AN: It's been forever. I'm sorry. RL has just been insane, and I've been rewriting my previous drafts with some major changes for the future of this story. Hope everyone likes this greatly tardy chapter anyway.

Chapter 3: Happier

(Marshmello ft. Bastille)

91 days till the end

Morning

Hardly a quarter of an hour from Hundred Camp's gate, Caliban's elbow nudged Clarke gently. He was marching at her side, with their companions falling out at ease behind them. When she looked questioningly at him, he slightly nodded up ahead, and to the side of her. Even with the mostly bare trees, other than the patches of evergreens, the bushes and trees were thickly crowded enough that it took a moment to spot the gleam of armor, and dark skin, off in the distance.

The pair leading the way walked mostly in silence. Caliban's steady gaze swept in each direction as they moved, and Clarke was mainly letting the chatter of Monroe telling Fox, Bree, Sterling, Mary, Collette, and Atom about Polis, and the journeys back and forth, wash over them. Barely noticing the quiet exchanges between Nyko, his son, and the pair of warriors that had flanked Caliban when they arrived at the back of the group, she still made sure their party didn't spread out too far apart, keeping the pace slow enough to accommodate Mary's slow steps in the middle of the group. Each time they came into sight of one of Triku's watchers, chosen by Anya from her most trusted men and women in Ton DC, Caliban would point them out discretely to Clarke. Only a few of them were close enough for her or any of the rest of Skaikru to notice on their own. So many, and so closely set, Clarke was willing to bet they could always see at least two of their fellows at any given time. Trikru, Lexa, was taking no chances. Azgeda, whether or not any of them remembered, would not get anywhere near the mountain in this life.

With the gruff warrior at her side, never beyond arm's reach, and the forest full of Anya's own chosen loyal, Clarke walked at ease.

In this moment, she felt safe. Unbidden, Clarke laughed, soft and low, and when Caliban eyed her curiously, a smile twitched beneath his sharp, dark eyes.

"Thank you, Caliban kom Trikru. If I said thank you a thousand times, it wouldn't be enough," she confessed softly, locking her bright blue gaze upon his face, even as they walked carefully.

The thick, damp floor of the woods was heavily coated in the slowly decaying leaves. It made for an odd, muted rustle as their large group trod upon them.

"I feel the sun on my face, the cold breeze of fresh air rushing past, I smell the forest, musty but alive. Just lying in wait for spring. In this moment, I am free. All my life on the Ark, Earth was the dream. Even... well, if... this all falls apart... I never imagined I would walk in a forest, safe and surrounded by allies... and friends. In this moment, I am free,"

As she spoke, focusing on the intense gaze of the man she couldn't help but feel guilty over, no matter the changes, Clarke did not realize the silence that fell on the group trailing them.

Caliban looked around them, less warily this time, he tried to see the world through her eyes- so young, so new to this land, but oh so magnificent...

"Wanheda, I am honored by you," he murmured, more conscious of the listening audience, but looking back in time to catch a wide smile flashing across her face.

"As I am honored by you, and Trikru, and our alliance. Our friendship," returned Clarke, low, but reverent, as she lifted her gaze to the sunshine coming through the bare branches before them. Feeling the sun on her face, trying to soak in enough of it to last for a half decade. Slowly, the cheerful hum behind them resumed, and Clarke smiled over at the man at her side again.

On either side of the great door of the mountain, stood two Trikru men Clarke recognized- they'd accompanied Indra to Arkadia, a lifetime ago. They'd been two of the unit that had backed her at Indra's direction when she'd defied her mother, and wrestled control of Emerson from the chancellor. Her nod to them as she led the way into the bunker was respectfully deep. What had become of these men, who'd not seen more than once or twice after that... shamefully, Clarke realized, she had no idea. Crossing the threshold, shiver went down her spine, as it always did when she dared to walk where she'd slaughtered an entire civilization.

She stepped to the wall, and turned to watch the group follow her inside, Caliban first, taking a place at her side against the wall with a smirk.

Following behind Bree, and Sterling, Mary froze in the great, wide door frame. Her face was pale, and thin, and Clarke bit her lip at the thought that the young mother looked as though she'd seen a ghost.

It was only surprising not all of them did.

Opening her mouth, words failed, catching in Clarke's throat. She could not urge somebody inside of this place. Instead, she looked anxiously to Monroe, and Fox, as they parted to come in on either side of Mary. With a brusque nod, Monroe caught hold of Mary's arm on her side, and hauled her forwards slowly.

Mary groaned, but once through the threshold, looked down and continued under her own power forwards.

