AN: Hey guys! I'm finally back with a new chapter! I'm so, so sorry it took so long! Real life has been busy for me. But as I've mentioned before, unless I tell you otherwise, I will keep working on this story, even if the chapters are sporadic at best.

I hope everyone is staying healthy in these chaotic times! If you are stuck at home, I hope this gives you something to read!

Chapter 29

The Ark

Dr. Griffin had given Liam a private room separate from the rest of the medical bay. The whispers and gawking stares that had followed him all the way there made him grateful for the separation. He didn't want to face the questions, not when he didn't know how to answer them.

His thoughts were distant; going everywhere and nowhere at once. What happened? How did I end up in a coma? Where was - he squinted as Dr. Griffin flashed a penlight in front of his left eye, then his right.

He remembered her. As a kid he'd had plenty of encounters with the Arks only doctor. As the son of a Council member, there had been pressure for him to be well-behaved; and so, he did the opposite. He'd been wild and adventurous, doing everything his father told him not to. There had been plenty of sprains, broken bones and stitches that had needed her attention. Although he liked to believe that most instances had been no fault of his own. A gash on his knee when Nate had tripped him up the stairwell, Nate's broken wrist after jumping from the second floor railing, the time Al -

Dr. Griffin hummed as she turned to type her findings into the datapad next to her.

She looks older than I remember, he thought, noting the dark circles and deep etches around her eyes. She looked exhausted. Maybe it's because she's now a criminal? I can't imagine she would get much sleep in the Skybox. He'd overhead his father ordering a guard about having her released to check him over. How their doctor had become a criminal was beyond him. I guess a lot can change in two years.

Not for the first time, the thought sent a jolt through him and he gritted his teeth.

Two years... has it really been two years?

It was something that he couldn't wrap his head around. How was it possible to wake up, two years gone? It felt like some sick joke, one he kept expecting the punchline of, except no one was laughing. The only thing that told him it was the truth was that everything was different. He was different: his body was weak and thin, his muscles faded from disuse. His hair was longer than he'd ever kept it. And when he thought back, all he remembered were brief flashes of movement, colour and feelings that he couldn't make sense of.

What made everything worse was that no one was telling him anything! Any time he'd asked about it, their gazes would shift away and they would change the topic. Jackson had already told him he'd been attacked, but if he asked for more information, he was met with uncomfortable silence.

But it was his father's aversion to the topic that worried him the most. He had never been one to keep things from him, not when it involved him. Why won't he say anything?

His father stood not far from him, one arm crossed across his middle, his other rubbing his chin distractedly. His normally slicked back hair had loosened up, making him the most disheveled he'd seen his father in a long time. He watched Liam like a hawk, staring at him as if he couldn't quite believe he was actually there. He smiled as he caught Liam's gaze.

Liam wanted to smile back, but found his gaze falling away instead, frustrated at his father's silence.

C'mon, think! Think! What were you doing last? The memories were fuzzy at best. The only thing that stood out to him was the sickening feeling that came with the blurred memories.

The pounding of footfalls chasing him down the hall...I was...running? From who? Why? But when Alex's angry grey eyes flashed through his mind, his head gave a sharp pulse in response. He winced, half bringing up a hand to his head but aborted the motion when Dr. Griffin turned back to him. He didn't want her thinking there was anything wrong with him.

Nothing else wrong with him.

Alex was there...but why was she so angry?

It was the one thing that he could remember, and it puzzled him. Sure, he and Alex had had their fair share of arguments over the years, but not once had she looked at him that way. That had been a look she reserved for her caretaker after a particularly bad day... when the old bag had given her another verbal lashing, another bruise.

He sighed. None of it made any sense.

Dr. Griffin eyed him for a moment, before shaking her head as if he were some miracle she couldn't explain. But the small smile she gave him was the one that everyone seemed to use when they looked at him - pitying. "Well, Liam, your preliminary exam looks good. Your reactions are normal, if a little weak. But your strength should return once we get you up and moving. A little food would do you some good as well. It'll help you get back some weight." Her hand was warm as she placed it on his shoulder. "Of course, we'll need to do some scans to check for any remaining damage, but I think, for now, we can count our blessings."

"What about my memories?" Liam asked her, leaping at the opportunity to ask his own questions. "Will they come back?"

Dr. Griffin paused, giving him a serious look. But Liam didn't miss the quick glance she shared with his father.

