Not yet.
The words echo in her mind quietly, they dance against her lips and burn gently in her chest. And it's odd. It's strange, and maybe, if she's truthful with herself, if she's honest, they're a hope.
Or she's merely a fool.
She's not quite sure why she reached out, why she felt that desire, why she felt the need to do what she had done.
But it's too late now.
And so she steps back carefully, her eyes lingering on Clarke's lips as she steadies her breathing and tries to settle the racing beat of her heart. Her eyes find Clarke's once more, and they glow softly in the candle light, they're tentative in the way the woman who fell from the sky gazes upon her. They're the blue of a quiet morning and the sharpness of an arrow finding its way through the wind. They're the challenge of a quiet morning, the too cold bite of an empty bed and the warmth of a lonely body.
But above all?
They're Clarke.
"I—"
What's she to say?
"I'm—"
The words choke in her throat as her tongue wets her lips for a moment.
And she's nervous.
And it surprises her, it shocks her.
It thrills her.
"Sorry," and it comes out a whisper. A quiet exhale and a lonely hand.
And Clarke looks at her too, her eyes thoughtful as their gazes hold. And maybe it's a small smile that spreads across the Azgeda woman's lips, maybe it's a gentle, rosy blush that colours her cheeks.
"It's ok," Clarke whispers as she worries her lip for a moment. "You just surprised me."
And what's Lexa supposed to say to that?
"Sorry," perhaps an apology is best. Perhaps pretending it never happened is the most logical path forward, perhaps sweeping it under the furs is the most strategic manoeuvre left for her to take.
And is she not the Commander?
"It's ok," and it comes repeated, just a small thing as Clarke's hand reaches out slowly, as her fingers brush against her wrist for just a small time.
And maybe it is ok.
If only because Clarke doesn't strike out at her, doesn't reject her, doesn't race from the tent.
"So…" and Clarke trails off, her eyes searching in their movements. "What do we do now?"
And as the words leave Clarke's lips her head bobs slightly, her face moving into Lexa's sight, a small smile spreading once more across her lips as Lexa's eyes snap back up to Clarke's.
"Anya won't attack any Azgeda again," and maybe she'd grimace at the words she finds leaving her mouth.
And she thinks Clarke does so too, her face turning away for a breath as her cheek twitches slightly.
"You already said that," she finishes as she turns back to face Lexa.
Clarke's arms come to cross against her chest then, the furs rustling quietly atop her shoulders as she leans a hip against the edge of the table. And as she stretches just a bit, as she rolls her shoulders for a moment Lexa follows the motion, her eyes tracing the line of Clarke's neck as it dips and as it—
She turns quickly, her eyes focusing somewhere on the maps that still lie rolled on the table, her mind a quiet thing that smoulders and burns softly.
"It would be best if we did not discuss this in public for now," Lexa begins carefully, her finger coming to brush against the dried wax of a candle for a moment.
"Yeah," Clarke says as she continues to peer at Lexa's profile in thought. "I guess. Can't have the Commander being seen to favour another clan," she finishes with a small laugh.
"That is not what I inten—" and Lexa turns to her quickly, her eyes widening.
"Relax," Clarke says, her hand coming to grip Lexa's wrist. "It was a joke," and she smiles for a moment as their eyes meet again.
And so she breaths out, her eyes closing for a long while as she steadies her mind.
"Hey," the word reaches her ears carefully, and so she opens her eyes again to find Clarke eyeing her. "You don't really have to tell me, you can even tell me it's none of my business…" and she trails off for a moment as she considers her words.
But Lexa thinks she knows what Clarke will ask. And hasn't she revealed too much already?
"Your assassin," Lexa begins.
"Echo," Clarke gives quietly.
"Echo," and Lexa swallows thickly, her mind turning back the seasons. "She was involved in Costia's death," and she thinks it still hurts. "She is skilled at deception," Lexa shrugs, her memories coming to surface slowly. "She had been with Anya for two seasons," and her eyes harden slowly as Clarke shares her gaze. "She went by a different name. She was kind, friendly. She befriended Costia," and Lexa thinks Clarke understands the rest, she thinks Clarke realises the actions Echo had taken.
"I'm sorry," Clarke whispers and Lexa thinks she means it. "I can have her sent away," Clarke finishes awkwardly.
"No," and the firmness of her response surprises her. "All wrongs have been absolved," and maybe she believes it. "It is in the past," and Lexa shrugs with a shoulder once. "Love is weakness, and we must be strong to survive," she finishes.
"I don't think you believe that, Lexa," Clarke challenges as she leans forward a small space.
"Perhaps," and maybe as Lexa meets Clarke's eyes she feels a small smile find its way across her lips, and she thinks it just a small thing, a sad thing that lingers for a while. "But we all do what we must to survive," and the echo of words from just moments ago cause Clarke's eyes to roll.
"Life is about more than just surviving," and she thinks she sees a smile live within Clarke's gaze as the blonde repeats her words, and she knows what she will next say. "Don't we deserve better than that?"
And do they?
"Y—"
"Heda!" Gustus shouts from outside before his head pushes through the tent's entrance. "The acid fog is destroyed."
And it's only an instant that Clarke's eyes lock with hers, as the words sink in and as her heart races.
