Inside, the Ark was quiet save for the soft hum of generators supplying power to the lights since most of Skaikru was outside in the fresh air and Trikru readied their warriors to march.

Clarke took a minute to breathe in the stillness. Since Octavia returned hours ago with the news, her only thoughts had been of Lexa. She was in Polis, completely unaware of the events that would unfold any day now, and if they didn't stop it, she could have her own people at her throat, calling for her blood and her title as Heda of the Thirteen Clans.

Right now, she wished she had listened to Lexa and stayed in Polis instead of returning to her people.

Clarke shook her head. No, if she had stayed, then things would only be worse for Lexa. With Clarke at Arkadia, at least she didn't have to worry about her. Instead, Clarke was the one to worry.

Lexa could handle herself and Clarke knew that, but that didn't stop a knot from forming in her stomach that grew tighter with each passing moment.

Clarke took another breath and picked up an empty metal bowl and cloth from a nearby chair. She filled it with water before entering the recovery bay where Octavia lay. As she approached, she pulled a stool over and began wiping the crusted blood from her face. After the clear water had been stained red, Clarke could finally see the tan skin and freckles beneath the layers of dirt, blood, and inky charcoal. The cut on Octavia's forehead had clotted, leaving a thin line that marred her smooth skin.

Clarke pressed two fingers to her neck and nodded when her pulse thrummed strong and steady, and although her forehead was warm, it seemed as though fever had been warded off.

Good. Clarke needed some good news right now since it seemed that their world might soon delve into darkness.

She sat the bowl of water and cloth on the stool and turned to leave, but a hoarse whisper halted her.

"Clarke?"

She turned. "Hey, Octavia. How are you feeling?"

Octavia blinked, throat bobbing. Instead of answering she said, "Did Lincoln return?"

Clarke nodded. "Yes. He's fine. He was in here for some time while you were sleeping."

"I want to see him." Octavia groaned in an attempt to sit up, but Clarke halted her with a hand.

"I will get him. You lay down. Apart from the serious wound you sustained, you lost a lot of blood. Thankfully, Bellamy donated some of his."

Octavia's expression softened. "He did?"

Clarke nodded. "Of course. You're his sister. His first and only thoughts were about helping you."

Octavia's throat bobbed as she stared at the ceiling. After a moment, a small tear slipped down her cheek. "I was so cruel to him," she whispered. "He's only ever looked out for me, and I was selfish and stupid."

Clarke sat down again and took Octavia's hand in hers. "Bellamy loves you. There's nothing you can do to keep him from looking out for you."

"I was so angry with him. So angry he would try and make my decisions for me. Tell me I'm not capable." She took a small, shaky breath. "I'm still angry at him, but I don't think I could ever hate him. Not really. He's my brother." Octavia glanced at Clarke and shook her head. "I didn't deserve it."

Clarke knew what she meant. "Yes, you did. You deserve your life. Even if you didn't deserve to live, that wouldn't be your choice to make. I wouldn't let you die. I would have strapped Bellamy down to get his blood even if he hated me for the rest of his life. My job is to save lives, not decide whether the person deserves it or not."

A small grin appeared at that. "Thank you, Clarke."

"Of course. Now," Clarke said, "you need to stay put. If I come back and you're doing anything besides laying here breathing, I will kick your ass."

Octavia gave a weak salute. "Yes, ma'am."

Clarke stood to leave, but at the recovery bay door, she paused and said, "We'd all be lost without you, Octavia. I hope one day you can see that."

A slight nod was her only confirmation.

Outside, Trikru were gathering, and Indra's voice rose above the hum of the camp as she called commands and gave orders. Despite the fact darkness had fallen hours ago, the camp still buzzed with energy under the lights of the Ark. There was too much to do to sleep.

Clarke's thoughts wandered to Lexa again, but she shook her head and forced herself to think about something else. She instead searched for Bellamy. She found him speaking to Lincoln outside the Chancellor's tent.

"Octavia is awake," she said as a greeting.

Both male's faces dissolved into something Clarke would describe as relief.

"How is she?" Bellamy said.

"Much better. The hard part now is keeping her down."

Lincoln chuckled, but it was weak. "I doubt anyone could keep her down, even if it was for her own good."

Clarke shrugged. "She's stubborn like that." She glanced at Bellamy. "I wonder who she got that from?" He rolled his eyes. "Come," she said, nodding the boys toward the Ark. "I have to bring her some water."

She renewed her bowl with fresh water after dumping out the bloody and then filled a small tin cup. The boys trailed her, neither speaking in the quiet hallways.

