Hey! So, here's chapter 4! Hope you enjoy and please read and review!
Disclaimer: Still don't own The 100. No shock there.
Redemption
Chapter 4
Days flew by after that, blurring together in an ongoing cycle of chores until the end of the week crashed into existance.
Clarke woke with the sun, as usual, quickly dressing before hobbling out kf her tent and into the open area at the center of Arkadia. The girl stood for a moment, leaning heavily on her crutches as her eyes observed everyone lazily begin their routine. She wasn't surprised to come across a lack of Bellamy wandering in the morning air. He tended to sleep in a bit, exhaustion finally reaching him in the early hours, after a night of assaulting nightmares. Clarke understood all too well.
Pulling in a deep breath, she began limping her way across camp, making her way to medical. As she pushed the flaps to the side, she was met with her mother taking inventory of the bandages and other supplies.
"Morning," Clarke greeted.
"Morning," Abby replied distractedly, not looking up from her task.
The blonde watched as her mother finished her job, taking a seat on one of the empty palletes. The doctor smiled and joined her.
"The week's up," Clarke admitted, not looking the older woman in the eye.
"What have you decided?"
Clarke had told Abby about her deal with Bellamy days before, her mother listening supportiving as Clarke told her of the things she had done, tears dripping down her pale cheeks.
"I don't know," Clarke whispered defeatedly.
"Clarke," the doctor took her daughter's hands in her own. "Whatever you decide, I will always love you."
The teen nodded, unsure of how to rrspond. Abby put an arm around her shoulder, pulling the girl into a hug. The pair sat like that for a moment before Abby broke the silence.
"Wanna help out for a while?"
Clarke's response was to rise to her feet, taking a moment to find her balance on the metal rods before following the brunette.
After an hour of sorting through bandages and herbs, Clarke made her way out of medical toward Bellamy's tent. She found him standing just outside the door, back arched in a stretch. As he fell from his stretch, his brown eyes fell on the crippled blonde.
"Can we talk?"
"Sure," he nodded toward the tent in an invitation. The two entered the small tent unnoticed.
"So," Bellamy spun around to face her.
Before Clarke could even open her mouth to begin, the conversation was interupted by shouts coming from outside.
"Bellamy! Come quick, the camp is surrounded!" Octavia's voice rang clearly through the thin walls of the tent.
"Pick this up later?" Bellamy asked.
"Of course."
The two made their way through the thick crowd of people, elbowing their way to the front. The pair flanked Abby and Marcus. Clarke tried to ignore the proximity of the man she had sworn as her enemy. Looking forward, Clarke was met with sneering Grounders.
"Her!" one of them yelled. "Give us Wanheda and you may live."
"No," Abby gasped, unconsciously throwing an arm in front of her daughter.
"There must be another way," Marcus argued.
Clarke held back a growl, hating that the man who was hooking up with her mother was defending her.
"This is not a negotiation. Give us the girl," the Grounder yelled.
Both Abby and Kane were silent, unable to think up a proper response.
"You have until sundown," they threatened before turning and rushing silently into the cover of the trees.
"Get her into the Ark. Now!" Marcus barked orders to the frantic crowd.
Clarke felt a calloused hand grab her bicep, hauling her toward the Ark.
"I can do it myself," Clarke ripped her arm from their grasp, turning awkwardly on her crutches to find herself face to face with Marcus Kane.
"Then go," he ordered.
With a frustrated huff, Clarke limped off into the Ark, Abby following behind her.
The rest of the day crawled by, Clarke was going stir crazy by dinner. She had been stuck in a medical all day under the watchful eye of the mother. Abby had finally freed her daughter by dinner; Clarke almost cheered when Abby released her.
She sat with Bellamy and Raven, enjoying the easy conversation she could have with them.
"I just have to stop at my tent for a second," Clarke told Raven.
"Yeah, I'll meet you in mine," Raven smiled, moving on and leaving Clarke alone for the first time all day.
Clarke revelled in it. She entered her tent, looking around for a moment before taking a seat on her cot. She drew a deep breath, closing her eyes.
But before she could exhale, a filthy hand slapped quietly over her mouth. Clarke's baby blues flew open, terror and surprise written across her face. A yell was muffled by the hand as Clarke spasmed, trying frantically to break the grasp.
"Wanheda," a voice growled softly in her ear. "Nice to meet you."
