It took them hours, but they finally made it back.
Clarke felt like she was about to collapse with exhaustion by time their landmarks started showing up. She was trudging through the forest in front with Miller, and if they both leaned against each other for a few seconds every once in a while, well, she wasn't going to complain.
The rest of the 48 were close behind them, filling the crisp air with yawns, moans, and sighs. No one complained aloud though, just kept pushing on through the pain and weariness – and for that Clarke was proud, and it kept her putting on foot in front of the other.
She paused for a moment when they passed the art supply bunker, to lean against a tree and do a quick headcount. They couldn't afford to lose anyone, not now.
The kids mostly just shuffled past her, looking like they were practically dead on their feet already, but some of them held thin fists out for a fist bump that she reciprocated with a smile – and one or two of the 48 patted her weakly on the shoulder as they went by.
Jasper and Monty were at the back of the group, and while Monty looked ragged and run down—his best friend looked like he was barely managing to stand on his own two feet. Jasper was leaning heavily against Monty, and Clarke moved forward quickly to relieve the other boy of his burden for a few moments, carefully shifting Jasper's weight over to her.
Clarke struggled for a moment, and then got into the rhythm of walking with Jasper's weight added, his long arm draped over her shoulder. The guard's baton from Mount Weather was still clutched tightly in his other hand. He let out a groan, and turned his head slightly to rest it on her shoulder, despite their height difference.
"I miss her already, Clarke," Jasper slurred into her hair, and she just huffed out a breath, not knowing what to say, "I mean, I know she was probably bad and in on the whole Grounder thing the whole time, but—but it was really cool before we found out, and I just miss her now. I don't even want to, but I can't stop."
Monty fell into step beside them again then, and he shared a glance with Clarke, "I know, Jasper, I know. We've talked about this already, remember? We can talk about it back at camp—we just have to get there in one piece first."
The other boy sighed loudly, and seemed to sink to the ground even as he continued walking; forcing Clarke to lock her knees in order to keep supporting him.
One of the older guys behind them noticed her struggle, and jogged forward tiredly to help them support Jasper. He grinned wearily at Clarke, and she gratefully let him take over 'Jasper-duty' with a nod, before she forced herself back to the front of the line.
"Status?" She asked Miller breathlessly when she reached him again, and he grunted once before replying.
"Couple of k's out. One of the trackers out ahead found a rabbit caught in an old trap. Should be fine to eat. Have kids picking up dried branches if they're able—not many have the strength though." Clarke nodded in response, feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over her.
She overcame the slight dizziness by pausing and bending down for a moment to pick up some twigs to the side of their trail, stiff small branches that looked like they would burn well. It seemed as though years had gone by since their last campfire.
Clarke almost smiled at the memory of camp dinners, but instead glanced up at the treetops and frowned when she caught a glimpse of the sky, "It'll be dark soon. We've been walking for hours."
"We'll make it," and didn't Miller just sound so cool and collected, not a hint of worry in his voice, "We always make it."
"I suppose we've gotten this far." She conceded, smirking marginally in spite of their situation, and bumping her hip against Miller. He simply looked down at her with a cocky expression that she knew he'd well earned through all his hardships.
"We're the 100."
.
Their camp was blackened and burned when they finally did return.
Dawn was just about to break through the dark sky, and many of the kids had huddled together for warmth during their trek. Clarke shivered against Miller and another girl, wishing she had her old clothes back—and not the flimsy Mount Weather attire.
They all crept silently through the twisted mess of burnt bodies, holding hands tightly, and Clarke tried to block out the sounds of some of the younger kids crying. There was nothing that they could do in that moment, except continue on to their Dropship, their last hope.
She made a note to put the older ones on clean-up duty first thing.
The interior of the Dropship was just as cold and harsh as Clarke had feared it might be. Blood was smeared on the floor, long dried, from where Raven had been slumped—and Clarke forcefully averted her eyes and struggled to maintain her composure.
"Everyone to the top floor for tonight," She managed to say after a few fleeting moments of grief, "We can sort things out down here in the morning, but for now—We've all earned a rest."
Her words were met with by a few half-hearted cheers, but the majority of kids did smile at her as they hauled their slight forms up the ladder. Clarke watched them go up, one by one, and did another headcount. Forty eight, including her, only forty eight.
A hand landing lightly on her shoulder forced her to look up, and Miller just sighed heavily.
He jerked his head gently over at the doors, and Clarke swallowed hard—seeing some ash blow in the breeze outside. "Close it," She said after another long minute, and he obliged with a sad quirk of his lips. The door came up with a clang, and then they were safely shut inside.
"Time for bed," Miller said dryly, as he climbed up the ladder, and Clarke nodded quietly to his back.