And then both women rush out the tent, Gustus moving out of the way quickly as they spring into the open air. And as Lexa squints in the sunlight she finds a lone shining flame burning in the sky, the trail rising from Arkadia the signal they had agreed to use. And as she stares for only a moment she finds the other Trikru around her looking up at the burning flame, their eyes wide in wonder, their grips around weapons whitened in anticipation.
And it's only a quick shared glance with Clarke before she runs to the hill's edge, the red of her sash flowing out behind her as she comes to a stop overlooking the war camp, and she finds the warriors below staring up at the flame and some staring up at her.
And it's a silence, just a quiet moment before she feels her heart beat furiously, before she feels a smile spread across her lips and as she feels the rush of blood that crashes through her veins.
And she feels it.
Her lungs expand as she takes in the cool bite of the air, and her face warms as the sun graces it and her arm reaches up, her sword grasped firmly in her fist, the blade glinting in the sunlight.
And so she lets her voice be carried by the wind.
To war!
And the words leave her, they echo and roll across the war camp.
And she lets the smile hold across her lips as the cheers from the warriors below fill the air, as they roar through the trees and shake the ground.
And she knows.
The fight for the Mountain has begun.
It's a rush and a scramble and a frantic stampede of controlled chaos that spreads through the war camp. And Clarke grits her teeth as her feet carry her down the winding path from Lexa's tent, only a small glance cast over her shoulder and a small moment's pause as she meets Lexa's eyes before a bend takes her.
Torvun races next to her, his eyes ever careful as he watches those around them, and as they pass Trikru she finds their own attention focused on packing, focused on gathering weapons, medicines and foods and supplies.
It only takes them a short moment before they find Azgeda already gathering in their war parties, already passing weapons around and already lathering war paint across cheeks, scars and through tight braids.
She finds Ontari, slung arm being untied, an end of the bandage in her teeth as she smears war paint across her face with her free hand. Their eyes meet for a moment as Clarke approaches before Ontari passes over the jar, a smile being passed between them.
And as Clarke finishes with the war paint, and as she bends down, already reaching for her bow and quiver of arrows she feels the steadily increasing beat of her heart and she thinks her fingers tremble for just a moment.
"Steady, Clarke," Ontari says as her fingers close over her hand, a smile spreading across the other woman's lips. "We will win this battle."
"You shouldn't remove that bandage," Clarke says with a smile though, her hand turning to hold Ontari's hand as their eyes meet.
But Ontari shrugs once, only to wince just slightly at the motion.
"It would only get in the way," she says.
And so Clarke's eyes roll, but their heads turn at the sound of feet approaching, and she finds Echo standing close by, a knife strapped to each of her thighs, a bow and quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder.
"Prince Roan has sent me to accompany you," she begins cooly, "I am to keep you alive," she finishes.
"I have Torvun for that," Clarke answers as she jerks her chin to Torvun as Entani smears paint across his head quickly.
"Prince Roan wishes to ensure you survive," Echo says, an eyebrow raising as she lets the message linger. "I am sure you understand," and so Clarke nods, her eyes turning to Ontari briefly.
"Ok," Clarke says with a shrug.
It's a quiet creep through the forest, just a small force of Azgeda, Trikru and Skaikru winding their way between the trees. Octavia and Lincoln walk besides them, their eyes careful as they peer out through the thick foliage. Ontari wanders near, her bow already half drawn, Entani and Torvun close behind Clarke.
As they move further and further through the trees she thinks she hears the low storming of the dam though, she thinks she can feel the steady tumble as the water cascades and churns. And so she holds up a hand as she comes to a stop. Raven slinks her way forward too, the bag over her shoulder a heavy weight that brings a scowl across her face.
"What are we waiting for?" she whispers, her eyes moving from Clarke to Octavia.
"Scout," Octavia replies with a smile towards Raven. "Chill Raven, we don't want to rush into this."
"Whatever, O," Raven whispers back, her eyes rolling for a moment as she shrugs the bag higher up on her shoulder. "You know, if I knew there was this much walking I wouldn't have volunteered for this."
Octavia snorts at Raven's words though as she turns back with a smile. "Be glad reapers aren't attacking us right now," and she waggles her eyebrows for a moment. "Because you'd be running."
"Pfft," Raven answers, "I don't run from any—"
A low hoot cuts Raven off as it echoes through the trees then, and Clarke turns her head slightly, her ears lingering on the sound as Ontari pauses, her bowstring pulling back fully as her eyes gaze into the trees.
The silence hangs around them for another moment until one last bird call sounds out before Echo slinks out of the trees in front of them.
"There are two guards outside," she says lowly as she comes to meet the small group.
"Ok," Clarke answers, quickly looking over her shoulder at the others behind her. "Skaikru," and she looks to Bellamy and Finn, and two others who linger in the centre of the group, "stay off your guns for now. We'll take out the guards, we want this to be as quiet as possible," and as she finishes she meets their nods with her own.
It's loud. Clarke can hear the water crashing and breaking as it runs through the dam. And so she comes to a careful stop at the edge of the forest, the trees giving way to a dirt clearing that leads to the dam's entrance, metal doors recessed into it that she is sure lead down into the structure that powers the Mountain. Her eyes find the first guard quickly, his clothing dark black and familiar.
"From the sky?" Ontari asks as she eyes Bellamy who crouches close by, his own guard uniform matching the man who paces back and forth.
"Yeah," Bellamy grunts, his eyes narrowing as he continues to follow the man's lazy path. "I recognise him," and he looks sideways to Octavia for a moment. "He was a dick," he finishes with a shrug.
