RAVEN:

It was always different in the dreams. Of course, most things are. But whenever she'd give herself the freedom to let her mind run wild (in the dark of her one bed apartment, when the emptiness on her bunk mattress started to feel too thick, and she could close her eyes and let her thoughts wander to warm hands and soft hair and pale skin and—well. ) she'd always thought she would be different. Slow, excruciatingly gentle. Maybe even sweet.

Raven, when she reaches forward— desperate, thoughtless, wild— is anything but sweet. She thinks she should be sorry about that, but she can't remember why.

Clarke's lips are chapped, slightly, and her teeth clack against Raven's as she opens her mouth under hers in shock. Raven's hands slide forward from cupping the other girl's face to thread into her tangled blonde hair, and she slants her mouth across Clarke's heatedly, her mind a rush of meaningless thought and motion, until her brain stutters to a stop when she realizes what she's doing. Clarke's mouth is slack under hers, and under her hands Raven can feel the stiff line of the other girl's neck and shoulders and Raven feels her heart drop into her stomach likes its suddenly filled with lead. She pulls back, slightly, just enough to see those wide blue eyes and swollen red lips, and she tries to apologize but forgets what she was going to say as she pulls her fingers out of the mess of hair at the back of the other girl's head but then Clarke frowns a little, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow in determination, and presses forward again and—

Well.

Considering she had literally fallen from the sky and almost died in a fiery blaze, Raven thinks she might be allowed a little clemency at the low, embarrassingly breathless groan that rumbles out the back of her throat when Clarke's tongue slides across the seam of her lips and her chest presses roughly against Raven's as the girl crowds her back against the spaceship's piece of shit exterior frame. The metal is still warm through the fabric of her jacket, but Clarke is warmer, Clarke is—Clarke's not very sweet, either, she thinks dazedly, as teeth nip sharply at her bottom lip, holy shit. (Raven has never been happier to be proven wrong.)

"Um. Guys?"

Somewhere very far away, a place that Raven can't see or hear or feel because Clarke hands are currently sliding up the inner layer of her jacket, a throat clears awkwardly.

"Isn't this maybe—um, Clarke?" The gruff voice continues weakly as the hand creeping up her waist skims over her ribcage, while Raven feels her fingers clench into the girl's threadbare black jacket to pull her closer, the feeling of her hips lining up perfectly, "Maybe not the time for—oh my god."

Clarke pulls away, tragically, to turn to the other boy behind her. Raven can't hear what she says, too busy gasping for air and trying not to look like she ran headfirst into a wall.

Wow. Okay. The doc's got moves.

The guy, who looks vaguely familiar, and Clarke are whisper-yelling at each other about something, and Raven can't help but feel a fizzle of disappointment when she realizes her seven minutes in heaven (minutes? seconds? moments? days? who knows.) are officially over. She shakes her head to clear it.

"—maybe stop making out in the middle of grounder territory? Maybe that's a smart move? Christ. Let's just get back to camp." The boy is refusing to look at her, whether out of anger or embarrassment or disgust or—something else. He ducks his head and turns away, stiff and uncomfortable. She thinks she should be ashamed, or something, she thinks the Ark, her mother, maybe Abby even, would want her to be ashamed, but she can't think about anything but the roughness of Clarke's hands and the weight of her pressing onto her chest or the taste of her mouth on her tongue. The boy clenches his fist as Clarke pushes away from the ship with a sigh. He looks angry, and so familiar…

Its probably nothing. Clarke reaches for his arm in placation. Raven, instinctively, slips her hand into her jacket pocket and steps forward neatly in front of the other girl, her pocket knife pressed flat against her wrist tucked under her sleeve.

"Hey." The kiss is almost entirely forgotten, sadly, when Raven calls out to him warily. "What'd you say your name was?"

He looks at her and something in his eyes flickers. "I didn't. It's…Gus."

Clarke raises a brow and nudges Raven with her elbow. "Raven. He's a friend. Leave it at that. I'll explain when we're back at camp."

"Yeah. Okay. Sure. Camp? Hey, oh shit, is Finn all right? I almost forgot to ask with the whole—" she taps the other girl's mouth with her thumb, dragging it across the lower lip. Clarke flushes bright red, clearing her throat and nodding and Raven forgets everything she was about to say because oh my god she wants to kiss this girl. She can feel herself leaning in when she remembers where they are.

Gus clears his throat awkwardly, again, and motions towards the trees. "Spacewalker's fine, c'mon. We should try and get back before midday."

Raven watches delightedly as Clarke swallows and nods, obviously distracted.

"Yeah, hold on a second, though. I just need to find a signal stream to connect to the Ark radio, it'll take like—"

Gus stiffens. So does Clarke. Suddenly the boy's face clicks in her mind and she's shoving Clarke behind her just as the boy's hand reaches for the axe at his hip, the look in his eye wild and a little bit desperate, cornered like an animal, when Clarke forces herself out from between Raven and the ship and inserts herself, hands up, directly in the path between them. His hand stills over the hatchet.

