This. Chapter. Was. A. Pain. I just couldn't "see" it. I hope it doesn't show. This WAS going to be two chapters, but I needed it to be Clarke's perspective and I didn't want to add a Bellamy filler chapter because then it would've dragged. So I had to choose between rushed and dragged. But we're getting towards the climax so building tension and all. I hope this doesn't feel rushed, but I always think what I write is rushed. *sings* I've got a lot goin' onnnn in this chapterrr. Please review!

The corridors were silent. No shouts reverberated down the throats of them. No pounding feet sounded from around her. It was quiet. Haunted by the approaching shadow of death. Clarke suddenly felt guilty for her surprise over it. This was what I wanted, she reminded herself. Hours had elapsed since she'd left the workroom, taking refuge in vacant areas and avoiding people. She was still in Mecha, but as another hour dragged by with no visible signs of change, Clarke was beginning to wonder if her message had even done anything.

You're making a huge mistake.

Clarke felt a pang in her chest. No, she didn't doubt what she was doing was the right thing, but she didn't like how she'd left it with Bellamy. Or how he had, for that matter. It anything though, Bellamy probably felt relieved that at least for now, he no longer had to deal with her. Yes she'd saved his life but it was always easier to keep track of one person opposed to two.

Clarke swatted the thought away. Already she was feeling her discouragement gaining momentum, her hopes turning to dust as she skirted down the corridors, carefully, quietly. She was debating to just go back to the workroom, but that in itself was its own risk. She'd left. That was her decision, and she stuck to it as she turned down another corridor.

And stopped.

Clarke blinked.

It took her a minute to process what she was seeing. A line of people-no, a crowd of them-was moving downwards to the Factory Station, like a steady current. Shoulders brushed each others's and for a good minute, Clarke felt confused. Then her eyes roved over the mass, her gaze dropping to the hands clutching an assortment of sentimental belongings-photographs, necklaces, wedding rings, crosses. So many people, lining up...to die.

The realization hit her square in the chest, the force of it almost knocking her over. A sob mounted in her throat, but she didn't let it out. This was what her father had believed their people capable of. Unconditional love, not for the Council or even Earth. It was for each other, for the families they were choosing to leave behind.

You were right, Dad, Clarke thought as she stared at the people, transfixed. But she didn't feel any pride over this. No, the emotion that was steadily growing louder, screaming over all the others, was guilt. I should be with them. It was a fleeting thought, but it became bigger with each passing second. She was the one who had delivered the message. She was the one who had told the Ark its fate. Her father died for it. Why shouldn't she?

Her life had completed its priority. If she died, someone else would live. It could be that simple...

Clarke nearly stepped forward, into the crowd, when something else caught her attention. Guards. And they were escorting someone, led by Marcus Kane. They went against the current of people, pulling along a shorter person, with darker hair swinging behind her.

Mom? Clarke stumbled. What had she done? She was supposed to be on the escape pod with Raven. Had Bellamy-?

No. There had to be another reason. There had to be. Against her better judgment, Clarke walked into the line, keeping her head bowed as she tried to move down it. She felt eyes on her but she wouldn't look up. She wouldn't. She wouldn't. She wouldn't.

Clarke peeked ahead, just enough to glimpse her Mom. That one action made her lose focus and she suddenly collided with something hard. An item dropped to the floor and it was instinct that had her reaching down, for the purple clip that had fallen from the person's grip. Clarke grabbed it and returned it to the hand it belonged to. Survival told her to move back, to keep her head bowed and her face shielded from this possible threat. But this person was handing over their life, and that one thought was enough to draw her gaze up, to the man standing in front of her.

He was older, by the lines in his features and his thinning red hair. She didn't have to ask to know the clip probably belonged to his daughter. Before she could step around him, subtle surprise sparked in his eyes, the color she imagined grass to be. She stiffened, and waited for him to call out to the guards. To draw attention to the both of them.

But he simply said in a quiet voice, "Your father would be proud."

Emotion thickened in her throat and she could only manage a nod before the man started walking again, disappearing through the throng as if he'd never existed. But Clarke would make sure to remember him.

She moved in the opposite direction of the man, easing her way through the people and keeping her eyes down. Clarke pushed to the side until she was pressed against the wall. She sneaked a glance at Kane, who was still escorting the two guards holding her mom. Abby's head dipped in and out of sight but Clarke followed after.

She was just about to cut down the next corridor when an invisible force abruptly pulled her back. A hand went over her mouth and Clarke was dragged inside an empty corridor, losing sight of her mom.