"Where's the second one, Echo?" and Clarke turns to the assassin.
"I will find him. Wait until I signal," she says before ducking out from the foliage.
"You know," Raven begins quietly, her eyes following Echo as she disappears behind a small dirt outcrop. "Your friend Echo really creeps me out, Clarke," and Raven waves over her face, "the whole white warpaint, the way too many knives, and all the rest I don't know about," she finishes.
"They're all wearing white warpaint, Raven," another Skaikru hisses from where she sits. "Besides the Trikru, of course," she adds with a smile to Octavia.
"Look, Harper," and Raven turns to face the dirty blonde haired woman, "I'm not saying it isn't bad ass. But is white really the best camouflage when we're surrounded by trees?"
"Shut it, guys," and Bellamy gives them a stern look, his thumb brushing against the handle of his rifle nervously. "We can continue this discussion later."
Clarke meets Entani's eyes then, the other healer miming a gag as Ontari grumbles quietly under her breath at the quiet back and forth of the Skaikru.
But it only takes Echo another few minutes until they hear a birdcall, this time more faint, the sounds of the water drowning most of it out. But as it comes a second time Ontari draws her bow as she rises to a low crouch.
"I want three arrows on him," Clarke whispers as she draws her own, Lincoln quickly taking aim besides her. "I don't want to risk anything."
And so she breathes out quietly, her eyes peering down the length of her arrow as she feels the gentle creaking of the bowstring against her fingers. And she waits. She waits until the air stills for a second, until it stills for one more. And until her heart beats.
And she releases.
Two other arrows sing forward with hers. And it's fast, it's rapid and violent. Her arrow strikes the guard in the chest with a satisfying thump, the second, white fletching quickly sprayed with a flash of blood as Ontari's arrow smashes into his throat, and Lincolns strikes the already toppling man in the stomach.
"Go," Clarke hisses as she bounds forward.
They find Echo already at the doors, a bloodied knife in her hands as she peers around a corner, her body tensing for a moment at the sound of their approaching feet.
"Get this door open, Raven," Clarke says as she joins the other warriors pressing themselves into the shadows.
"On it, Clarke," Raven smiles as she ducks down onto her knees, bag already opening as she begins to inspect the lock.
"The other guard wore clothing of the Mountain," Echo says quietly as she turns back to Clarke. "He did not burn," she says with a small frown.
And at that Clarke raises an eyebrow in question, a small confusion finding its way into her mind.
"What do you mean?" she questions.
"The Mountain Men must wear suits, Clarke," Octavia says, as she peers at Echo for a moment. "The air burns them."
And the words bring forth a memory, of Lexa killing the sniper from the Mountain, of her raged questioning of how he did not burn. But she thinks that for now the detail unimportant, and so she shrugs once.
"We can worry about that later."
The doors open quietly, the small group of Azgeda and Trikru spreading out as the Skaikru linger in the rear. They find the interior of the building dark, the sound of the generators groaning as they create the much needed energy that fuels the Mountain.
"There is no one else inside," Echo says carefully, her eyes peering out from the shadows.
"Yeah," and Clarke peers around for a moment before stepping out of the shadows. "They might have been called back once the army was spotted," and she turns to find Torvun nodding his head thoughtfully, his sword held easily in his hand.
"Ok, Raven," Bellamy says then, "let's get these generators taken care of."
To Clarke's relief Raven works quickly, the bombs, Clarke is sure, Raven had enjoyed creating quickly set, one for each generator. And so she casts her eyes around her at the warriors that stand nearby, some at doors as they peer through the windows in watch of Mountain reinforcements.
"You'd think they'd have cameras or something," Harper muses as she watches Raven setting the last bomb. "Or some kind of alarm," she finishes as she peers up at the dark corners of the building in thought.
"Wells could have taken care of them," Finn whispers from where he leans against a railing.
"They speak strange," and Clarke turns at the whispered words to find Ontari peering from Skaikru to Skaikru. "You do not speak like them," she finishes with a tilting of her head.
"I guess you rubbed off on me, Ontari," Clarke shrugs, and she smirks as Ontari looks away for a moment at her words.
"All done," Raven calls out, only to be met with Bellamy's grimace as her voice echoes through the building. "Chill, Bell, no one's here."
"That's not the p—"
"Ok," Clarke cuts in as she strides up to Raven. "Let's see those blueprints again, Raven."
"Sure," and she pulls out the map, the route from the dam through the tunnels and to the Mountain laid out over a satellite image of the surrounding area.
"How long until the Mountain knows the power's out?" Clarke asks.
"Pretty much instantly," comes the shrugged response. "But they'll be blind for a minute. Enough time for the army to open the main doors. They'll have back up generators though, so while they're fighting at the front trying to get inside we can sneak in and take them out too."
"Good," and Clarke pauses for a moment as she eyes the bombs. "How far away do we need to be?"
"Yeah, I'd step back," Raven smirks as she waves the detonator in her hand.
"Ready?" Raven smiles at the warriors that huddle together in a large group outside the generator room.
"Do it," Clarke says grimly, her fingers coming up to plug her ears. "I'd do the same," she whispers quietly as Entani eyes her oddly.