When Clarke entered, Octavia's attention turned to the three of them and her eyes widened. "Lincoln," she croaked, reaching for him.

The warrior brushed past Clarke and fell to his knees at Octavia's bedside, eagerly grasping her outstretched hand. He kissed the back of her dirty, bloodied hand, and whispered something that made Octavia nod. A small smile appeared, which was a rare sight on Octavia.

Bellamy paused at Clarke's side. As he watched, his weight shifted between his good and bad leg. It was subtle, but Clarke noticed. She glanced up at him. His jaw muscles tightened as he seemed to consider whether he should approach at all.

Then, Octavia's gaze landed on them. Her throat bobbed. "Thank you, Bel," she whispered. "Clarke said what you did for me. Thank you."

All the tension in Bellamy's shoulders seemed to dissipate. He nodded. "I'm glad I could help."

Clarke leveled a stare at Lincoln. "A few minutes. Then Octavia needs to rest." Octavia opened her mouth, but Clarke raised a hand. "I already told you that if I return at any point and you're doing anything other than breathing, I will kick your ass. Got it?"

Bellamy shot her a stunned look.

Octavia rolled her eyes but nodded. "Yes, mother."

"Good." Clarke turned to Bellamy. "Are you good to help me start packing?"

"Of course."

She motioned him back into the hallway and down toward the sleeping quarters, leaving Lincoln and Octavia alone.

At her bunk, Clarke grabbed her pack and began stuffing a few different pieces of clothes, a pistol, knife, and radio into it. Bellamy leaned on the doorway, and she could feel his eyes on her.

Clarke turned, bag in hand.

Bellamy stood on his good leg, his injured one crossed over an ankle with no weight bearing upon it.

"You shouldn't be the one to go," Clarke said softly, staring up at him. "You're still injured. I'd be sending you into a war camp hindered."

Bellamy folded his arms and chuckled. "I'm fine, Princess." Clarke cocked her head and then pressed a thumb into Bellamy's thigh, drawing out a sharp breath from him. "Damn it, Clarke," he hissed, yanking away from her and nearly tumbling into the hallway.

"You're not fine," she said. "You shouldn't go."

He ran a hand through his dark curls, jaw muscles feathering. He took a breath. "You promised."

"I did no such thing."

"You said I could."

"That's different than promising."

"Clarke," Bellamy hissed, limping toward her, his hands outstretched, "please. I need to do this. I can't sit on the sidelines. I'm not asking to go into battle. I'm asking to spy. If I do it right, then I shouldn't even need to use a weapon. I'd be screwed out there with the Trikru warriors."

"You won't be much better off sneaking around an Azgeda camp, either!" Clarke whispered loudly.

He grasped Clarke's arm, though the grip he applied wasn't hard enough to hurt. "You sent me into Mount Weather. You trusted that I could get our people out, and I did."

He'd said the same thing only a few minutes prior, but that didn't make his words any less true.

He had saved their people.

And then she had killed hundreds of Mountain people to save the remainder of the Sky People still trapped inside. She'd irradiated over three hundred men, women, and children. All to save 46 of her own.

She still saw Maya's face. Still wished she could have saved everyone because there were only about a dozen people under the mountain who deserved to die, and they hadn't even died because of the irradiated air. In fact, Emerson was probably still out there.

The only thing that gave Clarke any semblance of peace of mind was that she was able to save most of Skaikru and Trikru after the missiles launched from Mount Weather. She'd been with Lexa at the time, and Bellamy had warned them about the incoming attack just in time to start evacuating.

Bellamy had saved hundreds of people and stopped Dr. Tsing along with almost a dozen guards. He'd done well that day.

And Clarke felt like she should have been able to do more.

They'd just reached Tondc and yelled out the first warning when the missiles launched. It was a miracle that the first missile hit vacant ground. But the second hit the outskirts of the village closest to Clarke and Lexa.

Clarke touched a hand to her side, the scar beneath her jacket evoking the memories of that day. She'd woken up buried beneath the rubble of Tondc's village statue and its surrounding columns with Lexa whispering her name.

Her eyes opened to dust and darkness, giant pieces of marble above and broken earth below. Pain shoved its way to the front of her consciousness as fire spread through her torso.

"Clarke," a voice said. The tone was firm, but fear laced the words.

She knew that voice. "Lexa," she breathed. She made to move, but a jagged pain shot through her left wrist and she hissed, collapsing back onto the cool dirt.

"Don't move," Lexa said, her silhouette shifting in the dark. "A metal rebar from one of the columns impaled you. It went straight through."

