Price of salvation

Chapter 5: The best deal there is

Clarke didn't want to say it, but she was currently a part of the best deal there was.

She didn't like admitting it to herself at all. But she knew it was the truth.

Her eyes went to the floor, not wishing to look at any of her mates, not wishing to think about this. But her mind unwillingly went back to years ago, when she had first felt this connection she had with her mates.

Fifteen years ago:

Clarke was seven years old, every time she thought of her daddy, Jake, she started crying, so she had settled for desperately drawing her crayons against a piece of paper on the table, as her mommy went out to speak with whoever had just arrived at the camp.

Callie and Wells were with Clarke, watching Clarke worried.

Clarke then froze, no longer drawing, when the doors of the cars that had driven up to the camp opened, because she felt something.

It was weird, she wasn't sure she'd be able to describe it even if she wanted to. It was like that there was some sort of electric current that hit her and it was coming from outside.

Putting the crayons down, Clarke got up from the couch where she sat, turning to look at the metal walls to the door and the glossy windows that looked out over the front yard of the camp.

"Clarke?" She barely heard Wells say her name.

Clarke, almost against her will, walked away from Callie and Wells, going to the door.

The feeling she felt, it was very strong now. She reached her right hand out and placed it on the long piece of rectangular glass separating her and the front yard of the camp.

She saw several figures stepping out of the cars that had driven up and those figures were standing in front of Clarke's mommies.

Clarke wasn't sure she understood. But she wanted to get to the people outside.

Callie stood up and walked over to where the small seven-year-old was. "Clarke?" She said, "What's wrong, honey?"

Clarke pointed at the window, pointing at the figures outside, speaking with her mommy.

"Outside?" Callie asked, "You want something outside?"

Clarke nodded, reaching for the handle of the door, but Callie pressed her hand against the door, keeping it closed even before Clarke could start getting it open.

"Clarke, sweetie," Callie said, "Your mommy says that we're to stay here until she's done speaking with whoever she's speaking with."

Clarke whimpered in frustration, going back to staring outside, not comprehending.

"It's okay, Clarke,' Callie assured the girl, "Your mommy will be okay."

Clarke shook her head. "It's not my mommy," she said, her voice practically pleading, "It's them." She didn't know how to articulate what she wanted to articulate.

Clarke then heard a gasp as Callie said, "Them?"

Clarke looked up at Callie, confused, and Clarke saw a look on Callie's face, as if the woman had just realized something.

Callie looked out the window, then back at Clarke. "Really?" Callie said, her eyes wide, "It's them?"

Callie then shook her head. "Okay, sweetie," she said, "If you're saying what I think you are? Then I had better not let you outside. It's not the right time yet. You're too young."

Clarke didn't understand what Callie meant by that, she just knew that she wanted to get outside and get to the people that were making her feeling this strong electrical feeling.

"Please," Clarke whimpered.

Callie shook her head. "No," she said, "You can go to them when you're older. But not now."

Clarke smacked her hand against the window. She didn't want to wait. But she knew there was nothing she could do.

"How much older do I have to be?" She whined, hating how her voice sounded.

"In several years," Callie said, "When you're an adult. At least eighteen or nineteen or older."

Clarke tried to fight her tears at that. When she was eighteen or nineteen? That would take so long!

Callie said, her voice soft, "Clarke, honey, I promise, the years will go by fast."

Clarke wasn't listening though. All she knew right now, was that there were people outside who she desperately wanted to see, and she wasn't being allowed to see them.

Clarke turned and glared at Callie. Even as she said her words, she knew she didn't mean them and knew that she'd be sorry for them soon after saying them, but still, she said them, glaring at Callie, "I hate you."

Clarke watched as Callie flinched at the words, and looked away, but still, Callie didn't move from the door.

Clarke felt sorry almost as soon as she said those words, but soon afterwards, she felt that feeling that was stirring so strongly in her begin to fade and she turned to look out the window.

The people were leaving. They were getting into their cars and driving away.

Clarke cried out, upset, smacking her hands again against the window, but she knew that that would do nothing.

If nothing else, she had hoped to catch the attention of the people outside, hoping that they would come and get her.

But the cars drove away and Clarke sniffled, "No…."

She then mumbled, "I was making a lot of noise. Why didn't they come to get me?"

Callie then said something that at the time, Clarke didn't understand. She said, "I actually think they did come to get you."

Clarke hadn't understood what Callie meant by that at all. Because if these people had in fact, come to get her, why hadn't they opened the door to the camp's building?