"It's hard to say at this stage," she hesitated, pursing her lips. "There are plenty of things we don't know. And without more tests it's difficult to say. Your memories up until the attack seem quite good. It's just the attack that seems to be fuzzy. And that could be perfectly normal." She gave him a sympathetic look. "It's called dissociative amnesia. You experienced a traumatic event and a traumatic injury. It's normal for your mind to try to protect itself, to lock those memories away. They may come back on their own. They may not. But there's no sense in pushing it." She shot his father a pointed glance.

After a second, his father blinked, as if realizing Dr. Griffin was talking to him. He nodded. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Dr. Griffin." His words seemed stilted, as if he had to force them out. Their interaction was further evidence that there was something going on between them. To say things were tense would be an understatement.

And there they were again. Talking vague enough for him not to understand. A bitter feeling of frustration filled him. They knew more than they were letting on - they knew exactly what had happened to him.

Gray eyes turned to glare at his father.

"Dad, I need to know what happened," he said, trying not to sound like the whiny kid he felt like. It helped that his voice had deepened while he'd slept.

His father eyed him before turning away for the first time since he'd woken up, running a hand over his face with a deep sigh. Liam could see the tick in his jaw, a telltale sign that something wasn't sitting right with him.

Sensing the tension, Dr. Griffin moved away to give them some privacy.

Liam swallowed before continuing, "Dad, look, I'm going to find out eventually. I might even remember. But at the very least someone is going to tell me the truth whether you want it or not." When Marcus didn't turn back to him immediately, Liam pleaded, "C'mon Dad, I need to know."

"Okay. Okay." Marcus sighed again and turned back towards him, making his way over. He leaned against the bed next to where Liam sat. "First things first, you have to understand that we don't have all the details on what happened that day." His father finally turned to meet his gaze. "But what we do know is that two years ago, you and two others were attacked."

Liam frowned. "Two others?" That was something that he hadn't known. "How? By who?"

Although his father opened his mouth to reply, he hesitated before answering. "Liam ...it was Alex. She did it."

For a long moment his words didn't register. Liam stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying. Did what? What did Alex do?

Understanding dawned on him slowly.

Liam shook his head before he was aware he was doing it, looking for any sign that this was some type of sick joke. But his father's somber eyes stared back at him firmly, refusing to back down from this.

It was Alex. The words echoed loudly in his head.

A flash of Alex's angry face crossed his mind again and she shouted: "Did you know?!"

Know what, Alex? Why were you so angry? He'd never seen her so furious in his life. But at the same time, there was some other emotion on her face, in her voice. There were tears in her eyes. She was angry. Hurting. Could you really have done this?

No. No. You wouldn't. The certainty in his gut that told him that couldn't have been her. He shook his head again, this time more firmly. "No, that's not possible."

His father's expression shuttered momentarily, looking pained before stepping in front of him with sympathetic eyes. "Liam, I know you don't want to hear this. I know you and Alex were good friends-"

"Good friends?" he said, staring at his father in disbelief. "She's my best friend! She wouldn't do something like this! You know her, she wouldn't do something like this!"

Something in his father snapped. "But she did!" he shouted, whirling away from him. Liam jumped at his raised voice. There was an emotion on his face that Liam didn't recognize. His father never raised his voice at him. Not like this. His father barreled on. "She cornered you in an abandoned maintenance hallway and she stabbed you! Twice! And when she was caught by the two guards on patrol, she killed them, Liam! Do you understand that? She killed them! And it could have been you!" His voice cracked at the end and his voice softened. "It could have been you."

Liam stared at him in shock, trying to comprehend what he was saying. His father never raised his voice like that.

Alex did this? He reached up to touch the scar on his chest, the faint line on his throat. Would she kill two people? Would she try to kill me? He couldn't believe it. Why would she do this? She wouldn't hurt anyone without a good reason.

"No. She wouldn't do that, there must have been a misunderstanding, or...or something!" he said, then realized that there was an easy way to sort this whole thing out. "I want to talk to her. Something else happened that day and I need to know," he pleaded, feeling desperate for the truth. "One way or another."

His father's shoulders sagged, as if all his energy had left him. Then he drew himself up to his full height, his expression shifting to one he donned while doing his duties, the man who gave orders - the Councilman. One that he never used on him. His father had changed in two years. "Unfortunately, that won't be possible."