And maybe she'll laugh tomorrow at this memory as Ontari merely rolls her eyes at what must seem a strange motion, and as Entani stuffs her thumbs into her ears and as Torvun claps his hands over both of his and as other warriors, Trikru and Azgeda alike mimic their actions.
"You're going to regret not doing this, Onta—"
And generators explode.
"Jesus," and he reaches out quickly to grab Monty by the elbow as the Mountain shakes. "What was that?"
"I'm not sure," Wells whispers in response. "But I think it was the dam blowing," and he glances around himself briefly as two Mount Weather guards rush past.
"This is it, then?" Monty whispers. "I guess the hack worked. They didn't trip any alarms at the dam."
"Yeah," Wells says again as a hand comes to brush against his forehead. "We need to get to the back entrance, be ready to let them in."
And as they begin moving away down the corridor the lights flicker, they brighten for only a moment. And then they go out.
The path through the tunnels is an anxious thing, the shadows the small group makes casting long figures on the ground they walk on. And she thinks it her imagination, she thinks it her thoughts, but as they continue further into the tunnels she thinks she feels the quiet cracks in the distance, quiet booms echoing through the stone that signal the fight she is sure the army must be facing.
"How far?" she asks quietly, turning to Raven in the torchlight.
"Not far," Raven says as she shows Clarke the map, "just another turn and it should be right in front of us," Raven continues as she looks to Octavia. "Didn't you say there were reapers in these tunnels, O?"
"They're probably attacking the main army," Harper replies from behind.
Clarke sighs once, her heart beating in her chest just a bit stronger as she feels the anticipation build. But, true to Raven's words, as they round a corner they find a light that shines quietly at the end of the tunnel.
"Ok," and Clarke looks around her. "We've had it easy so far. Don't expect it to be this way once we're inside, the army's probably taking a lot of casualties right now so we need to be quick. We get inside. We take out the generators if we can and we cause as much chaos and confusion as possible, ok?"
And so it's a quick dash down the tunnel and as they approach Clarke finds a door recessed into the stone, a small access panel glowing faintly to the right of it and a window that looks into the small entrance that awaits them.
"They're not here," Raven whispers as she peers through the small window, her eyes squinting in the dark.
"Wells won't let us down," Bellamy answers, his fingers tightening around his rifle. "Just wait."
Clarke looks around her then, the Azgeda, white faced and heavy furs wrapped around their shoulders meeting her gaze with eager smiles, their blades glinting cruelly in the flickering of the light. She even eyes the Trikru for a moment, nodding at the few bows of heads she is sent, their own brown and green and black leathers and lighter furs clinging to their bodies dully.
"Raven," Clarke whispers in the silence as she turns to the other woman. "Can you get this door open?"
"Yeah," Raven shrugs, "but we'll lose the element of surprise if I blow them," and she peers back into the window.
"It's taking too long, bl—"
"No need, Clarke," and Raven turns back to face her with a smile. "Wells is here."
It's an odd moment then as Clarke eyes the window and sees a figure move in the room behind the door, the emergency light of the Mountain still flickering poorly. But the access panel turns green, a sharp click echoes through the tunnel and then the door swings open with a small swish.
"Hey Raven," and Clarke's eyes settle on a man.
She finds his eyes careful, kind and anxious in the light, but she sees the smile that lingers across his lips, she sees the light as it dances across his dark skin in a familiar pattern and she sees the close cut hair he wears.
"Hey Wells," Raven smiles. "Glad you could make it to the party."
"Yeah," and Wells reaches out quickly, his arms wrapping around Raven for a moment.
"Enough with the pleasantries, Wells," Bellamy hisses. "We need to get moving," and Bellamy jerks his chin to the Azgeda and Trikru that watch Wells.
"Yeah, come on, let's g—"
And he pauses. His eyes moving from face to face, a smile sent to Octavia, Harper and the few other Skaikru guards. His gaze travels over the Azgeda, narrowing for a moment at the scowl Ontari carries before they settle on Clarke.
And it's a shocked pause. A narrowing of his eyes and a double take. But his mouth opens, his eyes waver for a moment as he looks at Clarke.
"Hi Wells," and maybe it comes out quiet. Maybe it comes out broken and just a bit too choked.
But he hears her voice. He sees the broken smile that lingers across her lips and the blue of her eyes.
"Clarke?" and it's disbelief that colours his voice, that brings shock and anguish across his face.
"It's me," she whispers, Ontari's gaze narrowing suspiciously between them both.
"Look, I'm all for reunions but we're in a hurry," Raven cuts in quickly, just a small apologetic smile flashed towards Clarke before she grabs the nearest Trikru by the arm and drags the warrior, leathers first, into the Mountain.
Clarke can feel Wells' eyes drilling into the back of her head as she rushes down the corridor, the flickering of the lights and distant shouts all she can hear as the back entrance fades behind them.
"Monty's helping," Wells hisses as he keeps pace, his words sent to Raven and Bellamy. "He's further ahead, keeping watch," he finishes.
And so the small war party moves forward swiftly. The corridor they travel through ends at another door, and Clarke finds another person crouching low against the panel, a small laptop propped up in his lap as he turns back to face them. His eyes widening for a moment as Torvun comes to a halt not far from him.
"Hey guys," Monty waves sheepishly as he smiles at the Skaikru. "Long time no see," he finishes with a small laugh.
"Yeah, Monty, nice to see you t—"
"We don't have time," Clarke hisses as she pushes past the gathering skaikru. "Monty, right?" and the boy looks up at her.