"Clarke." Raven doesn't like the way his voice stumbles over her name. "I won't—I'm not gonna hurt her. I just need the radio." Raven's sleeve loosens and she lets the hilt of the knife slide easily into the palm of her hand. The radio is inches from her back, sitting in her flight suit in the second seat, and she thinks if she can just get Clarke out the way they could grab it and run.

Raven grasps the back of the other girl's jacket and tugs. She doesn't budge. "Bellamy. Back off. Don't be stupid. I told you no matter what you did—"

Oh, for fuck's sake—"Clarke, he shot the Chancellor," she hisses.

"I didn't have a choice! My sister—"

"Shut up. Both of you, shut up." Clarke looks ragged. She looks at Raven over her shoulder and suddenly Raven remembers Wells, the boy head over heels in love, Wells Jaha, who tried to burn down the sacred tree and was thrown in prison just days before the Skybox was emptied and sent down to Earth. The boy who followed Clarke first. Why wasn't he here with her? Why was she with Bellamy Blake, of all people.

"Is he alive?" Clarke asks. Her lips are thin.

"Yes. And from what I heard, he's gunning for your boy, here."

"Wait—" Bellamy's face goes through a complicated mesh of expression (shock, relief, terror) before it settles. "Wait, did you say Jaha's still alive?"

Raven shrugs and tucks her knife into her pocket again, something in his tone making her feel less threatened and more curious. "Yeah, looks like you're a pretty lousy shot, huh?"

Once everyone relaxes, Clarke makes the decision for them, unsurprisingly. Bellamy will give up the name of the officer who gave him the gun, and Clarke will make a deal for his official pardon on behalf of the 100, after they send the radio signal to the station. Raven thinks it's interesting, how they phrase it that way. The 100, said with gravity in the word, a distinctive separateness from everything else. The 100, even though they're not at the full number anymore (too many children dead and buried and its only been a few weeks). From what she can glean, Earth is not a heaven like the Ark has been led to believe, but the 100 have made it a home. That's… daunting.

But what is even more daunting, in Raven's opinion, is the endless trek on foot through miles of rough terrain, barely an hour after she crash landed on earth in a fucking toaster on fire. Her back is killing her.

Still, Raven can't help but bask in it. (the sunshine that warms the skin on her face, the mist in the air, the mud under her feet, flowers, birdsong, a soft breeze, the heady feeling of unfiltered air in her lungs, Clarke's smile when she brushes her fingers over the top of Raven's hand—)

"I can't find a strong enough signal to connect with them via audio, but I think I can send a few blips in morse code just to let them now its reached the ground." She mutters as they hike through the brush. The radio was shitty to begin with, she just needs some time and a little elbow grease to strengthen the connection—

"Jasper and Monty have a small set-up in the dropship. You can probably find some spare parts." Bellamy offers this information quietly from in front of them, like a peace offering. From his mug shot they'd sent around the Ark, he'd looked a little crazed, a little dangerous, but she can see now that he's just a guy with too much on his plate. His dark, sharp features and the blank lines on his face make it hard to recognize that he's still a kid, no matter how old he really is.

"Good." She nods, trying to focus on more important things, like the girl at her side who won't stop smiling and giving Raven heart palpitations. "How long till we get to this set up?"

Clarke answers this time, still grinning at her. Dios mío, Raven thinks, she's just so damn pretty. "Maybe an hour? We're almost there."

"Maybe we'd get there faster if you two would actually watch where you're walking," Bellamy mutters, rolling his eyes and smirking when Clarke flushes in response. Raven just laughs, light-headed with joy (and possibly the oxygen levels and her minor head wound but who's counting), politely holding a wet branch out the way as the other girl walks under it.

"You jealous, Blake?"

He snorts. "Please. I get more than enough of her attitude without getting anything physical." Clarke huffs and throws a pebble at him. He sidesteps it easily and grins before turning and walking backwards, so he's facing them, before lowing his voice like he's offering a secret. "And with my luck, she'd just punch me out. Princess here has a killer right hook."

"No shit. Really?" Raven is woman enough to admit that she finds that super hot. "So who'd you have to smack down?"

Bellamy looks gleeful. "Oh man, it was great—"

"—Wow, guys! Hey!" Clarke cuts him off loudly. "Look at that! It's the camp!"

So it is. She wouldn't have noticed it from this distance, a solid 200 yards away, if not for the glint of metal in the sunlight. The wall-like structure more fence than anything, is a simple collection of tethered logs and wickedly sharp scrap-metal sheets, obviously scavenged from the main exterior shell of the drop ship. It looks like a warning, and from what they've told her about the people still on the ground, she's grateful for it.

Raven fiddles with the radio antennae again, hesitant to open the main compartment until she has a solid worktable underneath it, and maybe tools. She should be able to have a channel open in no time, and hopefully Abby received the signal earlier.

She still thoughtfully fixing with the radio when Clarke reaches over to tuck a small red flower in the elastic that holds up her high ponytail.

Raven does not blush.

Bellamy glances over and rolls his eyes so hard they might fall out of his head. "Jesus Christ. I'm gonna be sick."