She kicked,-and connected with someone's leg. Whoever it was hissed out a breath and they whirled her around by the shoulders to face them.

Clarke was prepared for a guard. For someone interested in turning her over to the Council. But when she met brown eyes, her thoughts froze in place.

She gaped up at Bellamy, the sight of him actually rendering her speechless. For a second, they just stared at each other, him staring down at her from under long lashes that cast shadows over his cheekbones.

Clarke closed her mouth. "What...What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you," he said plainly. "Raven's gone."

She paused, overwhelmed by the amount of information she'd accumulated in such a short period. "You...let her go?"

This made him glare at her, as if she'd accused him of foul play. "It doesn't matter if I did. We're all headed to the ground anyway."

Clarke's initial shock hadn't even faded yet and this wasn't helping. "What?"

"Jaha wants to launch the Exodus ships. That's if Raven makes it to the ground and gives them the thumbs up that Earth is survivable. And hopefully she'll do that before the Culling."

"But..." Clarke didn't know what to say, still processing the fact that he was here. In front of her. Not on the ground. "My Mom. I saw her. You could've gone-"

"No," Bellamy said pointedly, brown eyes darkening. "I couldn't have. But I already have a plan."

Clarke raised her eyebrows. Neither of their plans ever deigned to be rational. She wasn't counting on that starting now. "Which is?"

His voice dropped to a whisper as he looked at her. Really looked at her, and Clarke saw that same flash of something she'd caught in the workroom, before the closing door had cut it off. And then it hit her-it was that fierceness, that protectiveness. The kind he got when he was talking about his sister. But he wasn't now. Now, he was talking to her.

"We're going to sneak onto one of the ships."

Clarke stared at him, ignoring the sudden urge to make a joke. She even found herself swallowing back a laugh. "We can't do that. Those ships are guarded, Bellamy. Not to mention the attention we'd attract going down to-"

"I doubt many will take notice during the Unity Day Celebration," he interjected, a glint sparking in his eyes. "Everyone will be too preoccupied, including the Council and the Guard."

But Clarke shook her head. "It's always held in the Mess Hall. The closest Exodus ship is held on the other side of it."

He didn't share in her concern. "Maybe all those people are the perfect cover. No one would be looking at us. It's the perfect chance to slip through their defenses."

Defenses. As if this were a war.

She sighed. "Bellamy..."

"Clarke, I'm going to be on that ship," he said, voice radiating determination. "Now you're free to come, bu that's up to you."

There were other worries nagging at her though. "But my Mom-"

"Oh, please," he chastised. "Jaha is not going to float one of his best doctors. Not right now at least. Screw the Council's rules."

Clarke considered this. A part of her didn't want to care. A small part of her didn't. But even thought it was true her Mom had played a vital role in getting her Dad executed, she was the last piece of family Clarke had left, however broken it was.

And his theory was reasonable, his words providing her a small comfort.

"Fine," she said. "But we need to make sure Raven radios the Ark back."

It was his turn to look surprised. "And how do you plan on finding that out?"

Clarke answered by glancing back around to the line of people.

Bellamy gave her a warning look, lips pursed into a thin line. She expected him to fight with her on it, but he obviously didn't think there was any point in arguing because he started with her around the bend. They meshed with the crowd, staying to the sides. Bellamy stuck to the walls, and like her, kept his eyes cast downward. The act didn't seem natural on him and Clarke almost wished he wasn't here.

Almost.

To be honest, Clarke liked having him near her again. She liked not going in this alone, and though Bellamy was coarse and abrasive, he had a brutal honesty about him that she liked. She'd been lied to enough in her life.

They followed the line of people out of Mecha and, as Clarke had predicted, into the Factory Station. She looked up.

Sect 17 was choked with people. Old, middle-aged; Clarke's heart pinched at the sight of some younger folks; still new to life, who had years ahead of them, we're now prepared to give it all up for everyone else.

That guilt came back to her, roaring so loudly it made her hearing dim. Come on, Raven.

Through the mass, Clarke could make out Jaha, standing in front of them all. She knew that Bellamy had seen him too, by the sudden color that drained from his face.

On the left side of the room stood a heavy steel door, and Clarke's eyes landed on the metal wheel just beside it. She didn't need anyone to explain to her what it did; she knew it was the mechanism that would cut off the air. Already, people were moving forward to shake Jaha's hand before stepping through that door.

Clarke fisted her hands, not looking away from the people as they entered the other room, one by one.