"That's me," and it comes out just a bit shaky as his eyes trace the scars across her face.
"The generators. Do you know where they are?" and Clarke pins him with a fierce gaze.
"Yeah," Monty answers quickly.
"Good," and she turns to Raven. "Raven. Your job is to take them out. We need to make as much noise as possible. Ok?" and she pauses as the other woman nods grimly. "Monty, you show her on the map we've got. We're going to be splitting up."
And Wells eyes widen for a moment as his head turns between Clarke and Raven and then to Monty.
"What's your plan, Clarke?" and Wells looms closer.
"We're splitting into three teams," Clarke answers quickly as she turns to face the warriors behind her as she counts their numbers. "One team takes out the generators. One team goes through the Mountain and makes as much noise as possible. And the last team is going to take control."
"How?" and Clarke turns to face Octavia.
"There's a control centre, a central place where everything is controlled, right? Just like on the Ark?" and Monty's eyes widen for a moment at her words as he turns to face Bellamy who whispers a quiet I'll explain later.
"Yeah," Wells answers. "I know where it is."
"Ok," and Clarke looks to Monty. "Monty, you're coming with me, I need your help. You clearly know what you're doing with computers. Octavia, you take the Trikru and Raven and get to those generators and destroy them."
"I will lead the Azgeda," Ontari says quickly. "We will destroy the Mountain Men and give you time," she finishes with an eager smile, a number of Azgeda growling quietly with her.
And so Clarke nods her head firmly, her eyes settling upon Octavia who gives her a quick nod before she faces the Trikru, Lincoln by her side as she begins separating their numbers.
"Stay safe," Ontari whispers as she moves closer to Clarke in the moment they find as the Azgeda and Trikru gather into three groups. "We will meet again after this fight," and Ontari grips Clarke's shoulder firmly, a small smile spreading across her lips.
"I will go with Ontari," and Clarke peers over her shoulder as Entani pushes through two Azgeda warriors. "Someone needs to make sure she does not injure herself further," the other healer finishes with a smile.
And so Clarke returns the smile with her own, her hand clasping Entani's forearm as they share one last glance.
The shouting starts almost instantly. And as Clarke and her small force rushes through an empty corridor the first of the gunshots echo through the Mountain. And she only has time to cast a quick glance behind her before the shooting stops as suddenly as it began. She peers through the window in the door then before she turns back to find Echo standing close to Torvun, Wells and Monty lingering close by and Bellamy picking up the rear, his rifle aimed down the way they came.
"Clarke," Wells says as they come to a stop at another door. "There's something you need to know."
And she turns to face him, his eyes quickly glancing to her forehead before meeting her eyes.
"Mount Weather isn't just creating reapers," and he turns briefly to Monty before glancing at Echo and Torvun. "They're using the grounders. They're using them as blood bags."
"What?" Clarke hisses.
"The radiation, what we expected the air to still be like," and Wells worries his lip. "The people here never had a chance to adapt, never had a chance to become immune. They use grounder blood. They kill them, take their blood and use it," he finishes with a grimace, Monty who stands close by also casting his eyes away. "I thought I could convince them that the grounders were friendly, that it was all just a misunderstanding. But when I found out they were bleeding the grounders I knew…" and he trails off, his brows furrowing painfully.
And it angers her. It makes her fist clench tightly as she grips her knife. And she feels the rage slowly build, her mind beginning to turn over what she must now consider, and as she thinks, as she ponders and as she assesses the proble—
"We must focus, Clarke," and Torvun's hand shakes her shoulder firmly. "We can not lose focus now," and he comes to stand in front of her.
And she knows Torvun is correct.
"Ok," and she breathes in deeply. "We get to the control centre. We take over the Mountain. We free the grounders after," and she worries her lip for a moment. "Let's go."
They find their first guards as they rush to the stairwell, and so Echo flings her knife forward and it strikes the first guard in the throat, punching out his blood and spraying it across the walls as he falls to his knees, his fingers coming to clench at the blood that gurgles through the jagged tear. Bellamy shoots the second, and the guard drops to the ground with a crack, a hole smashed through his chest as blood pools beneath him.
"Level seven," Monty whispers as Torvun pushes open the door.
Clarke nods her head in understanding, the sounds of gunfire once more echoing through the corridor as more guards find the other warriors who have infiltrated the Mountain.
Raven lets out another loud curse as she feels the hiss of the bullet and the snapping of air as it whips past her, and so she dives to the floor, an arrow being sent over her head and as she peers up from where she lies she finds a Mountain Man toppling backwards, the arrow embedded in his forehead as blood sprays against the walls.
"Shit," she curses as she rises, Lincoln's firm grip lifting her to her feet. "Thanks," and she wipes a hand across her face quickly.
"I guess they know we're going for the generators," Harper grits out from besides her, her rifle's barrel smoking as she aims down the corridor.
She ducks once more, her braids whipping out around her as she spins, as she leaps through the air and as she imbeds her sword through another Mountain Man's chest with a snarl. And she thinks she hears the muffled sounds of her name being called and so she turns, she spins and she feels the crash of a body against her waist as she's tackled to the ground.
It's a frantic scramble as she finds herself on the ground. She manages to plant her feet though, and so she raises her hips and snaps her body around with the momentum, the force of her movements shaking the man atop her enough, and so she snarls as she brings her head up and smashes it against his chin.