"Not possible? What do you-" His words faltered as he realized what his father was saying, and horror welled up inside him. No...he couldn't have... It took him a few seconds to find his voice again, and when he did, there was no hiding the fury that dripped from his words. "What did you do?" Nothing hid the disbelief or the betrayal. The roaring emotion gave him the strength to push himself to his feet and stand before his father. It was only then he realized he was now eye to eye with him. "If I find out - If I find out you floated her…" He jabbed his finger at his father's chest.

Marcus Kane flinched.

As rapidly as it had arrived, the anger fled and he sagged back against the bed with a shaky breath. When his father reached for him, he shoved a hand between them. "Don't," he snapped with a glare. "Don't."

"Kane, for god's sake, tell him. Or I will." The irritated voice of Dr. Griffin cut through the tense medbay air. When Marcus didn't immediately say anything, she turned back to Liam.

"Alex is alive," she told him.

He blinked at the words. "She's alive?" He turned to his father, his anger fizzling entirely as guilt took its place. "But then why did you..."

"Because she is no longer on the Ark," Dr. Griffin continued. "She, along with ninety-nine other delinquents were sent down to Earth to see if it's habitable." When Liam's jaw dropped open with a flood of questions, she raised a hand to cut him off. "All the delinquents are - or were - wearing transmitting wristbands. That is how we know most of them are still alive."

Liam stared. That hadn't been what he was expecting. Not at all.

"She's on Earth? And... she's alive?" he asked, doubtful. They'd been taught that Earth's surface was uninhabitable due to radioactive fallout. What had changed? Why had they sent down all the delinquents?

There's something else going on...

When his father and Dr. Griffin shared a look, his suspicion doubled. But when his father nodded, looking resigned, he felt a flicker of hope that maybe, maybe, he would be getting some answers.

Dr. Griffin took a deep breath, crossing her arms in front of her. "As far as we are aware, yes, she's alive. The problem is that as soon as the delinquents arrived on Earth, they began taking off their wristbands." The look on her face told him how frustrating and disappointing she'd found that decision to be, before she shook her head with a sigh. "We have been trying to get in touch with them ever since. It was only last night we received visual confirmation that they were okay...somehow they managed to rig the rockets of the dropships into flares."

Despite how mind boggling some the information was, he could only really focus on one thing. She's alive. She's alive!

Another thought struck him.

"What about the security cameras? Wasn't there any footage of the attack?" he demanded.

"Unfortunately, the cameras in that area were down for maintenance at the time," his father replied. He sounded like he had run through all of these questions a thousand times before.

And maybe he has. Dad used to get along well with Alex. It must have hurt to think she had done this. Suddenly how exhausted his father seemed made a lot more sense.

"You don't think that's weird?" Liam shot him a funny look. "That the feeds were down at the same time?"

"There have been energy restrictions in that area for a long time, it was nothing unusual for them to be down." His father gave him a sympathetic look. "I know you don't want her to be guilty…"

"Well, so far no one has really given me any real evidence that she did it!" he snapped back with a glare.

"She was holding the knife that stabbed you when we found her." A new voice spoke up from the doorway.

All three of them turned to face the new arrival. Standing in the doorway was a blonde woman who Liam only had faint recollections of meeting in the past. He didn't miss the way his father straightened, nor the way Dr. Griffin's mouth tightened.

Something about the woman set him on edge.

"Councilman Kane," she nodded at his father respectfully. "I'd heard the wonderful news that Liam had woken up and couldn't wait to come see for myself."

His father nodded at her. "Ms. Sydney. Please come in." He turned towards Liam. "Ms. Sydney was one of the first on the scene after the attack." His eyes turned solemn. "As she mentioned, she was the one to find Alex with the weapon."

Ms. Sydney sighed, turning sad eyes on Liam. "Indeed, I was. That was a tough day for us all." Her expression morphed into a soft smile as she studied him, the crinkles around her blue eyes deepening. "Young Mr. Kane. I am so happy to see you awake. This is truly a miraculous recovery." She reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Liam ignored how cold her hand felt through his shirt. He gave her a tight smile. "I'm feeling alright. A little shaky."

"I can only imagine," she said sympathetically, squeezing his shoulder. "And do you remember what led to the attack? It's one thing that has bothered us all. Why did young Alex attack you and the guards?"

Liam shook his head. "It's patchy at best. That's why I want to talk to Alex, to find out what really happened."