Why hadn't they taken her with them like she'd wanted?

Abby began walking back to the building.

It would be fifteen years until Clarke understood what exactly had transpired that day.

Present day, fifteen years later:

Clarke turned her eyes to her mates in the room and glared at them again.

She had all but managed to push that memory into the back of her brain, convincing herself that it was just a dream or an odd memory that she hadn't understood the implications of.

Now, the second of those options that she'd told herself, obviously was the reality.

However, she hadn't understood that at the time.

But the older she got and the more she'd thought about the memory, along with her feeling like Abby was getting her prepared for something? The more she had begun to question that memory or dream she'd had before, and analyze it more closely.

The more she'd thought of it, the more she'd had to question herself if she really had dreamed it up or had imagined it.

Had what she'd felt when those figures had emerged from their cars, really been in her head? Had it all been a fabrication.

Of course, now she knew the truth.

And some part of her wished she could be angrier about knowing the truth.

Well, she was angry about one thing. Abby and Callie? They'd known. They'd known the whole time and had told her nothing.

Thinking now about Callie's reactions when Clarke had tried to get outside to her mates when she was seven, Clarke knew now that Callie had to have known.

She recalled the comprehension filling Callie's face when she understood why Clarke had been trying to get outside.

Callie knew. Of course, she fucking knew.

Clarke hadn't known-at least, not on an intellectual level. On an instinct level, when she was seven? She had known. She had sensed it.

But she hadn't understood what she had sensed. Not at the time.

She said quietly, staring at her mates, "I should fucking hate you."

Just like with Callie, Clarke's mates who were present, winced, appearing to be in pain.

Clarke sighed, wishing she didn't feel bad about what she had just said.

She didn't hate them. She wished she could. But she didn't. No more than she had hated Callie all those years ago when she had said those cruel words to Callie when Clarke had been seven.

Clarke sighed, "Look….I just need some time. I get that I don't have a choice here. I need some time. Can you let me have that?"

She watched her mates, and Natasha, Peggy, Pepper and Bruce all nodded.

Tony looked like Clarke had hit him repeatedly, but begrudgingly, nodded.

Jessica's jaw had tightened at Clarke's words before about wishing she could hate them, but she also nodded.

Clarke said quietly under her breath, "Thank you."

"Do you want us to leave?" Bruce asked, sounding like he didn't want to leave, "We can give you and Finn some time alone."

Clarke nodded. "I guess," she said.

She heard a few sighs, and she looked up, watching her mates leave the room.

Clarke tried not to cringe. She hated that she felt pain over what she had said to them.

They didn't deserve sympathy after what they had done. But she felt guilt instantly.

After Clarke's mates left, Finn looked at her and said, "Clarke, I'm not sure that was a good idea."

"They won't hurt you," Clarke said to him, "Because they know hurting you would hurt me."

Finn shook his head. "I don't mean that," he said, "I mean…look, I might not trust them too much? But from what I've heard? It sounds like you have a good deal here. I'm not saying this because I want you to marry to keep the rest of the Ark people safe. Clarke, you know that I can't stand the rest of the Ark people. They're assholes, absolute assholes. But it sounds like you have everything good going for you by being here with them. It sounds like they're literally are willing to give you everything."

Clarke snapped, "Do you think I don't know that?! I know! It's just…I didn't have a choice, Finn. I didn't have a choice. No one told me until I was twenty-two. And during all this time, people were planning behind my back?"

Finn's eyes widened as he understood. He nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly, "Okay, yeah. You got a point."

Clarke snorted quietly, but said nothing.

From where they were watching the monitors, the group leaned back against their seats, having heard Clarke said what she'd said to Finn just now.

"You heard that, right?" Steve said, looking to Bruce, Jessica, Tony, Pepper, Natasha and Peggy, who had just come in.

"Yeah," Jessica said, anger against herself in her tone, "I can't fucking blame her."

Tony also looked remorseful, but said, "She'll come around. She'll come around at some point."

Steve sighed, looking back at the screen.

He believed that too.

But in the meantime?

Clarke would be extremely resentful of them.

A few hours went by.

Clarke and Finn were spending time together, exploring the various rooms of the place where they were now living, they would watch TV on the streaming services, they'd get some drinks.

More food was brought out to them and they ate and drank water, the alcohol losing its affect gradually.

When it was nighttime, Frank and Maria went into the main room where Clarke and Finn were, to see if they needed anything.

