A/N: My first ever 100 fic! Might be my last too. I just have so much I'm writing for another fandom, but this was painful and fun.

Based on a tumblr prompt by whumpster-dumpster:

Hitched, wet gasps, tear-filled eyes and ashen white face. Icy shock shivering through their body, torn clothes dark with blood and weak hands pressed to the debris that's speared straight through them.

WARNING: This fic contains graphic depictions of violence, and a major character death.

Arkadia was burning. Clarke's people rushed out of the entrance, coughing, wreathed in smoke. Flames ate up the night sky. She forgot about Roan, forgot about Azgeda, or any deals that had been made. All she saw was her people suffering. Bellamy was rushing towards the chaos with her, at her side, like always.

"Bellamy, what do we do?" Clarke asked as his hand slipped into hers, and their tear-filled eyes met.

"We make sure everyone's safe today, and then we save as many people as we can tomorrow."

He rushed off ahead of her, weaving through people, shouting into the roaring air, "O! O!"

Then he was desperately grabbing at those who were coming from the collapsing station, asking if anyone had seen Octavia.

Clarke searched when she could, but mostly she checked on her people, making sure they were breathing, that they weren't burned.

No sign of Octavia.

Unable to take the anxiety in her anymore, she rushed into the station, even as cables tightened and pulled and screamed, and metal scraped, and the fire roared. The ground shook as part of Arkadia threatened to tear from itself, surely collapse to the ground.

Bellamy had rushed down towards med bay, but Clarke had a feeling Octavia wouldn't be there. Even severely injured, Octavia was usually the center of any fight, and this was a fight. A fight with the forces of nature, a fight with whoever had done this.

Clarke found her above the halls to the engine room, Niylah collapsed by her side. Niylah was gaining consciousness, coughing. Octavia was out cold.

"Clarke," Niylah called. "I tried… I tried to get her out."

Clarke held Niylah, helping her up, as she nodded.

"It's okay. You did all you could. Save yourself. I've got her."

Niylah fell into Clarke's arms as more coughs wracked her body, and already Clarke could feel her lungs struggling for breath, heat sucking at oxygen, smoke filling the air. She held her coughing in, not wanting to worry her friend.

Clarke helped Niylah up, and then set her attention to Octavia.

"Octavia? Octavia, wake up."

She felt her pulse. It was faint, but still there.

"Bellamy!" Clarke called. "Bellamy!"

She wheezed, choked, and she knew her voice was weak.

Bellamy would never hear her.

Suddenly, everything around her shook, the very floor seeming to vibrate, the walls screeching with a high-pitched resonance, and then something massive broke. It was deafening. Clarke tried to grab Octavia, to drag her out, but then weight crushed in around them. She hadn't been able to throw her body over her in time. A sickening, meaty splat, like a body getting torn through, met her ears. Clarke was screaming, doing her best to dig through the still-falling debris and at least cover Octavia's head.

Metal and rubble poured down around them.

When it cleared, Clarke could barely breathe, but even as she struggled, she dug Octavia out.

Octavia's eyes were open, and she was shuddering, gasping with pain. Her face was pale, ashen, tears in her eyes. Blood was on her lips.

"Octavia?" It didn't take a medical expert like Clarke to find the debris plunged through her body. "Octavia, no, no!"

"Clarke," Octavia forced out, voice breathy, hoarse, and so, so weak.

Clarke cleared metal and dust off of Octavia's abdomen, trying to get a better look at the situation. Even while she did that she could observe that the part of the station they were in had managed to survive while the north end of it had collapsed. Walls still stood in some places, but the ceiling was completely torn through.

A metal, debris shard stuck out of Octavia's abdomen, not too far from her stab wound. She wouldn't be surprised if the wounds overlapped. Clarke pressed her hands against the debris shard, and panicked when no blood came out. Oh god, it was keeping her alive. Removing it could kill her, and she wasn't anywhere within reach of proper medical equipment. Clarke took her jacket off, her shirt, leaving herself in her bra, and started shredding her shirt into long strips, doing what she could to tie it around the wound, and to keep the debris in her along with it.

There were tears in her friend's eyes.

"Clarke. Don't."

"It's okay. I'm gonna save you. Bellamy… Bellamy's coming."

"Clarke, I couldn't stop him."

"Stop who?"

