Chapter 16

The burning flames blazed through her lungs, threatening to tighten her throat as she fought for an ounce of oxygen. Just one—just one, her mind repeated over and over again as thick black smoke blocked her vision. Think, think, think her rational side begged attempting to recall the events behind the unbearable ringing in her ears. There was a sharp pain in her upper thigh and she couldn't remember how—something so simple and she couldn't grasp it. The overwhelming taste of smoke littered her dry mouth as she gasped, pulling in the polluted air only to feel like she was going to suffocate again.

Despite the stretch of her lung, or the way her thigh burned, she consciously felt a hand wrapping firmly around her wrist. Immediately, she recognized it has unfamiliar—it was not dainty like Octavia's hand, or small and rough like Raven's hand and it seriously lacked the pleasurable callouses of Bellamy's all too familiar hands. In her current situation, she couldn't find it in her to be afraid of a person pulling her from a disaster. Even if said person was being extremely rough about sliding her skin across loose pebbles and caked dirt. The farther she got away from the smoke, the better her sense of smell—which honestly sucked because the mere scent of burning material, flesh and gun powder residue was enough to make her dry-heave. "Clarke! Hey, look at me!"

Her eyes were entirely unfocused on the individual in front of her—glassed over as she stared straight ahead. People were running around, dragging their friends away from the obvious explosion. She knew something was clicking as she took it in. Vaguely, she recognized Monty emerging from the clouds with his hand covering his mouth. It was all too easy for her to catalog the gash on his forehead and his slight limp. Then, Jasper emerged in the same manner except he had a cut on his cheek instead, as well as a few obvious marks that would turn into bruises. "Clarke! Are you okay?" She snapped her head to the right, eyes zeroing on her rescuer.

"Murphy?" Clarke croaked; vocal cords abused by the thick fog around them, "What the hell is going on?" He opened his mouth to say something, maybe explain how she ended up on her ass in the middle of camp surrounded by pure chaos but an ear-piercing scream ripped them away from logical explanations. Scraps of tents floated in the air, falling down around her body as they burned up into crisp pieces of nothing. She could observe Connor telling people to get the washing water to help put out the fires and to be "fucking careful, dumbasses!" and she could see that people had burns but nothing entirely bad—nothing as bad as the screams that continued to ring in her ears.

"I think Raven was working on the bullets…" Murphy nearly whispered next to her as the color drained from his face. Her heart sank low in her stomach, threatening to bring back up her lunch as she thought of all the possibilities concerning Raven's horrendous screams. Adrenaline pumped through her frightened veins as the information settled on her chest, Raven was wounded—wounded working on weaponry that she and Bellamy brought back to camp—and it was bad.

Clarke ignored the sting of the cut running across her thigh as she crossed the small space between her and the awful noises coming from Raven's mouth. Nathan Miller carried her in his arms, murmuring something about keeping pressure on the "damn gash" that extended across the side of her leg. It was the first thing Clarke noticed before she saw the burns etched into the mechanic's arms, as well as the small pieces of tent fabric that melt onto her skin. "Shit…" Clarke breathed before she regained herself. "I—medical." She told Miller with wide eyes, listening to him try to sooth Raven the best he could while he half-jogged to the drop ship.

Clarke followed, still aware that she was missing something.

The drop ship was filled with injured people, whose first instinct had been to seek her out. She took a calming breath through her nose as she directed Miller to lay Raven down on the table. "I need you to get Octavia, okay?" She told him, "Quickly." He nodded, exiting the ship as Clarke took another calming breath. It wasn't long before she was hovering over Raven, trying to figure out how to lessen her pain and which wounds were the more prominent ones.

Her leg.

Clarke's hands were clumsy as she reached for supplies—seaweed, thread, needle, moonshine. She repeated it over and over again as Raven made noises of discontent and pain. She was starting to have flashbacks of Jasper when he got stabbed by the grounder's spear. "This is going to hurt like a bitch." She told Raven before she started to pour the moonshine over her cut.

"I can take it." Raven said through gritted teeth, despite the tears in her eyes and the scream on the tip of her tongue. Clarke recognized then and there, Raven Reyes was through with acknowledging how badly she hurt.

She recognized that Raven was one hell of a fighter, too.

-x-

Bellamy came to a stumbling halt in front of the camp gate with Finn, Wells and Harper on his heels. There was nothing but regret bubbling in his stomach as he pushed through the crowds of people that needed an answer—needed guidance from him. He could assess the damage later, there was only one thing on his mind. The only thing Wells had said since they heard the blast from deep within the woods, "Clarke." He kept reminding himself the hunting trip was necessary—he kept telling himself that he had to head it to make sure it was done properly. Now, he was thinking he was an egotistical jackass that couldn't let go of the reigns long enough to stay in camp with his pregnant girlfriend who needed him.

People were hurt, his people were hurt.

What if Clarke was hurt?

"Fuck." He swore under his breath as he eagerly batted his way through the parachute, gun slung over his shoulder as he looked for her in the sea of people that waited impatiently to be checked out. His blonde miracle was leaning over Raven, mumbling incoherent words as she picked at fabric from the dark burns on her skin. From where he stood, he could see the blood on Clarke's body. He couldn't be sure if it was her blood or Raven's blood or even someone else's blood.

Octavia moved in front of him with crossed arms but her sternness hadn't reached her eyes yet. "What the hell are you doing in here? The camp is going crazy outside and last time I checked, you don't have any medical training."

"You don't—"

"Don't start with me, Bellamy. Get out. Let us do our jobs." Octavia ordered him but Bellamy was tight-lipped, eyes wide and concerned as he watched Clarke work in her own little world. He needed her. He needed her more than anything in the world. "Clarke's going to be fine, Bellamy. She was at the edge of the explosion, only a cut on her leg. We'll treat it when she's done with Raven."

"She's hurt?" He asked, clearly not listening to anything Octavia was saying. "Dammit…what about the baby, Octavia? Has anyone checked on—"

Octavia put a hand on his shoulder giving it a tight squeeze, "Everything's going to be okay…please, just do your job."

"Clarke—"

"Is strong. I'll have her meet you when we're done with this but until then, we have to make sure our numbers don't drop due to infection or head injuries—okay?" His little sister was using her soothing voice but it wasn't helping him at all. His heart was still beating unnaturally and there was a longing in his eyes that could not be extinguished.

He just wanted Clarke to look at him and smile.

Hey guys,

I know it's been forever but thanks for sticking by me and waiting. I had a serious case of writer's block.

Please Review!