Clarke turned sharply away, to lead them on in.

Their footsteps echoed in the halls of smooth stone and cold metal.

The maternity wing of Mt. Weather was not connected to the main medical facilities, but it was located close by. It's waiting room was tiny- just two heavily worn, matching pastel paisley sofas, squeezed in front of a small secretary's desk.

Behind the desk, a key-coded door waited, and Clarke entered, thanks to Monty's previous visits. The long, narrow hall ran to each side, with five doors each left and right.

To Clarke's right, labeled doors announced the six bed maternity ward, a two doctor's office, and two multi-purpose procedure rooms whose large, equipped status revealed easily that they were used for everything from GYN exams to labor and delivery. To the left, a two bed quarantine unit, the operating suite, the tiny, but clearly efficient NICU, a storage room, and the lab.

Unlike the salvaged, thrown together OB facilities on the Ark, this compact wing, though a century old and heavily used nature, had been specifically designed. It had been state of the art at the time of the Catalyst, Clarke knew instinctively.

Once Caliban and his men, along with the eager, curious Artigas, and Monroe, with Atom and Sterling, had swept the wing- as if someone could possibly sneaked inside, with what looked like half of Ton DC surrounding the mountain on watch, Clarke shooed the most of the group back to the tiny waiting room.

Encouraging Nyko, Bree, Sterling, and Mary to follow her, and smiling when Collette came to walk at Mary's side, Clarke calmly began to explain the purpose, and possibilities of each suite within the wing. The two multi-purpose rooms, though mostly still white and metal, had faded decorations of soft pink and blue. Wide, lockable cabinets covered every inch of the wall that they possibly could of the long rooms. Just inside the door was a sink for scrubbing, and counter space, totally bare, for supplies. The back of the room was curtained off, and when pushed back, the washed out pink and blue checked curtain revealed a neonatal assessment and care station. The high, tiny exam table, and the newborn warmer made a wave of nauseous start in Clarke's stomach. Every child she'd killed, had been born here. To mothers who'd treasured them... held HOPE for them... which Clarke had burnt away.

Coughing a bit, she forced away those thoughts.

"This would be the best possible place to have your baby," pointed out the young leader smoothly, glancing back at the little huddle of Skaikru teenagers, looking terribly out of place in the birthing room- from their young faces, to their furs and the Trikru-gifted swords, Mt. Weather had never had expecting parents anything like these.

Pointedly touching nothing, the great bear of a Trikru healer was eyeing the levers and parts of the adjustable bed with great suspicion. Across the room, Bree was looking rather eagerly at the deep tub that took up a huge chunk of the long room, while Sterling seemed frozen in the doorway of the room. Meanwhile Collette was curiously looking over the molded plastic birth stool, and the puddle of deflated yoga ball, and the rest of the few supplies too large to be tucked inside a cabinet. Shoulders hunched, Mary was standing beside the rolling equipment tray that had been left abandoned in the center of the room. Her face had only grown more conflicted, her lip, chapped, Clarke realized faintly, bit till it lost color.

"It's just... not home," demurred Mary, her eyes locked down on the white tile floor that had yellowed with age.

"It's a graveyard," is what Clarke heard though.

"Running water, warming trays, resuscitation equipment, medications..." listed off Clarke flatly, even as she crossed the room to start at the cabinet nearest the door.

"I wouldn't want to walk through the woods in labor," pointed out Mary, ignoring Collette's attempts to pull her over to check out the tub, where Bree had sat down on the side of.

With a thoughtful hum, Clarke continued to rummage methodically, top to bottom, through the hidden supplies- finding everything from hand soap to newborn size clothes as she went along.

"So you could move in here once you're a bit closer." suggested the young leader.

"We wouldn't leave you here alone. Of course, you could ask whomever you wanted to stay here too," assured Clarke, when she glanced back over at Mary, and saw her horrified expression.

"Places are not evil. New life could revive this place," murmured Nyko kindly, even as he hesitantly leaned closer to examine the infant warmer.

With both of the expecting mothers weighed, blood samples, and hesitantly brought to the lab to be tested, with Nyko on her heels, silently taking it all in, Clarke then searched the storage room, making mental notes- every piece of equipment she could have imagined, but very low stock of all medications.

Mary had been left with Collette in the first room, and Bree sent off with Sterling to get comfortable in the second. Ultrasound machine, neatly ready on a rolling cart, in tow, Clarke knocked on the door, and a moment later, pulled the cart inside, nodding her head to get Nyko to follow her.