Ms. Sydney nodded. "Of course. It only makes sense -" The PA system on the wall cracked, cutting her off. She glanced at it with a frown, before continuing. "It only makes sense that you would want answers. It's a shame that we don't have communication with those on the ground."

"For now," Dr. Griffin cut in, giving the other woman a tight smile.

Ms. Sydney's smile was cold. "Of course, Abby. I imagine that you want to talk to your daughter. Although that might be difficult from a cell."

The temperature in the room plummeted. Liam shifted in his seat uncomfortably caught between the two women, although the news of Dr. Griffin's daughter being on the ground caught his attention.

The PA system cracked and hissed once again, this time ear piercing. They all flinched at the sound.

His father cleared his throat, looking half glad for the interruption. "What is going on with the system?" He glared at the speaker on the wall.

Before anyone had a chance to reply, a staticky voice came over the loudspeaker.

"...llo...can...ere..me? Hello? Can ….anyone...ere me? This….en Reyes, I'm on...ground... he hundred. Can anyone hear me?"

The penlight Dr. Griffin had been holding clattered onto the table beside her. She stared wide-eyed at the loudspeaker, as if she could believe what she was hearing. "That's Raven…" she whispered, before turning around to his father. "That's Raven! She did it! She got through! I'm going to go to the communication room..."

His father glanced between her and the speaker like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

Before leaving, Dr. Griffin turned to Liam, her eyes dancing, more alive then he'd seen her. She smiled at him. "You may get your wish to talk to Alex after all," she said, before rushing out of the room.

Liam didn't see the way his father's expression turned pained, nor the way Mr. Sidney's expression turned stony cold.

All he could think was that he might get his answers after all.

Consciousness washed over her like a sickly nightmare.

Deep throbbing pain radiated from her side, washing through her body with each pounding beat of her heart. Her breath escaped her in short, quick gasps of air, never quite enough. Her mouth dry, her tongue tasted like copper.

Her body trembled on its own, her teeth chattering together, both freezing and on fire at once.

A small moan escaped her as she shifted, the rough surface she was laying on digging into her back.

What's wrong... with me?

Around her the world howled, dampening all other sounds. Confusion and disorientation filled her.

Where…am I?

Fragments of hazy memories slipped through the fog that clouded her mind.

Grounders. The river.

Bellamy.

Her heart lurched. Panic forced her eyes open, only to be greeted with darkness. The dim glow of dying embers provided just enough light to show that she was in an unfamiliar room. Shadows permeated all corners.

It took great effort to loll her head to the side, which she regretted a second later when bile rushed up her throat. She choked. Gagged.

Concussion. You have a concussion. A distant memory floated to the surface. She hit her head in the river. The Grounder found you.

She knew she should be more afraid, knew she needed to get out of here. But the bone deep exhaustion that filled her stopped her from trying.

Something's wrong with me.

The air shifted around her, a pleasant, cool breeze caressing her overheated skin. Her eyes fluttered at the feeling. It took her mind far too long to realize there was someone standing over her.

She was unprepared for the rough hands that grabbed her. Her eyes snapped open, but all she could see in the dim light was faceless shadows above her.

Monsters. Grounders.

The scream that rose in her throat came out as nothing more than a desperate whimper. She tried to move, to crawl away, but her exhausted body would hardly respond to her commands.

No! No, don't touch me!

The hands grasped at her, pulling, tugging. One hand pinned her down while the other poked and prodded along the edge of her shirt. When they finally encountered the deep wound on her side, stars exploded behind her eyes, her head snapping back into the ground behind her as she gasped, unable to scream. Her hands pushed against whoever was touching her, trying to get them to stop.

They pressed something cool and damp to the wound, allowing it to seep into the fabric of her clothes. The soothing feeling would have come as a relief if after a second, or an hour, the fingers began tugging at the fabric, peeling the blood crusted shirt away from her skin. Her eyes clenched shut, willing the pain away. She whimpered as the edges stuck her wound before coming free.

She failed to see the second smaller shadow hunched over her, nor the glowing metal they held in hand. The warmth near her hip was the only warning she received before they pressed something against her wound.

Pain exploded along her side, fresh, hot, and searing.

The raw scream that tore from her throat cut through the air like a knife. Her back arched, trying to pull away from the agony, her leaden arms rising, light as a feather, to snatch at the inferno pressed against her skin.