And as she rolls from under him she hears the dulled thump as a spear smashes into his chest.
Entani grabs her arm and lifts her to her feet with a laugh, her fist grasping her spear as she pulls it from the dying man's body.
"You should have listened to Clarke," Entani smirks. "You did not hear me shout your name."
And so Ontari growls out once more, her eyes already searching for the next enemy to destroy.
"I can't believe how good this plan is," Raven says as she attaches one of her bombs to the generators. "They think we're attacking from the front. Then we take out the dam. They think the front is a distraction so they focus on the dam. Then we get the doors open— which I'm sure has happened now, that's why we aren't getting attacked so bad, so they're back to the front," and she looks up to see Octavia eyeing her with a smile. "Anyway. Dam down, doors open, so we're attacking from the front, right? But nope. We're already inside suckers," and she laughs as she sets the timer, her eyes glancing at her watch for a moment before checking the other bombs already planted.
It's too quiet. And as Clarke creeps forward, she looks down the corridor carefully, the furs of her boots muffling her steps.
"We're almost there," Monty whispers from besides her. "Other end of the corridor and the two double doors are it," he finishes.
"What are you planning, Clarke?" Wells asks.
"If we get into the control room we can lock down the Mountain," she says quietly. "We can reduce the number of people who have to die," and she looks at Torvun for a moment, a small nod all he sends her way.
They continue forward quietly, and as they approach the bend she hears a rapid exchange of words and the crackle of a radio.
"…est chambers. We need it locked down."
And so she shares just one quick glance with Echo and Bellamy before they both step out from around the corner, Echo's knives flashing through the air and Bellamy's rifle cracking as he fires it towards the guard outside the command centre.
They rush to the doors then, an access panel glowing red as the two guards slump over, one wearing the dark black of the Ark.
"Monty, I need this door open," she hisses.
"On it," he says.
Clarke watches as Monty plugs in his laptop, his fingers dancing over the keys as his eyes move from string of code to string of code.
"Almost got it," he says with a glance up to Wells besides him.
"Be ready. We need to kill whoever's in there as quickly as possible."
The next few moments are tense. The distant echoing of gunfire that rumbles through the corridors and the faint thumping of explosions lingering in the space around them. Monty looks at Clarke then, a grim smile finding its way across his lips as his finger hovers over the spacebar.
And it's a rush.
Clarke nods once, Monty presses the space bar and the doors click. Torvun smashes through them, his body crashing against the metal as his momentum carries him forward. They find the command centre to be full of computer screens with four men standing around. One man turns at the sound, his hand reaching for the gun at his belt as his eyes widen in surprise. Torvun crashes into him, his hand smashing against the guard's nose and Clarke grimaces as blood smears across Torvun's fist and as Torvun drives his sword through the man's stomach. Echo leaps over the nearest table, a knife flinging from her as she already begins drawing the second, the second guard's gun not even drawn as the knife plunges into his chest. Bellamy fires his rifle, the bullet tearing into another man's shoulder, his hair dark and combed back and his eyes sharp in the dark of the command centre. The last man turns slowly, his hair a whitened grey, his features old and weathered.
"Clarke," he says, his eyes flicking to her as she pulls the arrow in her bow back. "I've been waiting for you," he finishes as his eyes flicker to the wounded man on the ground, Bellamy's foot against his chest, rifle aimed at his face.
"I don't really care," Clarke says in answer as she feels the bowstring creak against her fingers.
Wells and Monty enter the room then, their eyes landing on the older man who eyes them mournfully.
"Your father's out there, Wells," and he nods his head towards a computer screen. "You can end this."
"It's too late to end anything, Dante," Wells answers back painfully. "It was too late when you started bleeding the grounders."
"You have to understand, Wells," and the man, Dante, looks at Wells for a quiet moment. "It would have meant the end of my people, Wells," and his eyes move to Clarke.
"You didn't have to fight them," Wells answers back. "You could have asked. You could have tried something more than just killing."
"You came to us," the man on the ground hisses painfully. "Your father brought us together. To be stronger than these savages," and he jerks his chin towards Clarke. "Look at them, they disfigure themselves, they kill each other over what? The scraps of the earth?"
"This ends one of two ways," Clarke cuts in, a sneer finding its way across her lips as she eyes the wounded man before turning to the older. "I'm assuming you're the leader," and he nods his head.
"Dante Wallace. President of Mount Weather," he says evenly, his voice a low tone.
"Ok, Dante," and Clarke lifts an eyebrow slowly. "You surrender completely. Or you all die, it's simple."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," and his eyes peer at her for a moment. "I have families to look after," he continues. "There are people here, innocents, people who never hurt anyone," and he turns to Wells and Monty. "What about Maya, Monty? Are you willing to sacrifice her life?"
"You talk to me," and Clarke moves into his line of sight, her bow still aimed at him.
The lights flicker again, and as she glances around quickly she feels the floor beneath her shudder before the lights sputter once, then they cut out and the sound of a siren begins to flood through the corridors.
"You've lost," Clarke smiles to Dante. "We just took out your generators—"
And her eyes catch movement on one of the computer screens, and as she peers at it for a moment she realises that it shows the main entrance of the Mountain, the door hanging wide open, smoke and gunfire flashing across the screen.
