A/N: So... not only am I a day late in publishing this, but this is also the shortest chapter I have submitted, instead of a long one. It's short, but I felt vital to this part of the story. To make up for it, I am posting chapter three and four at the same time. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Nope... I don't own The 100. Still.
I am startled awake. There are sounds I haven't heard in two weeks. The sound of people. Roaming these halls. My heart races at the limitless possibilities. I am sweating without realizing, my forehead is soaked.
I have been working in clear, concise shifts ranging from six to eight hours. I have steadily been working since arrival, and I have buried nearly one third of the dead. I rest when tired, I eat when hungry. I have even taken advantage of the showers here, and I am clean finally. For the first time since arriving on Earth, my hair and skin are not coated in dirt and grime. I found my fingernails, no longer covered in blood, sweat, and mud.
The noise. The stomping through the halls. It has gotten closer. I decide to confront my demons (because surely there aren't actually people in this desolate kingdom of the dead?) head on and leave my room.
I come out to the hall, and see them. My knees shake. I can't face these people. These people hate me for what I have done. Jasper. Monty. I know these people. Harper. At one point, I was respected by them. They are coming closer, and I don't know if they are real or not. I have been alone for nearly a fortnight, my only company the dead. Miller. Wick is here too. Lincoln is in the crowd, ever closer, and I don't want to face them. But my boots seem locked in place. I am doomed to face them.
Jasper sees me first, his eyes darting all around, when they focus on me. He doesn't say anything, but he nods to me with a sad smile, his eyes forgiving. Monty of course is next. He squints, not sure if he is actually seeing me.
" Clarke...?" He asks eyes wide with realization. His hand reaches for me, and his stride are longer. When he is nearly in front of me, I reach out to him.
Our hands meet, both of his grasping mine, as if it is a lifeline to reality. He smiles.
"I knew I would see you again. You wouldn't go to die on us." His smile is genuine and he beckons Jasper over, who pulls me into a hug.
" I forgive you." Is all he whispers to me, and he lets me go.
Suddenly, I am acutely aware of someone being missing. I don't see him in the crowd. He might not have come. I am searching frantically through the crowd, when a strong hand is on my shoulder. I look up to find Lincoln, his steady gaze calming. He forgave me, he doesn't say it, but his action says it all. He nods to the rear of the crowd, somehow knowing whom I seek.
Then I see it. A head of inky curls, and olive skin. His strong jaw line, tight in fierce concentration. His chocolate eyes, darting to the direction of all the commotion in his lines.
His eyes find me.