"Hod gada daun!" The smaller figure barked.

The larger figure batted her hands aside, swiveling around to half lay across her rib cage, blocking her hands and keeping her from thrashing. Her fingers scrambled along his back trying to find anyway to stop the pain, her fingernails digging into the fabric of his clothing.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

She was dying.

She cried and begged, nonsensical pleas pouring out of her like a flood. But soon the little strength she had began to wane. The edges of her vision fading black as her cries turned to whimpers, and her whimpers turned to nothingness.

After an excruciating minute, they pulled the heat away. She sagged, panting and drenched in sweat. Uncontrollable tremors wracked her body as the pain ebbed to a deep throbbing. Her jaws ached; her teeth clenched painfully.

Blackness encroached on her vision as her eyelids fluttered, her mind shutting down.

She was distantly aware of the pressure leaving her chest.

As she faded into oblivion, an old weathered voice spoke to her.

"Reshop gada."

Everything was different when she awoke the second time.

Grogginess clouded her mind, but the searing pain in her side had faded to a dull throb. She was no longer on her back, instead she lay on her good side, cheek pressed firmly to the ground below. The musky scent of damp earth filled her nostrils.

The air was still; the howling winds had died down a whisper.

She shifted, grimacing, and attempted to reach for her wound, only to find her hands bound in front of her. Panic jolted her stomach, and awareness flooded back in an instant.

Her eyes snapped open.

The darkness that had encompassed everything had given way to daylight, allowing her to see the small room she was in. Concrete walls surrounded her on all sides, with two windows on opposite sides and a door. They were all barricaded with wood slats. Dust floated though the sunlight that filtered through the slats.

The room was small, too small. She tried to ignore how it reminded her of a familiar dark closet. But at least you're alone, she tried to tell herself. But the thought did little to comfort her, knowing that they could return at any moment.

You need to get out of here.

Gathering what strength she had, she yanked and strained on the rope binding her arms, trying to find a way to get her hands free. All she succeeded in doing was rubbing her wrists raw. The more she struggled, the more her chest tightened, her throat constricted...

Sharp, panicked breaths escaped her. She tried to sit up, but a searing pain tore through her side and she collapsed back to the ground with a pained gasp. She curled around her wound, willing the pain away.

Pain was good for one thing; it cut through the fog that had overtaken her brain, giving her a second to think.

Don't panic. You're okay. Focus. Breath. In and out. Bellamy's words from the cave echoed in her head and she latched onto them. In and out. Focusing on his words she forced herself to follow his instruction.

Sooner than she expected her breath returned to a more reasonable level.

Okay, okay. Think. Where are you? Can you get out?

Raising her head, she forced herself to look around, taking in some details she hadn't noticed at first.

Her jacket was gone, leaving her in her tank top. In its place, a warm blanket covered her, which had pooled around her legs. Her wet clothes had dried, telling her that she'd been here awhile.

She stared at the thick bandaging on her size, puzzled by its presence. Her fingers brushed against the material that covered her wound.

Why would they do this? Why help me after they spent the time hunting us down? She didn't want to think what that could mean. They might have only saved her for a worse fate. The memory of blood bubbling from Digg's lips and the startled look on Roma's frozen face sent a spike of fear through her.

You need to get out of here! You need to get back to the others. She didn't want to think about the possibility that none of them made it back. No. Bellamy and Finn would get them back. She was sure of it. Just worry about yourself.

Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the pain she knew would come, and forced herself to sit up, pushing herself up with her bound hands. Her side throbbed and she braced herself until she sat upright, her back finally resting against the wall behind her.

It wasn't a big movement, but the sweat trickling down the back of her neck told her that it had taken more out of her than it should have. Her body was much weaker than it should have been and she wondered how sick she had been.

How long have I been out?

She didn't have more time to contemplate it, as a rustle of fabric came from the door to her right. Her heart leapt to her throat and her head snapped up to face the sound. Idiot, she cursed herself, you should have stayed down.

As the door swung open, she brought her knees up, expecting rough looking Grounders to walk through. She didn't know what they wanted. Why had they kept her alive when they had killed Roma and Diggs?

But when the Grounder walked through the open doorway, it was the last person she expected.

It's the old woman from the river, she stared in shock.