"Why hasn't she radioed yet?" She asked quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

Bellamy tensed beside her. "I don't know. She should've by now."

Clarke tore her gaze from the people and looked sidelong at him. "What exactly happened in the workroom? Did you really just...let her go?" She didn't want to accuse him of anything, but she found it hard to believe he really would've just let the pod leave that easily. That was his way to his sister, and Clarke knew he'd rather die than give that up willingly.

His eyes cut to her, jaw clenched. "Nothing that would've made getting to the ground any harder," he said ambiguously.

Clarke felt like there was more to it, but she let it go, for now, drawn back to the dozens of people stepping onto their own scaffold. Fear trickled down her spine as she stared, waiting for Jaha, for someone, to stop them. But nobody did, and soon the line began to thin as they disappeared into the other room.

No. No. No. No. "Raven, come on." What happened? Had she died during entry? Had she lost the radio? But why didn't really even matter. She fact remained that she hadn't radioed them yet. Or maybe she had, and the Council was still choosing to kill hundreds of its own people.

Without realizing what she was doing, Clarke stepped forward. An arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back, keeping her from going any farther. "You've already done everything you could do for them, Clarke," Bellamy said, his usually sardonic tone now solemn.

Clarke's vision blurred and desperation churned in her, but she knew he was right. She shook her head sadly. "Three hundred people, Bellamy..."

"I know."

Sudden fury engulfed her. "The Council should've done something years ago. It should never have come to this. It's wrong. It's all wrong."

"You're right," he whispered, loosening his arm but he didn't remove it from her waist. "But you gave them their lives back, even if it was just for a second. It's their choice. Don't try and take it from them."

Clarke knew there was nothing she could do to manage that anyway, but it didn't ease her disgust. It did nothing to lessen the weight of goodbyes that were filling this hall. It did nothing to quell the truth that children would soon be made orphans.

"No one should have to die so that we can live," she said fervidly.

Bellamy exhaled, his breath tickling her ear. He didn't say anything as she watched the last person step inside the room. Watched as it was sealed shut behind them. Clarke didn't want to see anymore but she forced herself to keep her eyes on Jaha, who grabbed the wheel on the wall and started to turn it.

A shuddering breath rippled in her chest and her voice finally broke. "They deserved better."

"Yeah," Bellamy agreed. "Yeah, they did."

They decided to keep a low profile until Unity Day arrived, two days after the Culling. In the empty storeroom that Bellamy had found, Clarke sat with her knees pulled into her chest, staring off into the distance. She was trying not to think of bodies or broken families, but it wasn't working. Not even her father's watch was helping her keep the images away.

Bellamy didn't sit on the opposite side of the room like he usually did. This time, he sat next to her, head resting against the wall as he looked off into his own direction. The quietness was heavy between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Sometimes their shared silence conveyed what neither wanted or could put into words.

When Clarke managed to sleep, nightmares plagued her, full of sentimental objects and closing doors. She imagined herself stepping into that room, too, clutching her father's watch as she waited for death.

She didn't cry for them, though. She wanted to, but tears weren't needed to grieve for the dead. There would be enough from those three hundred families.

Bellamy tried to say something once or twice, but neither of them seemed eager to talk and that first day passed them by in silence, as quiet as that room in Sect 17 must have been. Had they already disposed of them? Clarke knew those people would be floated. Three hundred bodies would meet the stars. She wondered what the sight would look like from Earth.

It was an unsettling thought that tossed her into another fitful sleep, into a nightmare of her drifting through space where the stars around her weren't stars, but bodies. Their faces turned towards her, unseeing eyes gazing into her own. Objects floated around her. Pieces of jewelry. Those crosses. A tiny purple clip suspended in the dark.

"Maybe it was me," Bellamy said on the second day, so quietly Clarke wondered if she'd even heard him. She was lying down but pulled herself up, facing Bellamy who was staring down at his hands, as if he expected them to do something against his will.

"What?" She asked.

He didn't meet her gaze. "Maybe it was my fault they're dead," he whispered, "You were right; I didn't just let Raven go at first. I almost took the pod. I was this close to leaving her there to die. Maybe I knocked the radio out. Maybe if I hadn't..." He faltered.

Clarke stared at him. Maybe was a big word. Almost as big as if. They tormented, they plagued, and they were always difficult to shake. "This wasn't your fault, Bellamy," she said softly.

He finally looked at her. In his eyes burned anger and something that took Clarke a second to place. Fear, she realized. The fear of himself. "You don't know that."

