke in sight. Quickly reposting after his second series of attacks, she slammed his sword hard to the side when he overextended, lunging forward to kick him square in the chest, the blow pushing him back several paces towards Lincoln. The Trikru warrior was back on his feet and circling, the long chain of his shackles clenched like a weapon in his fists as he scurried away from Clarke and prepared to strike at the man's unprotected back.

"Hod op!" she yelled for the second time, this time with anger and a hint of exasperation.

Her mind worked furiously as she tried to figure out how to stop further bloodshed, though she feared that any attempt at negotiation at this point was probably useless. It didn't matter how many times she told him to stop, or in what languages she did so. Once blood has been spilt, fights tended to take on a life of their own. Whatever had led to this, whatever mistakes she had already made, Roma was already dead… or dying. Her focus now should be on getting herself, Jones and Lincoln out of this alive.

Except, of course, there was Clarke… Clarke! Here at last, right in front of her and most certainly alive, altered though she may be…

Spirits help me! How are you here, Clarke? Why? And with the Ice Nation? How is this even possible?!

Clarke had backed away from the fight as Lincoln regained his feet in front of her, her long, wickedly curved knife still steady in her grasp and feet set wide in a fighting stance. Her eyes darted back and forth between her companion, Lexa and Lincoln, a look of pure frustration on her face… A face that held the unmistakable marks of Azgeda scars long healed.

Whatever she is doing here, I doubt this is what she had planned when she took Lincoln prisoner, Lexa mused for a moment, before needing to dodge to the side as the warrior she was fighting made an even more desperate, reckless attack, his mouth twisting into a grimace beneath his white painted mask. Lincoln rushed forward, swinging the length of his chain and catching the man across the back of his shoulders, causing him to stumble and nearly fall, and Lexa used that opportunity to find Jones with her eyes. The young man was exactly where she had last seen him seconds before, still kneeling in the grass and leaves. His eyes were pinched in frustration as he sweated and swore, his fingers clumsily working the mechanism on the rifle he held.

"Stupid, fucking, useless piece of…!" he was muttering, angry panic filling his voice as he tried to fix whatever had caused the ancient gun to misfire moments before. Trying and failing, it seemed. It appeared as though in the heat of the moment he had completely forgotten the axe still strapped to his side.

Lexa turned back to the fight just in time to see Lincoln slam his chains into their opponent a second time, catching his sword arm and managing to wrap several lengths of the chain around it, wrenching his arm down and to the side in one brutal motion that almost certainly caused injury. At the same time, Lexa saw Clarke take several smooth, silent steps forward. She moved like a stalking forest cat, her face set in deadly determination and knife poised to strike at Lincoln's exposed side.

"Clarke, no! Stop!"

Whether it was from sheer surprise at hearing that name from her lips again, recognition, or just the words themselves, the other woman actually responded. She stumbled to a stop mid-step and looked over at her, her brows knit and blonde head tilting to the side in complete bewilderment. Her confused eyes met Lexa's as she hurried to interpose herself between her and Lincoln, her sword held low, left hand raised in what was meant to be a calming gesture as their shared gaze held and intensified.

Behind her, Lincoln and the Azgeda man grunted and toppled to the forest floor, both men struggling to overpower the other. In the corner of her vision she saw Jones finally abandon his useless rifle and pull free his axe. Each slender second that passed felt like entire lifetimes. Lexa stared back at Clarke, her heart split between joy and panic as she strained to see any hint of recognition in the depths of the other woman's blue eyes. Her eyes never leaving hers, Clarke's mouth opened as if to speak…

Of course, it was at that moment – the moment of greatest chaos and confusion – that the first of the Reaper hunting party burst through the trees and landed in their midst.

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"Clarke, no! Stop!"

The shouted words reached her just as she moved to bury her longknife in her enemy's unguarded flank. Without conscious thought, and despite the immediate threat Lincoln posed to Martek's life, Clarke found herself stopping and turning towards the anguished cry, her gaze meeting the vibrant green eyes of the woman in black once again. In that brief moment, she found herself studying her appearance subconsciously, again noting the strangeness of her attire. A tough looking short coat that seemed like it might be some type of armor, and yet wasn't. Slim, dark pants tucked into the top of high-laced black boots of superior quality, her thick, damp brown hair pulled back from her face and gathered into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. Several loose, wet strands had fallen to frame a face that was both young and surprisingly attractive. The tender expression she found there, and the desperate rawness of her voice when she had called out her name, were both so wildly out of context with the current situation that she found herself hesitating even longer, confusion and indecision trapping her in place

How in the hells does she know my name?!

Clarke willed herself to move, to finish her attack and save her new friend. Martek was in danger. Whoever these people were, it seemed Lincoln was working with them, which meant they were now very much outnumbered, and there was little chance of her ever getting the antidote they sought. If the stories were to be believed, then these must be Mountain Men, but what were they doing here? Why had they followed them?

What in the name of all the spirits had she and Martek gotten themselves into? She hadn't planned for this!