Clarke was seated on the couch, across from Finn, who was in an easy chair, and when Frank and Maria came in, Clarke tensed, but said nothing until after Frank and Maria had asked them if they needed anything.

Clarke had managed to get her voice to sound not so angry when she told them she was fine.

Finn answered the same.

Both older adults nodded and began to leave. After Maria was out of the room, Frank sent Clarke a saddened look, then left.

Clarke's jaw tightened, not wanting to let any of her mates get to her.

Clarke and Finn later had dinner, then a few hours later, they headed to bed.

Finn's room was a guest room a few feet away from Clarke's room.

Clarke went under the covers after she'd gotten ready for bed, and laid down against the mattress, trying not to think about her mates.

It wasn't just how guilty she felt about treating them the way she'd been treating them, when again, she knew that this was basically the best deal she could be offered, it was…..something else.

Something much more treacherous.

The sight of them? How some part of her wanted them?

Clarke hated that she knew that some part of her wanted them, even if she was afraid of them, even if she was angry at them.

Currently, she was thinking about Frank. Thinking about his mouth between her legs, thinking about how hard he'd fuck her.

She tried to push that thought away, but of course, she started thinking about the others, too.

About Maria and Tony's fingers. About Jessica, Natasha and Wanda's mouths. About Bruce, Elektra, Peggy and Sam's hands.

Clarke grunted, feeling warmth spread down to her stomach and groin.

She didn't want to think about this. These people had made a choice for her when she was only seven years old.

And a bunch of them were several decades older than her.

Hell, Frank she was positive, was old enough to be her father.

Clarke shuddered when she found that that thought didn't turn her off from wanting Frank.

If anything? That seemed to make her more excited.

"Fuck," Clarke mumbled, "You gotta be fucking kidding me."

Still, she reached between her legs, pressed the palm of her hand against the thin fabric covering her cunt, and began to grind her hand against her clit, imagining Frank reaching between her legs and fingering her, about him pinning her to this bed, spreading her legs and eating her out, even as she screamed for him to stop, about him unbuckling his belt, pushing his pants down just a little, then entering her hard and fast.

Clarke began to gasp against the mattress as she rocked her hips into her hand.

It didn't take long for her to cum.

The next morning, Clarke tried not to think about what she'd done the previous night. Tried not to think about how she'd been fantasizing about her mates.

She was supposed to be angry at them. She was supposed to be giving them the cold treatment.

But Finn eyed her as they ate breakfast.

"Everything alright?" He asked.

Clarke snorted, "Not really sure."

Some of Clarke's mates came by.

It was Danny, Luke, Carol and Brunnhilde.

Clarke tried not to look at them too much.

They asked if Clarke or Finn needed anything-needless to say, they cared way more about if Clarke needed anything than they did Finn.

Clarke and Finn both assured them that they were both fine.

Clarke's mates nodded and left.

Clarke stared at her plate of eggs, trying not to pay attention to the feeling of her four present mates' eyes on her, as they left the room.

Before she left, Brunnhilde assured Clarke that they'd be going out to bring Callie, Wells, Harper, Fox, Monroe, Sterling and Roma here soon.

Clarke just gave a nod, as Brunnhilde left.

Finn sighed, "Clarke, seriously, they're trying."

Clarke wanted to be angry at Finn now. But mainly? Because she knew he was right.

In a world like this, where there were negotiations and people were forced to marry each other all the time for political reasons? Clarke had gotten a really damn fucking good deal.

She was to be married to a group of people who were completely devoted to her, who had more or less challenged the world to keep her safe, who were giving her as much space as she needed, who wanted her to have everything-and the one thing they just couldn't give her, was total and complete freedom.

Still, she ate, ignoring Finn's words.

But she also knew she was fighting a losing battle. At least, where her sex drive was concerned.

When it was nearly bedtime, and Finn went to his room, Clarke stood up and walked to the door to her room and she saw the camera there, aimed at this part of the hallway and she was certain that there was sound on that camera as well as footage, she said, sighing, "Frank? Frank, could you come to my room? Please?"

She then opened the door to her room, and went inside, closing the door after she did.

In the control room, Clarke's mates looked at each other, startled, after hearing that.

"Holy shit," Tony said, a laugh in his throat as he looked at Frank, "Lucky bastard."

Frank didn't even respond to Tony's lewd comment, as he stared at the screen that showed where Clarke had disappeared into her room.

She…..she really wanted him there?

Frank tried not to think about it. This could mean anything. She could want him there just to yell at him, or to get information from him.