"And we've opened the main entrance," and Dante glances at the screen. "And that siren?" Clarke continues. "I'm guessing that's warning everyone inside that there's a breach, that the air is already seeping in," and she sees his eyes flash to Wells. "He told me you use my people as blood bags. So you aren't really someone I care for."
"My people— Your people, Clarke. They are safe for now. We've sealed them off," Dante says.
"Then surrender," Clarke says quietly. "Surrender and they'll all still be alive. I don't want to kill everyone."
"Don't do it, dad," the man on the ground hisses, "don't negotiate with these savages!"
And Bellamy's fist crashes against his nose.
But as Clarke turns to face him she hears a radio click and crackle as it rests against a desk.
"I think you will want to answer that, Clarke," and Dante tilts his head slowly to the table.
Clarke nods to Torvun then who walks up to Dante, his fist gripping him around his throat as he pushes him to his knees roughly.
Clarke reaches out as she snares the radio from the desk, her thumb brushing against the button.
"We've got them," and the voice comes out loud, a crackle from the radio, but Clarke recognises the man who speaks. And Wells does, too, as his eyes widen and he stares at the radio in her hands. "Dante, are you there?"
"Thelonious?" and the name leaves her mouth painfully, her eyes flicking to Wells.
"Clarke?"
"Surrender," she says, her eyes snapping to the man still lying on the ground, a smirk beginning to spread across his lips.
"You've lost," he splutters past the blood coating his lips.
"Shut it," Bellamy snaps as he digs his foot into the man's throat again.
"Surrender," Clarke repeats. "I have Dante prisoner. Surrender and the army won't kill everyone."
"That's not happening Clarke," Thelonious answers carefully. "Turn on monitor three," he finishes firmly.
"Monty?" Clarke asks as she turns to find Monty already seated at a computer.
"Already on it."
Clarke's eyes turn to the computer screens then, a number turned off, but it doesn't take long until one splutters for a moment before the image snaps into focus.
And her eyes widen as she stares at the image before her. She finds rows and rows of cages, and in the distance she think she even sees them hanging from the roof, chains swaying quietly. But what horrifies her, what sickens her and makes her rage is the people she sees.
In each cage crouches grounder after grounder after grounder. Their bodies bruised, beaten and bloodied, their bones sickly and prominent and their limbs fragile and withered where they crouch, some on their knees, some curled into themselves, their bodies shaking in the cold, some motionless where they lie.
She finds people standing in the centre of the screen though, guns in their hands as they point them at some of the grounders in the cages. But her eyes widen even further, her mouth opens slowly in horror as she recognises the white of the war paint and the grey and white furs of Azgeda that a number of figures wear, their hands on their heads as they kneel facing away from those who stand, guns aimed at the captured warriors.
"Do you understand now?" Thelonious says as a figure on the screen moves forward, his face turning up to face the camera.
"Let them go," Clarke hisses in to the radio.
"No, Clarke," and Thelonious sighs heavily. "I know you. You're smart, you could join us here. Mount Weather is everything we wanted. Everything that we deserve," and he sweeps his arm towards the grounders, those caged and those kneeling. "We thought you died," he continues. "But you survived. You know what they're like. You could live just like you did on the Ark."
"Let. Them. Go."
And it comes out angry and furious and her fingers tighten around the radio as she stares at the screen.
"No," and Thelonious sighs once more. "I have my own deal. If you won't join us then walk away. Leave the Mountain. Or we kill everyone," and he pauses as he approaches one of the kneeling Azgeda.
Clarke turns to Wells then, but she finds him staring at the screen, his own face horrified and pained as his eyes move from person to person that fills each cage.
And so she takes a steadying breath, her mind turning over what she faces. And as she eyes Thelonious who continues to stare up at the camera, and as she eyes the cages that fade back into the distance she thinks hundreds of grounders remain caged and trapped. She turns her gaze to the Azgeda that remain kneeling too, and as her eyes trace the furs they wear she thinks she recognises Ontari's scowl, the way her braids fall across her shoulders and the furs she wears.
"You're running out of time, Clarke," and Thelonious reaches out, his free hand gripping Ontari by the throat as he drags her forward. "If you don't surrender I will kill everyone. Beginning with the leader of this group," and he shoves Ontari forward forcefully, her face coming to smash against the floor before her hands can break her fall. "And after her. I will kill every grounder kneeling before me. And then I will kill every grounder in these cages."
Clarke's gaze snaps from Ontari's kneeling figure to another who reacts violently, her hands coming from her head as she lunges for Thelonious, but as she nears, as her hands snake out two guards rush forward and force her to the ground, their feet smashing into her ribs as they kick her, as they grip her hair and smash her face against a table edge until she falls to the ground. And Clarke sees Ontari react, too. She sees Ontari spin, her eyes wild with rage as she sees Entani's bloodied body twitch on the ground. But Thelonious levels a handgun at her face, her gaze hardening as he stares her in the eyes.
And Clarke knows what she has to do.
"Listen to me very carefully."
And it hurts, her mind screams out and her chest tightens. But she keeps her gaze focused on Ontari, nose bloodied, war paint smeared and ruined as it drips down her cheek.
"I will not stop until my people are free."
And she stares at Entani, her body curling in on itself as she cradles her ribs painfully, as blood seeps from her face and pools around her.
"If you don't let them go."