More importantly, why was she looking at her like that? And for that matter… had Clarke just imagined it, or had this stranger with the green eyes actually just attacked one of her companions in order to protect her? These thoughts and questions raced through her mind in lightning succession as the two women stared at each other for several brief seconds.

… How do I know you?

Clarke's lips parted to echo that last thought out loud even as it bubbled up from somewhere deep within her, her sudden need to know the answer to that question taking precedence over everything else that was happening.

The brush shook and burst apart next to her, and she watched as the other woman's eyes abruptly slid away, widening in alarm at whatever had just emerged from the forest. Instinctively, she started to turn, bringing her knife up and across her in a guard position and catching the haft of the axe just as it descended down towards her face. Framed behind the weapon was the snarling, savage and blood-covered face of a Reaper, his rancid breath blasting into her face as he howled down at her.

Clarke didn't even have time to be surprised. Her legs buckled under the weight of his attack, her arm straining to deflect his blow and keep the shining axe head from splitting open her face. A sword flashed in her peripheral, sliding up through the man's chest as it was thrust from below, the tip of it exploding out the other side in a spray of blood just above his collarbone. The monstrous man screamed and gurgled, his axe falling from his grip as he clawed at his chest. Distantly, Clarke was aware of a slim, dark clad presence crouched close at her side, pressing against her almost intimately as she reached to slip her sword up into the Reaper's ribs.

What the…?!

It was her, of course. The stranger pulled her sword down in a swift, violent jerk, and the Reaper fell at their feet as though he were a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Clarke turned her head, and their eyes met again for a fraction of a second, the other woman now so close that she could feel the exhalation of her breath as she let out a relieved gasp of air. Around them, the howls and snarls of Reapers rose to an evil crescendo as several more crashed through the underbrush.

What in all the fiery hells is going on!

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That was too close!

Lexa stepped away from Clarke and the dead Reaper before the other woman could do something ill –advised and unfortunate – such as stab her with that wicked looking knife she seemed to know how to use so well.

"Reapers!" she shouted in warning, perhaps unnecessarily. Her head swiveled as she sought to figure out where they were coming from, the howling that had sprung up all around them being an incredibly bad sign. Obviously Roma's single gunshot had not gone unnoticed. A Reaper hunting party must have been close by, and that shot had been like ringing a giant dinner bell. As she could no longer see them, Lincoln and the Azgeda who had killed Roma must have rolled away into some underbrush in their struggle. She could still hear the sound of their conflict, though she had no way of knowing who was winning. The man's bloody sword lay in the leaves just behind her, nocked from his grip by Lincoln's chains, and Jones not far away, his dark skin unusually pale as he stared at the Reapers crashing towards them through the trees.

"Jones, fall back! Get out of here!" she ordered sharply, and their eyes met as he nodded and turned to run, just managing to dodge the thrust spear of a Reaper as he did so, striking out with his axe at another that approached him with a defiant shout. Lexa almost immediately lost sight of him in the dense foliage, Reapers right on the large boy's heels. The savages almost seemed to be in all directions. Roma was unmoving on the ground. Dead, almost certainly. She thought she heard Lincoln cry out off to her left, though she still couldn't see him. Two Reapers hurtled from around a nearby tree even as the one who had first attacked Jones with his spear turned towards her, rage-filled death in his clouded eyes. Spinning back around to Clarke, Lexa was startled to feel the other woman's hand snake out to grip her tightly by the upper arm.

"Come on!" Clarke hissed, yanking her away from the approaching men, much to Lexa's surprise.

Together, the two women turned and ran, Clarke pulling her towards the closest single Reaper. Releasing her arm just before the man reached them, the blonde girl ducked low and struck out with her knife, her attack precise and swift. The Reaper took the deep cut along his side as she passed, his rough hatchet swinging wildly at air as Clarke skillfully dodged out of the way. Lexa's follow-up attack took his arm off at the elbow, and the hatchet, with arm still attached, flew into the nearby bushes as he screamed in shock and pain.

Not stopping to see if their attacker had been dealt with, or even if she still followed, Clarke forged on, dodging between the trees like a pale mountain rabbit. Lexa raced after her without hesitation, never letting her get more than an arm's length away from her. Their breaths panted in unison into the cool, wet air as they ran together, and the dense woods around them crashed and shook with the movement of Reapers fanning out in pursuit. Lexa's rational brain struggled to catch up with the pace of the events that had just unfolded. From discovering Clarke was alive to now, hardly more than a minute or two of time had passed, and yet everything had changed…

Another Reaper charged towards them from behind a nearby tree, and together she and Clarke quickly cut him down before resuming their flight, their blades weaving together in their combined attack as though they had fought as a pair many times before.

Spirits! How many of them can there be? Lexa wondered, sweat beginning to pour down her neck and back, further dampening her already rain-soaked clothes and hair. She heard more shouts from behind them, and she cast a quick prayer to the spirits for Jones and Lincoln. Scattered in the forest with this many Reapers on the hunt, the situation couldn't be much worse.

They were all on their own now.