But he tried not to think too much about the other possibility. Sure, theoretically, when someone, much less your romantic soulmate demanded your presence in their private room, what was the understandable assumption?

However, Frank decided not to pursue that line of thought.

He was going to go to Clarke's room at her request, and not expect anything from her.

As he began to move to the door to head to the hall where Clarke's room was, he ignored Natasha's comment about him needing to bring condoms and lube with him. He could practically sense Natasha's lecherous grin when she said that.

They all knew that technically speaking, Clarke wouldn't need the former of those two items.

Clarke's implant from the Ark likely was still in her, so, there was no need to worry about pregnancy, even if all of the men in this group took turns fucking her without condoms.

And all of them had gotten themselves checked out at the doctor's. None of them were carrying anything. Clarke wouldn't catch any infection from them. Lube, however, might be a concern.

He left the main room, ignoring the snickering behind him and went down the hall to Clarke's room, lifting his right fist, and hesitated, but then shook his head, knocking on the door and waited.

He felt ridiculous. He was almost fifty, he was a hardened killer and warrior, he'd literally lost his family and had been shot in the head and had survived, and here he was, feeling awkward about knocking on his young mate's door, as if he were a teenage boy about to ask his crush out on a date, and scared of her rejection.

There were a few moments of silence and Frank suddenly wondered if Clarke either had fallen asleep or if she had asked him here just to not answer the door, essentially teasing him.

As much as he disliked the second thought, he couldn't say he blamed Clarke at all if that was the case.

However, a few seconds later, the door was opened.

Frank looked at where Clarke was standing.

Clarke was barefoot against the carpet, her the long cuffs of her pants, almost swallowing her feet.

Frank would have snickered at how adorable that was, if he wasn't focused on trying to read Clarke's face, trying to understand what she wanted.

Clarke eyed him, as if she too were unsure of why she had asked him to be here. She then moved back from the doorway and said, "Come in, please."

Frank nodded and walked through the doorway. Clarke slowly closed the door when he was inside.

Clarke went to the bed and sat on it, bringing her knees up to her chest, watching Frank as she rested her head against her knees.

Frank waited. He realized that Clarke was trying to figure out what to do next.

She was trying to decide if it was a good idea that she'd asked him to come here or not.

She was trying to decide if she should tell him to get out, or if she should tell him to come over to the bed and fuck her.

Frank did what he needed to do, and stayed where he was, waiting for her decision.

Either decision? He wouldn't blame her.

"Frank?" Clarke said finally, lifting her head up from her knees.

"Yeah, Clarke?" Frank said, not mentioning the pet name he wanted to give her, "baby girl."

He was wisely not going to mention those possible words until Clarke deemed it alright.

"I….," Clarke took a breath as she said, "You and the others…outside of outright letting me go, you'd do whatever I said, right?"

Frank chuckled, as he said, "Well, unless you tell us to kill each other or wipe out some village that hadn't attacked the Ark, then yes."

Clarke let out a small chuckle of her own at that as she nodded.

"Alright," she said, "So…if I told you that I wanted you to come over here, take my clothes off and fuck my brains out, would you?"

Frank almost faltered, startled.

Yes, he'd understood that of the two options, one of them was Clarke telling him that she wanted him to fuck her, but he hadn't expected her to actually say something like that.

Here he was, in a simple black T-shirt, blue jeans, barefoot himself, since almost every floor around here had carpets, and Clarke wanted him to…..

He, more stunned than anything else, walked over to the bed.

He knew he was way too old to not acknowledge when something was real or not, but he vaguely wondered if he was dreaming.

He stopped in front of the bed, waiting for Clarke to make her move.

Yes, Clarke was making it pretty damn clear what she wanted, but still, he wanted her to be absolutely sure about this.

Clarke looked up at the man standing over her and wondered why he wasn't reaching for her.

Wasn't this what he wanted? What all her mates wanted? She'd seen how they had looked at her.

She hadn't been imagining that.

She could see the desire in Frank's eyes, but he was hesitating.

And that's when Clarke understood.

He was waiting for her. If he was going to fuck the shit out of her? She was the one that needed to make the first move.

Now, granted, Clarke felt like she already had, but fine.

Clarke lifted herself up from the bed a bit, and leaned up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissed his mouth, opening her mouth for him, and moaned when she felt his tongue dart inside, stroking her tongue, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and began to push her further onto the bed.

Clarke smiled into the kiss when she felt Frank begin to lift up her shirt.

Well, it looked like Frank got the message.