"Ilian," she gasped, and then coughed, the inhale clearly difficult for her. Clarke covered her mouth as she too coughed, struggling with the air. "He did this. He killed us."

Clarke shook her head resolutely. "No. No, he didn't kill anyone. Everyone got out."

"I didn't."

"You will."

Octavia looked down at the sharp sheet of metal sticking out of her.

"It's over. I can't… I can't feel my legs."

"I'll get you out, and we'll get you good as new. You're a warrior, Octavia. You can survive this."

Clarke started trying to move Octavia, and she her efforts were met with an agonized scream. More blood came up to paint her ashen lips. Clarke started crying. Oh god, she couldn't move her. Octavia was too injured, and Clarke wasn't strong enough to carry her on her own.

Octavia reached up and her bloody and soot-covered fingers found her hair, leaving trails of black and red in the golden locks.

"Even a warrior... must face death."

"No, it's not your time yet," Clarke assured. "You're gonna be alright."

"Is Bellamy—?"

"Bellamy's fine."

Clarke said it even though she wasn't entirely sure. He was probably still in the station somewhere. But somehow she just knew, had a deep feeling in her gut, he was alright.

Octavia nodded. She closed her eyes, tears streaking her cheeks.

"I don't deserve for him to love me."

"Well tough," Clarke got out, crying in earnest now. "He loves you anyway."

"He's always been a stubborn jackass."

"Guess he taught you that."

"He taught me a lot of things. Pain, betrayal…"

"Octavia, he never meant for you to get hurt."

"I think… I think a part of me knows that… always knew that"

Octavia's eyelids started fluttering, her grip on Clarke weakening.

"Octavia! No! Stay with me, stay with me. Oh god, please stay with me!"

Her eyes opened again, but her gaze was faraway, as if she saw into a place where the battle was finally over, and fallen warriors smiled at her with honor and respect.

"Take care of him. Tell him… Tell him…" Octavia was struggling for breath, coughing incessantly, and Clarke held her.

"He knows. He knows you love him. Bellamy knows."

"Bellamy…"

"May we meet again."

"Bell…"

And Octavia was gone.

Clarke was shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks, clearing tracks through the soot on her face. She lowered Octavia to the floor, and closed her eyelids.

"Yu gonplei ste odon."

Clarke was sobbing over her body now, and all she could think about was that they were doomed, that they'd lost their strongest, bravest warrior, and that Bellamy was going to break.

"O?"

The voice was tentative, but struck through with a vulnerable terror.

"O! O!"

Bellamy was by her side now, picking Octavia up into his arms. Clarke sobbed and held him as he screamed.

"No! No! O, wake up! Wake up!"

"Bellamy…"

"Octavia!"

"Bellamy, she's gone."

"No-o-o!"

He was rocking, holding her limp body in his arms. Clarke just rubbed his back, broken-hearted at the way he shattered before her.

"She died trying to stop this," she got out. "She died a warrior's death."

Bellamy still cried.

"Bellamy? Bellamy, we have to go."

"She was my responsibility! My responsibility, Clarke! We can't leave her like this."

Clarke nodded, taking his arms, and having him gently lower Octavia. "And we won't."

With one hand pressed firmly against the one he had on her abdomen, she used her other to take hold of the debris.

"Bellamy, I can't do this alone."

He shook, tears dripping off his chin and jaw, but he took hold of the debris with her. They tore it from Octavia, and then they rose, lifting her, carrying her with love, and reverence.

When they got her outside, people gathered, and a lone grounder watched, eyes big, regretful.

Bellamy kissed Octavia's forehead.

"May we meet again."

He hunched over her body, like a broken child who had a piece missing from him.

He did. It'd just ripped a hole right through his gut.

"She loved you, Bellamy."

"I couldn't save her, I couldn't save her… She said she was dead! But now… now she is, and—and…"

Clarke grabbed him in a fierce hug. One of his hands held Octavia's, but he pulled her close. She could feel his erratic breathing, the heaving of his body, his strong heart beat in his chest.

"I know. I know."

"My sister! Oh god!"

"She loved you," Clarke reassured. "She loved you."

And still he screamed, and still Clarke felt as if she was stabbed repeatedly, and each knife in her was brutally twisted.

Octavia was dead.

And now they all would be too, but not before suffering immensely first. Bellamy proved that.

What hope was there for any of them to survive? What point?

So all she could do was hold him, while whispering to her dead friend, "May we meet again."