The figure shuffled through the doorway. Though she moved slowly, her body still seemed to have the strength to stand tall. Her body no longer clad in a dark cloak, instead more comfortable pants and long shirt. Her long-braided grey-white hair and weathered face was not one she would forget.

The jovial expression she had greeted her with last time was gone, her dark eyes were serious, her mouth tight as she stared down at her.

Alex felt frozen under the woman's gaze, not sure what to do. When the old woman's gaze finally slid away when she stepped towards the remnants of the fire, Alex let out a low breath only to tense as a second figure ducked through the door. Pressing herself back against the wall, she wished the ground would swallow her whole - the man that had been with the old woman by the river shutting the door behind him and leaning against the frame. This time he didn't have a weapon in hand, but his eyes were dark as he stared down at her.

She swallowed nervously, eyes darting between them.

The old woman shuffled around, removing items from a basket Alex hadn't noticed her carry in. She poured a liquid from a bottle into a bowl, followed by dried herbs, which she began mashing with a well-rounded stone. Once it reached an unknown satisfying consistency, the old woman turned towards her and knelt down beside her.

"Drein," she said in a soft, but commanding voice, weathered hands holding out the bowl.

The unfamiliar language didn't surprise her as much as it should have. Even so, she was fairly certain of what the old woman was saying. Drink. Yeah, not likely.

"Uh, I'm okay, thanks," she rasped through a parched mouth, leaning away and raising her bound hands between them.

The man made a sound of disgust. "Osir jos beda frag em op. Emo bilaik Mounon. Emde laik baga." She forced herself to not flinch as he stepped towards her, instead glaring back with the little energy she could muster. She hadn't done anything to deserve any of this.

The old woman didn't seem perturbed by his tone or his tense stance. Instead she sat back on her heels, the bowl coming to rest on her lap.

"Nou. Ai nou vout. Emo slip daun kom skai." The woman's voice was soft. She watched Alex with intelligent, sharp eyes.

Alex shifted under her gaze, though her gaze snapped from one to the other, wondering what the hell they were saying.

Why couldn't they just speak English?

The man didn't like the old woman's reply because a snarl crossed his face. "Emo flosh klin Trikru stegeda!" he snapped.

"Noumou," the woman cut him off, her words sharp, the look she cut towards him even more so. "Yo so bants."

The man froze and stared down at her furiously, before huffing and storming out the door, slamming it behind him.

Alex stared wide eyed at the space he had been, only half wishing he would come back as the full weight of the old woman's gaze settled on her once again.

She didn't know what to make of the old woman. She was much older than all the other Grounders Alex had come across since they'd landed. While she didn't carry the same air of danger around her, there was something about her which set Alex on edge. After all, you didn't make it to an old age without having survived the rest.

Think of Roma...of Diggs. They speared Jasper to a tree. These people have been hurting us. Hunting us. They have no problem killing us. And we have done nothing to deserve it. Don't underestimate her.

The flicker of anger that ignited in her chest gave her the bravery to say something.

"Why did you bring me here?" she demanded, voice rough, her hands clenched into fists before her. "You need to let me go. My people will already be looking for me!"

My people. The choice of words felt right. It wasn't until that moment that she realized that it was true - the 100 were her people. She would do anything for them. Even though she suspected that only a few of them would do the same for her.

Bellamy, Clarke, they'll be looking for me, she thought with certainty that she didn't quite feel. But even if they are, they won't find you in time. There is nothing stopping these people from killing you right now. It's up to you to get out of this before they slit your throat and throw you back in the river.

The old woman stared at her and said nothing. She didn't react to her anger at all, merely watching and waiting.

For what, Alex didn't know.

Alex stared back, frustration building up within her. "Right. You don't fucking understand me," she spat back, leaning back further against the wall behind her, wincing at the motion pulled at her wound.

Her flinch of pain seemed to trigger motion in the older woman, who leaned forward once again and raised the bowl of broth backup towards Alex, forcing it until her hands. She accepted it more out of reflex than anything else.

Glancing down at the bowl full of liquid, she sneered. "Why would I drink poison?"

"Why would we save you only to poison you?"

Alex's head snapped up to stare at the old woman, the words not quite registering in her brain.

How...did she just...what...

"You - what?" Her words were hardly more intelligent than her thoughts. Her brain finally caught up. "You speak English!?"

The woman's stoic facade finally seemed to break and she rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Now drink, you'll be in less pain if you do."