The other kids had arranged themselves in the equivalent of a puppy pile by the time they got up, and they could only grin in real amusement as they took in the scene. Clarke caught Monty's gaze, from where he was curled up beside Jasper, and she took Miller's hand to begin navigating through the mess of kids.
The sounds of heavy breathing and soft snoring had already filled the upper level by the time they made it across the floor, and Clarke didn't think that she'd ever been so happy to collapse down onto a cold metal floor. She squeezed Monty's hand that he offered to help her sit down, and then laid her head flat against what could have been Harper's back, Miller and Monty flanking her on either side.
And as she fell asleep quickly, Clarke knew that this would turn out to be one of her best memories.
.
The next morning was subdued, but triumphant.
They had another meeting when everyone was awake, and quickly but carefully went through each order of business that needed to be attended to. Their supplies were painfully limited, that much was obvious, but Clarke forced herself to remain optimistic.
Branches from the previous night were piled in the corner, along with the two knives that had been found in the upper level, and some blankets.
A group of the older members of the 48, Clarke and Miller included, ventured outside to try and clear the debris from the battle. It was a tough job, sweeping away the destruction they had caused with large branches and leaves—but it had to be done.
They cleared what they could into one of the corners behind the Dropship, out of immediate sight, and Clarke stopped for a moment to survey the progress. She wiped a shaking hand across her forehead as her eyes took in the cleared ground and the collapsed makeshift sheds that they'd managed to build.
"It looks good," Monty commented, a sheen of sweat visible on his face.
Clarke shook her head slightly, "It's not good yet, but it looks better at least," She amended, crossing her arms out of habit, "We can make it good again."
"If anyone can, it's you, Clarke," A different voice commented, and she spun around having heard the smile in the tone. Jasper was waking carefully out of the Dropship, nodding his head at the clear ground and the distinct lack of bodies overall.
She grinned back at him, glad to see him recovered from his previous state the night before, and he pulled her into a hug before she could resist.
A few of the kids helping to rebuild their fire-pit laughed loudly as Jasper spun her around like a dancer, despite Clarke's cry of surprise, and she punched him in the shoulder roughly when he finally released her. Jasper immediately gave a deep bow to their chuckling audience, and even Clarke had to smile then.
"You're an idiot," she told him firmly, and then frowned at the filthy state of the bandage on his forehead, "and we need to get that cleaned up, and take the stitches out probably."
Miller chose that moment to return with some water from the river and kindling, and Clarke just rolled her eyes at him when he raised his eyebrows in amusement, "Nice dancing," He mutter as she moved towards him to take the water, and she just groaned.
Clarke waited until they had a camp fire going again before she fetched the sharpest knife that she had left, and some cloth rags that they'd washed in the river water earlier. She had a small audience of kids gathered around by the time she waved Jasper over, and her words were quiet but firm as she talked Miller through her actions.
The light was bright and ideal as Jasper tilted his head back obligingly, and only bit his lip as Clarke cleaned the dirt away from his stitches. She then started to carefully work on the pieces of surgical thread with the knife edge, before using her other 'sterilised' hand to pick out the bloody stitches.
To his credit, Jasper only let out a few stifled gasps throughout the whole procedure, and he even managed to wink at her when she was finished. Clarke wrapped the still-healing wound up as best as she could, and then turned to Miller with a half-hearted smile, holding out the knife to be washed again.
"Your turn."
She winced and gritted her teeth as the knife slipped and cut into her skin a few times, and shook her head as apologies and curses slipped out of Miller's mouth. A few droplets of blood welled up and fell to the ground below Clarke's outstretched arm, and she thought back to being alone in the Mount Weather dormitory – slicing her wound open again with the sharpened edge of a bunk bed. A shudder wracked her frame, and one of the kids beside her stretched out her arm to squeeze her shoulder gently.
Then more of them were reached out to do the same, and suddenly Clarke found herself surrounded by her family—all of them with their hands covering her shoulders and uninjured arm.
A smile broke over her face, and it was just what she needed to banish the memory and focus back on the present. Miller locked eyes with her just as he removed the last stitch, and she watched as some tension drained out of his shoulders as he put down the knife.
They went back to the clean-up after Clarke's forearm was bandaged, and the day passed on with substantial progress and improvement through hard labour.
Though the camp was quiet and silently suffering after their ordeal—there was another emotion present in the air. It was subdued, dampened by the long hours spent re-establishing a viable perimeter and draining their already low energy stores, but it was palpable.
Triumph.
They'd fought their way out of captivity, hiked through an unforgiving terrain for hours to get back home, and now they'd made it. They had won, survived against all odds as they had done time after time again—and Clarke was going to make damn sure that they lived to fight another day.
.
I know this took ages to come - but my exams are finished, and the madness of Christmas is over so I'll be updating this much more regularly again.
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter.