A/N:

Sorry for the late update guys, my body decided to be a bitch - as usual - and made it really difficult to finish this chapter. On the bright side, though, I'm now an auntie! My little nephew, Charlie, was born healthy and cute tonight. Does not feel real at all. I'm hoping I get to meet him within the next month or so, depending on Covid.

so the following chapters (33-50) weren't actually originally in this fic. I started writing them when I got really sick last year (cos writing is my therapy, apologies in advance). This meant that I then had to rewrite chapters (51-66) because they originally came in after chapter 32. So things might not flow completely smoothly but I'm hoping it isn't too noticeable. I suppose we'll find out when we get past chapter fifty lol.

Also this fic is turning out to be SO much longer than expected. It's definitely probably going to end up in the 90s or 100s which I was hoping against. Though I have been moving some chapters/scenes to other sea mechanic fics that I'm working on, since they no longer fit in this one or conflict with what I've gone on to write. So that might end up affecting the length, who knows.

We're back in Luna's POV now so it's angst o'clock


[Trigger warning: self-harm, canon torture, implied threat of sexual assault (very vague), implied suicidal thoughts (also very vague), past child abuse]


'I don't wanna drown no more

Sick of the same old people

The kind that will sell your soul

Trade it for a shining stone

Ain't nothing in this life for free

Running from the greatest evil. . .'

- Wolves by Rag'n'Bone Man


Luna gasped herself into consciousness, sputtering at the assault of bright light as salt stung her lips.

A blurry shape hovered over her, slowly coming into focus.

A man.

Dripping wet, eyes full of unnerving intensity as he gazed down upon her, the hulk of his frame almost enough to block out the sun.

What-

It was then she became aware of the weight on her shoulder, the hand that rested there. Realized with a start the position she was in. The familiarity of it. The danger.

Luna tensed.

How long had she been out?

Reflexively, she checked her clothes, panic rising as she grasped what was missing.

The man noticed. "I'm sorry. That coat was weighing you down far too much. I had to discard it in order to get you back to the boat as quickly as possible." His mouth creased in regret, as though he truly was sorry.

As though he cared.

Luna wouldn't be fooled. She'd fallen for such charades before.

Never again.

(the world was nothing but a nest of vipers - and you didn't trust a viper. No matter how many innocent flowers it hid beneath)

Then the weight of his words fell on Luna and her heart heaved through its next beat, heavy and painful in her chest.

That coat had been a gift from Nyko.

One of the bulkiest, most cumbersome pieces of clothing Luna had ever laid eyes on in her life - and far from fashionable - but it had gone a long way to keeping her warm in the winter.

The memory of who had given it to her had kept her even warmer.

Luna pushed the loss aside, focusing instead on the fact that at least the rest of her clothes still seemed in place. She had no discomfort anywhere besides her head and back. That went a way to reassuring her that nothing else had happened in the time she'd been unconscious.

Releasing a breath, she focused again on the man. Her 'savior'. Who in less than an instant could morph into her captor. Had most likely already done so.

Inwardly, Luna berated herself.

She'd been foolish to take her attention off him even for a moment. Had let her fear get in the way of her training.

As a child, that would have gotten her the smack of a rod, snapping against the underside of her hand - or any other unprotected area it could find.

Luna wasn't a child anymore.

In substitute, she dug her nails into her palms, feeling the give of flesh as she concentrated on the threat before her.

The man didn't look like a Fleimkepa - bore no symbol anywhere that she could see - but looks could be deceiving. Either way, it didn't matter. Fleimkepas weren't the only dangers humanity had to offer. Luna had crossed paths with more than a few people who had threatened her for reasons other than the Flame. Who wanted things from her. Things she could give them. Things she did and didn't have. Things she could do for them. The world was full of people who wished to take. And so many of them wished to take from her.

She'd gotten good at running.

Even better at fighting, though she tried not to resort to it.

Didn't like her chances of accomplishing either now, not with her limbs as heavy and boneless as they felt, fastening her to the wood beneath her back.

Luna wondered what this particular man wanted from her. And whether today would be the day that she finally failed in stopping the taking.

He was bigger than her. Older. Though in any other circumstance that obstacle wouldn't have been insurmountable. These days, everyone Luna fought was bigger and older than her.

If she could determine what clan he was from, what his fighting style might be. . .

The tattoo on his forehead. . . Luna thought she might recognize the symbol, or part of it. But she couldn't. . .

The knowledge eluded her.

She opened her mouth.

"Don't try to speak just yet. Your body's been through a lot. Give it time to rest."

And Luna, who'd always hated taking orders, for some inexplicable reason found herself obeying.

His features relaxed at this and, against her will, she noticed her body following suit. She worked to harden again, balling her hands into fists. Her icy fingers screamed at the action.

They had the chill of death in them.

So close.

The man frowned. "I won't hurt you."

Luna didn't believe him.

Seeming to sense this, he moved back, creating distance. The surface she sprawled upon rocked at the motion and her stomach turned. She pursed her lips to keep from spitting up more of the sea. It felt as though there was a tide in her gut, heaving and crashing. What would it take for it to spill out?

Luna clenched her hands again. Unbound them. Tensed her legs.

If she tried, if she gave it her all, she could fight him.

But what would be the point?

Luna was tired of fighting. Tired of everything.

If he wanted to hurt her, let him.

There was no greater pain he could give to her that she hadn't already felt. That she hadn't already given herself.

Luna exhaled, allowing her muscles to lose all strength. To fade from awareness.

"You're safe."

She was tired. And she just wanted to sleep.

"My name is Derrick."

Luna closed her eyes.

And snapped them open. A cloth suffocated her face, water pouring into her nostrils as she struggled to keep her mouth shut. Lungs burning, she lost the battle, choked, sputtered.

It brought no relief.

Instead, her lungs seemed to splinter, tear apart as the water cut across them.

She coughed in an effort to force it back.

"I cannot take it! If you stop, I'll do it. I'll do it."

The darkness was drawn away, scratchy material departing her skin. The air stung but she basked in it. A hand touched her cheek, soothing the assault.

She knew that hand.

Luna opened her eyes. "Derrick?"

And then she was in the water again, a hand griping her neck, nails biting.

Fire ripped through her chest, cutting a path she couldn't escape.

She struggled, fought, and the hand around her neck tightened.

It hurt.

Hurt as it was never supposed to.

Derrick.

Luna snapped awake, gasping for air that suddenly came in full supply - too full. She chocked, grasping her chest, which still ached with the pain of what should never have come to be.

Opening her eyes, Luna clutched at her necklace as she tried to get her breathing back under control. Darkness was all that met her. Newborn instinct had her scrabbling for the light switch. Too bright. She snapped her eyes shut, flinching.

But that momentary instant had been enough.

The walls were white.

Not daring to open her eyes again just yet, Luna focused on her body, feeling the pressure of the hard surface beneath her. Not metal. Or wood. Fabric, malleable and thick.

A bed.

She exhaled, slowly allowing her eyelids to sheathe once more.

The lab's lights glared down at her but for once Luna welcomed them.

No light like this existed in her past.

It belonged only to the present.

(a place just as terrible as any in the past)

Swallowing, Luna tapped at her chest. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. She halted a moment on the sixth, fingers stuttering before she took a breath and proceeded. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Her heart refused to calm.

Luna started the process again.

On the third try, the pounding in her chest began to slow and with it her breaths.

On the fifth, Luna let her hand fall.

She'd expected the nightmare. After the river, it had seemed almost inevitable.

She'd expected it and sequestered herself away in a bedroom on one of the lower levels of the lab, where no one would hear her scream. It wasn't shame that drove her down but consideration. Luna had no desire to disturb the island's other occupants and steal what little sleep they'd managed to grasp in the night. The walls in the mansion weren't thick enough to protect against her screams. But the only other people in the lab were Abby and Raven and there were more than enough levels to grant space between them and her.

Just as well.

Luna's throat felt raw, a sure sign that there had indeed been screams. For a heartbeat, she ached for Derrick's arms around her, the way he would smooth his hand through her hair, always so careful not to become ensnared in its thick tangles, to hurt. She could almost feel the warmth of his chest under her cheek as she timed her breathing to its every rise and fall, steadying herself - inhale by exhale.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe. The empty space around her too much. The chill in the night air bringing all loss into freezing clarity.

Luna had expected the nightmare.

She hadn't expected the dream.

She hadn't dreamt about that day for a long time. The day Derrick had saved her. The day that had started it all.

Her new life.

Luna wished to the spirits she hadn't. Wished even more the dream hadn't been followed so quickly by the day he'd tried to save her for a second time, and only ended up hurting her instead.

The day she'd had to hurt him. Unforgivably.

Irrevocably.

All because he'd never been able to stand the sight of her in pain.

('I cannot take it!')

All because he'd loved her too much.

Too selflessly.

('If you stop, I'll do it.')

The way she couldn't love her brother.

Luna yanked the covers off. There would be no more sleeping tonight.

The hallways of the lab were garishly lit as always and she squinted against the brightness, making her way towards the lift. Her finger was already pressing the number for Raven's floor before she'd even made the decision. Luna hesitated, hovering over the STOP button.

She didn't want to disturb her.

But there was no reason she had to.

If Raven was awake, she hopefully wouldn't mind the company - and Luna could make sure the mechanic wasn't working herself into an early grave (well, any more than usual). If she was asleep, then Luna would leave her be. Perhaps go outside and get some fresh air. The chill of the night didn't scare her. It was no less unwelcoming than the walls of Bekka Pramheda's lab.

Decided, she let the lift take her up.


Luna was surprised - but not unpleasantly so - to find Raven asleep in her room, rather than hard at work in the lab. Perhaps the day had managed to exhaust her enough that even she hadn't been able to resist the call of slumber.

She leant against the doorway, watching her now - and breathed, timing herself to the steady rise and fall of Raven's chest. It was always a comfort to see that she still breathed. That A.L.I.E. hadn't taken this one person from her yet, not like she had all the others.

Luna trailed a finger over the edges of her necklace. Breathed.

She knew Raven had almost opened up to her last night about her health - or lack thereof. Her impending death sentence. Luna wished she had. If only so then she would finally have leave to comfort her. Support her. Or at the very least attempt to.

Give Raven an ear to listen. If she needed it.

But Luna wouldn't force her to talk about that particular vulnerability before she was ready. There was a reason Raven hadn't told her yet and she would respect that.

Just as Raven had respected her silence about the river. Which she knew had to be difficult, given how curious the mechanic was by nature. Her desire to pick everything apart. Just as long as the thing being picked apart wasn't her.

Luna usually didn't mind. It was nice to talk to Raven, to unearth the pieces of her past with someone who had no frame of reference for their existence. Who appeared to share a similar dismay for all Luna's people had done, continued to do.

That dismay was refreshing.

Validating.

Almost like a balm.

A part of Luna felt like she had been searching for it all her life - that soothing relief - though she'd never known. Never realized.

But the river. . .

Derrick.

Luna couldn't talk about it. Not yet.

Wasn't certain she wouldn't shatter with the words. The proof they lent to all that had happened.

Derrick.

Luna wondered if the same horror she'd felt in the instant he had forced her under the water had been shared by her brother. Perhaps that was the hardest thing of all to come to terms with. That question.

It seeped into the scar of Sol's death, bled through the hardened skin, urged it to open, to split apart.

It might not have been successful if Luna didn't now have the memory of driving a knife into the chest of yet another person she loved. The enduring sensation of their life, cut short by her own hand.

How did you forgive yourself for doing the same thing twice?

Once was a mistake. Horrific. Uncorrectable. But a mistake.

Twice was proof of character. Of heart.

Twice was evidence that there could be a third time. A fourth time. An infinite number of times.

That the ability to kill what she loved had never left her.

Would never leave her.

For an instant, she felt hard leather in her hand, heard the guttural choke and gasp as all air was cut off, saw the sea of blood spurting out-

Luna closed her eyes and waited for the horror to pass.

When she opened them again, Raven was sleeping soundly. Unblemished. Unharmed.

Not a single drop of red in sight.

She was fine.

(Luna hadn't hurt her)

She was fine.

For the moment. . . she was fine.

Luna closed her eyes, inhaling.

One, two. . .

Allowed the air to filter out of her lungs on the ninth beat of her heart.

No. She wouldn't make Raven talk about it. If silence was what made her comfortable then Luna wouldn't tamper with it. Wouldn't crack the seal of her defenses. Force her to bleed out. Raven was the one who was dying and it was her comfort that mattered most.

Acknowledging this didn't make Luna feel any better, though. Or lessen the feeling of powerlessness that surrounded her. It was a feeling she was learning to get used to once again. Hated the familiarity of it.

Her only power at the moment existed in her blood. What she could do with it. What she chose to do with it.

Giving it, not giving it.

Luna touched the inside of her elbow, ignoring the pain this elicited. It was tender tonight. Slightly itchy. Likely a consequence of the day, the physical exhaustion and emotional upset. Stress created pain, heightened it. She knew that from experience.

Frowning, Luna dropped her hand.

She hated having her blood taken. Seeing it. Being reminded of it.

Of what she was.

(to herself and to others)

But that was her choice.

And there was power in that.

Enough to make the process slightly more bearable.

Still, Luna wasn't sure how long she could keep this up. She knew she was walking a dangerous line in regards to her mind. That every day she was pushing herself closer to that edge, trusting that her feet wouldn't slip.

(or perhaps simply praying)

The nightmares, which had started to grow frequent again after Derrick's death - Luna closed her eyes - murder, had become even worse since arriving at Arkadia. The death of her clan combined with the constant reminder of her blood tormented her. She knew that it would continue to do so until she was able to leave the island, leave this aspect of herself behind.

(she needed to leave)

But she didn't want to think about that future, not yet. As much as Luna wanted to escape the island, she knew that if she did so, it could only ever be alone. It could only ever be without Raven. Her one living tether to the world.

Raven, who made breathing easy.

Desirable, even.

Rather than a necessity to be endured.

Luna didn't know just how much time they had left before that 'code' - whatever it was - killed her, but she knew it couldn't be long. Knew that Raven was unlikely to live past Praimfaya, whether she had nightblood in her veins or not.

And if Luna left before Praimfaya - if she gave in to her urge to run . . . Raven would not follow. She would not abandon her people, those who still needed her.

After all, she would not even do so to save her life. Rest, when rest was what she needed most.

It was a fact Luna couldn't turn from. Could only accept.

So she did.

(there was so much she could only accept)

Luna stayed, because she didn't want to be alone.

She stayed because Raven had put down the gun.

And she stayed because a part of her still believed. . .

Still believed in people.

Still believed in the goodness she'd found in her clan. In Derrick. In Adria. In Nyko.

In Raven.

A part of her still believed.

And she'd decided that day on the dock that she wasn't ready to let that part go. Let her heart go.

Not yet.

It had taken her so long to find it again. After her Conclave. To wrestle it back from the darkness and stitch it into the framework of her being.

One day it might tear itself free.

But not today.

Luna left her vigil before dawn. Slipping into the main lab and perching herself up on the table, waiting for the day to begin.

Raven came upon her thirty minutes later, trying and failing to find peace in her early meditations. Luna tried not to think about how that peace came a little easier once she stepped into the room.

It only meant it would be harder to find once she left it.


'Keep the wolves from the door

I hear them scratching like I don't know better

Won't you keep the wolves from the door

It won't be long before I cave in and open up the-'

- Wolves by Rag'n'Bone Man


Pain drew her back into consciousness.

Luna blinked, weakly at first, then more rapidly as she struggled to clear her vision. The sun shone bright, hot. It hovered in its previous position, glaring down in burning judgment.

Luna suspected that either very little time had passed since she'd last opened her eyes - or far too much had.

The stinging on her scalp brought her attention to the sensation of hot stickiness clinging to her skin. She hadn't felt it the first time she woke. Hadn't felt much of anything. But now. . .

Luna stiffened.

The feeling was familiar. She knew what it was. What it meant.

What it had revealed her to be.

Her back hurt as well. As though a thousand stones had scraped it raw, and there, too, she could feel the trickle of hot blood.

Black blood.

Luna closed her eyes, understanding then that her fate had been sealed.

This man may not be a Fleimkepa but it would still be his duty to deliver her to them.

It was over.

Three years. . . and it was over.

There might have been relief in the fact, in the realization that she could finally stop running, if her mind wasn't full of all the fates that might now await her in Polis.

"You're bleeding fairly heavily." Luna's eyes snapped open at the sound of her captor's voice. He was scrutinizing her to an uncomfortable degree, an emotion almost like concern in his eyes - but she knew that concern could only be for losing the prized fish he'd just caught. "I need to tend to that. If you'll let me."

If possible, Luna grew even more rigid.

The frown on his face suggested he hadn't missed the tell. She was being too open, giving too much away. "I don't know what you think my intentions are, but I swear I wish only to help. You're safe. I promise."

Someone else had said that to her once.

He'd lied.

Luna cleared her throat. Coughed. "Nightblood."

The word felt like grit against her tongue. Harsh and unforgiving.

But perhaps that was the salt that had drowned it.

"Yes," he said distractedly, searching for something beside him. "You'll forgive me if I don't stand on ceremony. I don't answer to Polis or its Commander."

Luna closed her eyes. Was it too good to be true?

Yes.

Always yes.

"Nomad?" She couldn't see any obvious mutations but that didn't necessarily mean there weren't any, or that he hadn't found himself without a clan for some other reason.

(her gut twisted in memory, hands fisting at her sides as her heart started to race.

There were very few things that could warrant exile.

And Luna knew them all)

The man - she refused to use his name - considered the word for a moment. "Yes, that fits. But I'm afraid if you wish to return to the Capital, you'll have to find someone else to help you - I don't travel that far inland."

Luna shook her head rapidly, cringing as her vision went momentarily black, skull pounding. "No."

"Shh. . . easy." A hand landed on her arm. She flinched away, coughed. Felt the sea inside her build, threatening to spill forth. "We'll talk about it later. Whatever you wish to do, I'll assist you as far as I can. For now, I just want to help you heal. Will you let me?"

No.

She had no wish to heal. And no wish to let this man aid her in doing so.

But her wishes rarely mattered.

For now, he seemed to be trustworthy, yes. But appearances were deceiving. Luna had accepted help and been bitten for it in the past.

Fool me once. . .

She had nowhere to go, though. And no strength to get there.

(or will)

Saying no, saying yes - what did it matter in the end?

What did she care?

He would do with her what he wanted.

And she could fight that, or she could succumb to it.

Her eyes caught the glint of metal on his belt: a knife.

A possible way out.

If she reached for it.

All she had to do was reach for it.

Luna gave her permission in a nod, settling back and closing her eyes - even as every instinct inside her screamed to leave them open, to remain aware.

On guard.

Luna ignored them.

She was done fighting. Done struggling for a life that had never been meant for her.

For the freedom that had never been meant for her.

That struggle had gained her nothing. Had accumulated in no more than this. Bleeding and defeated. In the hands of yet another person who would seek to use her however they saw fit.

There was no fighting that.

Had never been any fighting that.

(but still she kept the knife in her mind. Just in case.

Knives could be turned in more than one direction.

Could offer more than one freedom.

And she knew which would be more easily obtained.)

Luna closed her eyes and succumbed to the sound of the waves.


A/N:

I do be planning to make a Luna edit to Wolves by Rag'n'Bone Man eventually. It's on my to do list lol.

As as sidenote, the amount of trauma Luna goes through in her life is insane - even by The 100 standards. And I don't think the show really underscores that enough - like it's not brought up at all in s4 how truly horrific it must been to be tortured by someone you love and trust - and then having to kill him. Like waterboarding on its own is an incredibly traumatic - and dangerous - form of torture. But then to have it performed by people you love? So that's definitely not something that I'll be brushing over in this fic

Also I was wondering whether it would be possible for you all to leave a comment each chapter after reading. You don't have to write anything if you're not comfortable but I want to keep track of how many people are still reading this fic and that's the only way I can think off. I'm going to compare it with my yumagna fic so if in the future I ever need to prioritize working on one over the other - due to my health - I can choose the one with the most readers and hopefully disappoint the least amount of people. Though hopefully it won't come to that.

[Next time: Luna, Raven and some green sludge]