Clarke searched blindly with her right hand and her fingertips met cold, hard metal. Sure enough, as she followed it lower, she made contact with her own flesh. Torn, bloodied flesh. She took a breath. "Good."

"Good? How the hell is that good?"

"There's less of a chance for infection to set in." She moaned when her next breath flooded her abdomen with pain.

"Clarke, I don't know what to do," Lexa whispered. It was unusual for the Heda to be unnerved.

Clarke clenched her teeth. "Go...go get help."

"I can't, Clarke. My leg is trapped beneath debris. I can only just reach you."

"Damn it," Clarke exhaled, closing her eyes. She did her best to feel how badly she was bleeding out, but in the dark, she couldn't be completely sure. It seemed like the rebar was staunching most of it, but she knew she was still losing blood. She could feel it as cold crept in.

Clarke shifted, and as a wave of piercing pain lanced through her, she realized she was pinned to the earth like an arrow in a tree. If she tried to pull the rebar out, she'd fill her insides with dirt, rocks, and more bacteria than what already lay on the metal.

"Shit," she hissed.

The slightest bit of desperation filled Lexa's voice as she asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm pinned. The rebar went through me and into the ground."

Metal scraping filled the darkness.

Clarke lifted her head. "What are you doing?"

"Using my knife as a wedge to hopefully free my leg."

"Lexa—"

"I'm making progress." A couple minutes passed with just the sharp sound of metal against rock before Lexa inhaled and then let out a long groan. She sounded like she was pulling herself out. Then, "I'm free."

"Good."

Lexa crawled over to her side, and she brought with it the smell of blood. Fresh blood unlike what already filled Clarke's nose from her torso.

"What did you do?" Clarke tried to see, but nothing was visible.

"I sliced into my thigh."

Clarke gaped. "You were using your thigh as an anchor point?"

Lexa huffed. "I knew the risks, Clarke." Just past her head, the Heda began shifting debris until a sliver of pale light broke through the dark. "It was either that or both of us stay trapped here and die."

"We are not dying today," Clarke muttered.

Lexa almost laughed. "My spirit would choose the next Commander wisely, Clarke. You don't need to worry."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I don't doubt that, but I need your spirit where it is, Lexa. The world has already gone to hell. I don't need the position of Commander for the Thirteen Clans up for grabs with almost half the clans of the Coalition against Skaikru becoming the thirteenth."

"As long as I am Heda, Skaikru ispart of Kongeda."

Clarke sighed. "I don't want to know what would happen if Azgeda ever came to power.'

Lexa gave her a dull stare. "Skaikru would be wiped off the map. Roan would ensure it."

"And why doesn't he act now?"

"Because his life is indebted to me. Not to mention moving against a clan of Kongeda is treason. Roan might as well hold a knife to my throat." She shifted more rocks and chunks of marble for enough light to stream in so Clarke could see just how badly Lexa had gouged her thigh.

She reached a hand out, but even that little bit of movement sent her vision swimming. "You need to bind that." Lexa paused and then waved her hand away. "Now, Lexa," Clarke commanded.

The Heda huffed but conceded. She ripped off a strip of her hood, wrapped it tightly over the gash, and tied it tight until Clarke said it was good enough. Then she continued her dig.

Lexa managed to stick her arm through and broke a hole big enough to shout, "Indra! Beja, sis osir au!"

As soon as she yelled, a sickening crack echoed over their heads.

Clarke grimaced, reaching for Lexa. "Get down!"

Their little bit of light disappeared as chunks of debris shifted and descended upon them.

"Clarke."

A nudge on the shoulder broke Clarke from her thoughts. She glanced up at Bellamy. "What?"

Concern lit his eyes. He nodded at the hand she had over her scar. "Does it still hurt?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. She shook her head. "Sorry. I was thinking."

"What about?"

Lexa, she wanted to say. Instead, she said, "The Coalition. Azgeda. How we're going to stop this war." Clarke remembered what Lexa had said that day trapped under rock. Moving against a clan of the Kongeda was treason. Roan might as well hold a knife to her throat. If he attempted to take control using force, he'd not only be dishonored, but he'd also ensure his execution along with his people.

So how could Azgeda start a civil war, blame it on the Heda, and guarantee a Conclave for a new Commander without killing Lexa?

The pieces snapped into place.

That's how Azgeda would get rid of the Heda without a mutiny. Roan didn't need to threaten Lexa directly. He'd use the clans. Lexa's clan.

Clarke gaped at Bellamy. "Roan is going to try and frame Trikru."