On the bed, leaning back slightly, Mary and Collette had their heads close together, talking intently, but both straightened up when Clarke entered the room.

"My first prenatal patient," realized Clarke, a flash of panic rising, brief, but strong, so out of her depth she didn't know which way was up. It passed, with a deep breathe steadying herself, but she smiled awkwardly at the pair waiting anxiously in front of her. With another centering breathe, she wheeled the cart into place beside the bed, and began to get ready.

Collette watched her silently for a moment, before she resumed chattering cheerfully to Mary- gushing about names (Clarke really hoped Mary didn't take Collette's suggestion about naming the baby "River,") and whether or not she'd have a boy or girl. The flood of words tugged Mary's attention back to her friend, and left Clarke to fumble about in a little less pressure. In the drawer nearest the bed, she found the clear gel, that made Mary whimper at the coldness, and in the one below it, a sterile drape she used to tuck Mary's grounder-made drawstring pants down low enough.

Slowly, pushing through the uncertainty of acting way above her pay-grade, Clarke finally had everything arranged, and with a look encouraging Nyko to step closer, she pressed the wand, feather-light, against the taunt swell of belly before her. It took a second before she remembered it ought to be pressed firmer, and Clarke adjusted carefully, feeling Mary shift in response, and then a squirm of the child within made her gasp. Mary smiled, proud, and shy, and hopeful. Clarke grinned back.

The ultrasound machine she found was higher quality than the Ark had dreamed of- small and portable, but once she got it going, the picture quality was amazing, and it was easier to use- idiot-proof, Jackson might have whispered under his breath to her behind her mother's back, had this been what they'd learned to use in space. The monitor was small, but startlingly clear.

Gazing carefully at the screen, and rolling the wand slowly across Mary's belly, Clarke chewed her lip, blocking out the feel of all the eyes, wary, and hopeful, upon her. Watching the trio of females hardly more than girls, and the strange, fascinating tools, Nyko held his breathe unconsciously, feeling Wanheda's tension.

With a quick smile, she flicked the sound on.

Mary choked, and Collette squealed.

"That's baby's heartbeat," confirmed Clarke, grinning at the girls, and looking to Nyko to see his reaction. He smiled, pleased enough, though still obviously uncertain.

"Ohhhh my god," whispered Mary, her eyes huge, and trying to lean a bit forward to eye the monitor as best she could. Clarke picked it up, and showed it to the young mother for a moment, before bringing it back to the stand to keep going.

Clarke titled her head a bit, trying to make sense of the what she was seeing.

"I think baby's laying sideways," she murmured.

"Is that ok?" whispered Mary, and her friend gripped her hand tighter in support. Both their faces tensed in quick burst of anxiety.

Clarke looked up from where she was bent close to the screen.

"It's fine!" she assured them, "Not a problem. I'm just... I just have almost no idea what I'm doing with this, ok? Reading an ultrasound is a skill that I never learned. I can turn it on, and I can see that baby looks ok, but my measurements are coming back different every time, and I'm never going to precisely figure out a due date. I'm just... trying, best I can," apologized Clarke.

"I'm not a doctor," she reminded them, when they stayed quiet, exchanging looks between the expectant mama and her best friend.

"It's ok," whispered Mary. "I'm glad to have you anyway,"

Clarke smiled gratefully, and bent back over the small monitor. Murmuring quietly to Nyko, Clarke had him lean in close so she could explain as much as possible. If she wasn't around, he'd at least be able to check the heartbeat, basic position, and check for any major deformities.

Straightening up quickly, and nearly colliding into Nyko, Clarke sucked in a breathe sharply. Anxiety filled the room around, but then... she beamed at Mary.

"I think baby is around 3lbs, and 16 inches. I'm estimating approx 32-34wks, and..." Clarke paused, letting Mary and Collette grin at each other, and waiting for them to look back to her. "I think... I think I know baby's gender,"

Collette squealed, and Mary's mouth gaped open. Nyko sucked in a breathe, trying to lean around the young healer discretely to eye the screen in frank curiosity.

"Do you want to know? You can wait, if you-"

"No!" yelped Mary, before laughing happily. "Tell me!"

Clarke glanced back down at the screen, noticing Nyko's interest, she titled it for him to see better, she checked once again, just to be sure of herself before announcing...

"I can't say for sure, but I think... you're having a son,"

"A boy," whispered Mary, "a boy,"

"First sky child born on the ground," reminded Collette with a wide grin.

The young mother looked from Clarke's face, to what she could see of the monitor, and back down to her belly, a smile slowly building.

"My son, the firstborn of Skaikru," she murmured.