"You weren't the one who ordered the Culling," she replied. "You weren't the one who closed the door. They gave their lives so that everyone on this ship could live. They did it for their families. Yeah, it probably could've been avoided. But there's no way for us to know how. Don't blame yourself for their deaths. This was still the Council. And they're the ones that will have to live with it."

He stared at her. "After my Mom was floated, I only ever had my sister that mattered to me."

Clarke nodded. "And you'll make it back to her."

Bellamy was quiet for a moment, but seemed to accept her words. "Maybe one day you'll get to meet her."

Clarke smiled. "Maybe."

The Celebration arrived the following day. Clarke tightened and untightened her hands anxiously, until half moons bit into her palms. Though she couldn't hear anything, she imagined the sound of music and pounding feet coming from the Mess Hall. Dances and the excited squeals coming from kids.

Resentment lit inside her. It felt wrong to hold such a large celebration after so much death.

Bellamy stood by the door, glancing out the circular window. "I'm going to check if they've started yet," he said. "You wait inside."

"We've already covered that I don't take orders from you."

"Then consider it a request if that makes you feel any better." He looked over at her and his tone became stern. "Stay here."

Clarke wanted to object, but before she could, he slipped out the door.

She released a breath and started pacing around the room, hands on her hips, eyes on the floor. If Bellamy's plan actually followed through, soon the both of them would be on the Exodus ship. Even if Raven hadn't radioed back, air was still running out and the Ark's options had already been reduced to only one alternative: return to the ground.

Guilt still rattled inside her at the thought of stowing away in a seat that would be meant for someone else and Clarke wished that she had someone on the ground to get back to. There was Wells, of course. Innocent Wells, who'd done nothing but protect her from the truth about her mom. She hoped she could make it to the ground if only to apologize to him.

Minutes passed and Clarke found her thoughts turn to that man she'd run into. Your father would be proud.

Doubt filled her. Would he be? Would he say that what she was doing was the right thing? Would he smile at her and offer her a high-five? She knew he would want her to live. But would he want her to live like this?

The sound of the door opening snapped her out of her reverie and Clarke looked up at Bellamy.

Except it wasn't Bellamy.

Clarke stopped. Her joints locked in place, frozen over by the sight of blue eyes in a guard's uniform. A flurry of questions ran through her mind, but they were scattered, fractured like glass. The room's temperature dropped as she stared at Soren, looking the same as always. Combat boots. The Council seal over his chest. His white-blonde hair impeccably slicked back. Except for the gun; his holster was empty.

In the second his gaze found hers, he almost seemed surprise to see her, but the look instantly diffused, replaced by...glee. It was the most animated she'd ever seen him.

"Well, well," he clucked, stepping farther into the room. Clarke unfroze and took a step back. "It seems I've hit the jackpot."

Clarke mustered up a look of resignation. "How did you-?"

"Find you?" he finished. Another step. "I was just doing some rounds. You see, I've been put on probation thanks to someone's mishap. But maybe it was a good thing, because otherwise I wouldn't have seen Jaha's shooter disappear around the corner and I wouldn't have raised the alarm before looking in here. But if I'm going to be honest, you were the last thing I expected to find." His eyes narrowed. "Partnering with the likes of him? My, haven't you gone a bit rogue."

Clarke walked back more, but he just approached her faster. She looked for something to use to defend herself with, but there was just boxes. Nothing useful. And she knew he would die before letting her get away again.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me?" Soren asked calmly, but anger leaked into his voice, dark and cold as if cut from ice. It matched the glacial color of his eyes. "The dishonor your escape alone brought on me? I was demoted. I lost my team's respect..." He moved closer and Clarke had nowhere to go but to the wall. She pressed herself against it, the steel kissing her spine.

"To think in the airlock chamber, I actually thought I'd killed you. So you can imagine my surprise when your face appeared on my screen in that latest stunt of yours."

Clarke clamored to keep the panic at bay. To look unfazed. It was difficult, though, to stare down a man taller than herself. "Trouble?" she asked, not bothering to keep the disgust out of her voice. "You really want to talk about cost? You lost a position. Those people lost their lives."

In all the times Clarke had been greeted by Soren, she never once saw the man smile. But he did now, and it was derisive as it crept over his thin lips, splitting his face open."So we lose a few low-class scum. Only the expendable die. It's why your father's dead, after all."

He was all ice, yet the words scorched. Clarke didn't often wish people dead. But in this moment, she wished it on him. She knew what he wanted from her; he wanted her fear and her anger, to glean some sort of reaction out of her. He wanted her to cower in front of him and beg for her life. But Clarke was already here, in his grasp. She had nothing else to lose.