And she turns to Torvun to see that from where he stand over Dante, his eyes are glued to the screen as he stares helplessly at Entani's twitching body, at the Azgeda that remain kneeling and at Ontari who stares at Thelonious, gun still aimed at her head.
"I will irradiate the entire Mountain."
And as the words leave her lips she hears Dante shudder, she hears Wells let out a pained sound and she hears the wounded man curse out at her.
But she ignores it. She switches off the radio for a moment and she turns to Monty.
"Can you do it?" she asks and he swallows, his eyes flicking from Wells to Dante.
"Yeah, I can do it, just give m—"
"You bitch! You fucking bi—"
And her arrow snaps forward, her bow drawn and the bowstring released in a quick motion as she spins, as she aims and as she releases the arrow. And she watches as it smashes into the wounded man's chest, his eyes widening in shock as blood bubbles past his lips and as his eyes begin to gloss and as blood pools from the wound.
"That is how serious I am," Clarke says as she turns to face Dante. "Tell Thelonious to stop."
"No," and it comes out tired, it comes out broken and pained and his eyes close sadly as he breathes out. "I will not be responsible for my people's destruction."
"Please," and she wants to rage out, she wants to scream and tear at her hair as she gazes upon Dante, as she finds an acceptance spread across his face. "We can end this," and she knows she begs now, she knows she fights against a known.
And it hurts.
"I don't want to kill anyone," and she whispers it quietly, brokenly and she lets her eyes hold Dante's gaze. "Just let my people go," but she thinks she knows his answers. "We just want to survive."
And so Dante smiles wanly at her.
"Don't we all?"
And as his words leave his lips Torvun drags his knife across the man's throat, the blade glinting in the dark of the room as Dante's blood bubbles and froths and gurgles across Torvun's fingers.
And it hurts.
Clarke turns back to Monty, his fingers flowing over the keyboard, Wells resting a hand against his shoulder in support as his eyes remain transfixed on the screen.
"Clarke," and she turns back to the screen to find Thelonious pressing the gun to Ontari's head, his arm wrapped around her throat as he holds the radio to his lips. "I know you, Clarke."
And she tears her eyes from his image, her fists close tightly and her breaths come pained and shallow and broken.
"I know you, Clarke," and the voice echoes throughout the room. "You'll do the right thing. For your people," and Thelonious pulls Ontari closer to him as he stares into the camera.
Monty finds her gaze though, his hands stilling in their motions, and a sad smile finding its way across his lips.
"Just pull this," and he motions to a lever by his side. "Hatches and vents will open, scrubbers will reverse pulling in outside air," and he looks to Wells before finding Clarke's gaze once more.
And it hurts.
Her eyes move slowly from the screen, from Ontari's bloodied face as it's held cruelly in Thelonious' arm, then to Entani who still lies curled on the floor, her blood smeared against the harsh cold of the metal, her furs bloodied, her war paint a crimson red.
And her eyes turn to Echo who stares at the screen, her lips turned up into a ferocious snarl, fingers gripped painfully around a knife.
She finds Torvun moving slowly to her as well, his eyes careful as he peers from the lever to her face.
And she meets Bellamy's gaze too, a grimace spread across his lips as his fingers whiten around his rifle.
And she knows.
"I have to save them."
And it's a quiet whisper, something that breathes past her lips, that burns against her tongue and scratches in her throat. The words drill into her mind, they tear into her lungs and leave her ragged and broken.
And so her fingers close around the lever, her eyes turn back to the screen and she stares into the image of Thelonious. And as she wraps her fingers around the lever she brings the radio to her lips.
"You don't know me at all."
And it's slow. It's quick and it's too clean. Too simple. Too easy. The lever tugs against her hand for a moment before it rises, before it arcs through the air slowly. And then it settles. And Clarke leans into Torvun's hand as he brings it to her shoulder quietly.
But her eyes focus on the screen.
She stares at the guards who stand behind the captured Azgeda and she sees the difference in uniforms. And it starts slowly. She sees a few begin to twitch where they stand, she sees a few begin to shift uncomfortably. And she knows. She feels her heart beat lonesome in her chest as one guard reaches for his face, his lips turning into an agonised scream as his body shakes, as his fingers clench at his flesh and as his skin begins to bubble and peel.
She sees an Ark guard step back in horror, his eyes widening as the woman next to him grips her throat, as her hand comes to her head and as she pulls out tuffs of her hair, her scalp coming away in chunks of boiling flesh that Clarke thinks she can hear rip, that she thinks she can smell and breathe in.
And it sickens her. It burns into her eyes and into her nose. And she hears it. She hears the bubbling and the cracking and she smells it. She smells the burning of flesh as it rips through her sense.
And she sees Dante's body begin to bubble, she sees it begin to burn, begin to boil and froth and melt into the floor.
And it's a scream. It's a shout and an explosion of noise. Her eyes snap back to the screen and she sees the Azgeda warriors react. She sees them lunge and she sees them crash against the Ark guards. She sees one take a bullet in the throat, her hands coming up to clutch at the wound as she topples to the ground and she sees two Azgeda smash into the man who killed her, she sees them rip the gun from his hand and smash him into the cage before beating into him.
But she stares. She stares and can't turn her eyes away as she sees Ontari swivel, as she sees Ontari smash her forehead into Thelonious and as she lunges for him.
But she sees him raise the gun as he falls back. She sees the flash and she hears the crack as it rips through the radio.
And she sees Ontari drop.