Clarke felt a prick in her neck and suddenly her body fell slack, slumping into a set of filthy, muscular arms. The black surrounded her for the second time that week, pulling her under.
Blue eyes blinked open to the rocky roof of a cave. Clarke could hear a fire crackling close by, casting shadows on the walls. Her neck ached and she could feel rough rope binding her hands behind her back. Besides the fire, Clarke couldn't hear anything, and the eerie silent put the girl on edge. Silence was unpredictable to her. Dangerous.
Clarke struggled, pulling against the ropes in a desperate attemlt to free herself.
"It is useless to struggle, Wanheda," a voice boomed through the cave.
"Let me go," Clarke demanded, her blue orbs flicking around as she searched desperately for the owner of the voice.
"I will let you go when I can hand you over the the Ice Queen, Wanheda," the voice replied.
"What does that mean? Why do you call me that?"
"You removed the threat of the Mountain Men, killing them all with the flick of your wrist. You are the Commander of Death, Wanheda."
"I did what was necessary for my people," Clarke snapped.
Finally, a man stepped into Clarke's line of sight. She took a moment to size him up. He was large, muscular and strong. His long hair kept from his face with tight braids and he wore many layers of fur and leather. As for weapons, all Clarke could find was a sword, slung haphazardly around his waist with a thick leather strap.
"For your people, huh? The same people who have not even made an attempt to rescue their savior," the Grounder taunted her, pacing slowly around the cave, keeping his sharp eyes on her, watching for her reaction.
Clarke was stunned, her mind raced a thousand miles a minute as she fought to find a reason for the absence of a rescuer. Of course, the rational side of her realised that it would take more than a few hours for them to find her. For Bellamy to find her.
"They're gonna come," Clarke argued weakly.
The Grounder scoffed before sauntering out of the cave.
Clarke stayed on the damp ground, watching as the faint light coming from the opening faded, leaving only the fire to light the room. Her mind raced, inventing insade possibilities for Bellamy leaving her to die at the hands of the Grounder.
Of course there was a voice in her mind, telling her that they would be here. They would come for her.
Hours passed and the Grounder didn't make another appearance, which put Clarke on edge. It was late before she heard faint footfalls sounding over the fire, getting closer. She perked up, watching eagerly to see who would come around the corner. Her face fell when her eyes locked onto the determined eyes of Marcus Kane. Guards from Arkadia flanked him, eyes searching and guns ready.
"Clarke!"
He rushed forward, falling to his knees and pulling out a knife from his belt ad begins to hack away at her bindings.
"Where's Bellamy?" she demanded.
"Back at camp," he muttered, finally slicing through the rope, hauling the girl to her feet.
"Let's go," he said, pulling Clarke along as he marched toward the door.
"Wait!"
Her heels dug into the ground as she pulled against the man.
"What?" he huffed, dropping her arm.
"Why didn't Bellamy come?"
Before he could answer, Clarke felt arms snake around her and the cool blade of a knife being pressed to her throat for the second time that week.
"She goes nowhere with you," the deep voice of the Grounder growled into her ear.
Clarke barely had time to react before the loud shot of a gun rang through the small space and the knife slipped from her neck. She let out a loud breath and stumbled forward, falling into the arms of a man she had deemed her enemy.
"You okay?" he asked, hauling her to her feet.
"I'm fine," she snapped.
The trek back to Arkadia was uncomfortable for Clarke. And not only because of her ankle. Her mind was at odds. Part of her wanted to trust Marcus, accept him even. The other part of her wanted to punch him for kissing her mother. She decided to debate if more later.
By the time they could see the gates of their camp, the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon, a pink glow bathing the ground. They trudged tiredly over the dirt and through the gate; instantly they were bombarded with questions about what happened.
It was all a buzz in Clarke's ears as her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a head of familiar dark curls. She found him quickly, and she found herself elbowing her way through the crowd before her tired body was pressed against his strong, warm chest.
"Thank god. I was so worried," he whispered into her filthy blonde waves.
"I think I wanna stay," Clarke muttered into his shoulder.
"I know," he smiled into her hair.
With almost no effort, Bellamy pulled Clarke off the ground, relieving the pulsing ache from her ankle, and discreetly snuck off to her tent, intent on putting her on her cot and not letting anyone disturb the blonde while she slept.