"I'm not afraid of you," Clarke said, tilting her chin up in defiance. "I won't even hate you, because you're not worth that much. No," she took a step towards him. "The only thing you'll be getting from me, is my pity."

The air in her throat suddenly disappeared and her back hit the wall. It took her a second to realize that his hand was wrapped around her neck, choking her. Killing her. Instinct reigned and she clawed at his hands as stars dusted over her vision.

His eyes blazed with cold fury and, to her horror, something despicably close to satisfaction. Right then, he looked like the wolfish monsters only found in children's books."The Council will just float you anyway," he said dismissively. "I think killing you now will simply save us all time."

A gurgling noise pushed between her lips and Clarke watched as her vision began to tunnel, darkening at the edges.

With one hand, Soren tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, an endearing move as he tightened his hold over her throat.

"I don't find pleasure in killing people, Griffin," he said, but the look in his gaze was enough to say otherwise. "I find it in putting people in their place; giving them what they deserved, whether that be a cell in the Sky Box or a one-way ticket out to space. I take pleasure in order. And I can't have someone like you screwing it up."

Clarke couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. The stars had grown bigger, clustering into one, huge pit of darkness that expanded over her vision.

"Make sure to give my hello to your Daddy for me."

The novas exploded, but just before blacking out, Clarke thought she heard her name being called. For a second, she thought it was her Dad, but this didn't sound like him. It still had the similar affect as his, though. Despite the air bleeding out of her lungs, it made her feel safe.

A crash sounded. Suddenly the hand over her throat disappeared as something collided against Soren, knocking him to the ground.

Clarke dropped to her knees and dragged in painful breaths, the air like fire as it burned its way down. The haze receded from her vision and she looked over at Soren, where he was being pressed into the floor by Bellamy.

Feeling disoriented, Clarke didn't trust what she was seeing, but real or not, instincts overrode her reason and she moved towards them. "Bellamy, stop," she said. Or tried to say; it was indiscernible, coming out high pitched and broken.

She cleared her throat, and it felt as if nails were raking down the insides of her esophagus. "Bellamy!" This time it was a little more clear and he paused, fist raised above Soren, ready to land another blow.

Bellamy looked over to her, his usually brown eyes now black.

But Clarke just shook her head. "Don't."

Bellamy glared at her. "He deserves to die."

"Not at the expense of us," she wheezed, and looked back at the door. "Leave him, Bellamy. We have to go."

He stayed there for another second before turning his gaze back on Soren, the once stoic guard now crumpled beneath him. Bellamy grabbed him by the scruff of his uniform and dragged his face forward. They were like polar opposites, their stark features clashing together. One was bright, the other was dark. One was made of ice and the other of fire. "You better hope for your sake that I don't see you again," Bellamy said.

Then Bellamy pulled himself up and looked back at Clarke. He quickly moved over to her, gaze sweeping over her neck, scanning for worse injuries. When he found none, he gave her a curt nod.

They broke into a sprint, down the corridor and towards the Mess Hall where the celebration was being held. Forget her fears of being seen.

After that, there was no doubt in her mind that Soren was already coming.

"Long ago, when the Earth was on fire, Twelve Stations floated through space, all alone. Then one day, Mir floated by Shenzhen, and they realized life would be better together..."

As they entered the Mess Hall, Clarke's gaze landed on a little girl glimpsed between the throngs of people. She stood in the middle of an orbiting circle of children, reciting the Unity Story as different flags swam around her, stars and stripes smearing by in a mix of vivid colors.

Clarke and Bellamy pushed forward, moving around the groups of people. Like Bellamy had said, they weren't focused on them. They were focused on the girl, delivering the Story strong and clear.

"The other stations saw this, and they wanted to be together too," she continued. "When all the other Stations were joined they called themselves..." The girl smiled, ready to speak the last lines.

That was when the room exploded.

Clarke caught the blinding flash of light as sparks erupted overhead. The floor beneath her suddenly disappeared and she was launched back, back-until her body connected with the wall. The breath was knocked out of her and she slid to the floor limply, distantly aware of a throbbing pain in her skull. Screams filled her ears, the sound wrapped around her head like cotton.

Once again, shadows danced across of her vision, taunting. Inviting. Her eyes grew heavy and Clarke didn't even try to fight them. This time, she welcomed the shadows, the distant screams lulling her into their embrace.

And the world went dark.