"You...you speak English." This time it was more of a statement. But there was no mistaking the tinge of accusation. The broth in her hands forgotten as she tried to wrap her head around the revelation. "You understood me and didn't say anything!"

"Why would I speak to you?" The old woman tilted her head to the side. "You are my enemy."

Alex blinked. "Your enemy…" Her shock twisted into indignant fury. "Your enemy? Are you fucking kidding me? Your people have done nothing but try and kill us since the moment we landed here! Know how many people your people have killed already? Three! Maybe more! And it would be more if we hadn't fought back! What did we do to deserve that? We've never hurt any of your people!"

"Your people killed a village." Despite the heavy accusation of her words, the woman spoke calmly, as if she were merely stating a fact.

"What? Killed a village?" Alex asked, incredulous. "What are you talking about?"

Her thoughts didn't know where to go first, that there were apparently villages of Grounders or that she was somehow being accused of mass-murder.

"The red rockets your people fired into the sky. They landed on a nearby village. Many of my people died." For a brief moment the old woman's mask cracked and Alex could see sorrow, the weight of her words on her shoulders. The woman's hands fluttered over the items from the basket, seeking a distraction.

Something clicked.

The flares.

Alex stared at her as understanding struck like lightning, filling her with unease. "What? No, there's no way." Denial was the first thing on her lips. They had only attempted to send a message to the Ark. There was no way...but the more she thought about it the more she realized that there was a chance the woman's words were true.

We sent rockets up into the sky trying to contact the Ark. But we never thought about them coming down, where they would land.

Even without proof, the thought that they had somehow wiped out a village made her queasy. She sank back against the wall, staring at the bowl in her hands.

But how were we to know where it would land…

"It wasn't intentional. We - we didn't know."

The old woman assessed her reaction, seemingly finding something she approved because something in her expression softened, the lines in her forehead relaxing. She sighed wearily as she settled into a more comfortable position, crossing her legs before her. "I have suspected it wasn't an intentional act of war. But my peo - the other's, they do not see things the way I do."

Act of war...That was why we were attacked in the forest. That's why they hunted us. A sudden thought struck her. But they attacked Jasper before we ever considered using the flares…

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "You say we are your enemy. That you attack us because of the flares...but your people have been attacking us since we arrived." She did her best to keep the accusation out of her voice, knowing it wouldn't help. This was her chance to learn more. To find out more about these people that they were sharing Earth with. "This wasn't just about the flares."

The woman simply cocked her head as she watched her. "A strange group of people come down from the sky and land in your territory. Would you not defend yourself?"

"Not if they hadn't attacked us, no. I would maybe start with talking instead of killing." She couldn't keep the sarcastic drawl from her tone.

But even as she said the words out loud she knew it wasn't true. The hundred were made up of impulsive, trigger happy delinquents, especially with Bellamy at the lead. It didn't take them more than a split second to turn on someone, to turn into a mob. She'd seen it when they'd landed. You've seen it with how everyone turned on Murphy… She didn't doubt that if a Grounder had appeared in their camp on the first night, the group wouldn't have reacted well.

She relented. "Fine. Some of my people would have likely defended their territory. But there are others of us who have been willing to talk. To find a peaceful solution."

The woman swept her arms wide, giving her a dry smile. "And here we are. Trying to find a peaceful solution. After all, why do you think I ordered you to be kept alive?"

The reminder of the fact that her life was in the hands of this old lady who claimed to be her enemy made her uneasy. The woman only had to give the word that and the man would come back and end her.

"There is something you need to understand, child. Not all of my people seek peace. They would rather see your group destroyed. You are unknown. Different. A threat. Why would they welcome you here?" She leaned forward. "But when I saw you struggle out of the river, battered and bleeding, I saw an opportunity. One where I get to learn who these people were who fell from the sky. We have an opportunity."

The woman rose to her feet, grabbing her basket on the way. Her gaze held the weight of someone who made difficult decisions. And wasn't afraid to make them. "Now, child. Whether you're friend or foe...it is up to you to decide."

There was no immediate threat in her words, instead she stated it like a fact.

But for now, Alex was her prisoner.

As the old woman made for the door, something else sprang to mind.

"Wait!" she blurted out. "You-you never told me your name."

The old woman stopped in the doorway, her long white braided hair cascading in rivers behind her. Her dark eyes settled on her and seemed to carry the weight of someone who had seen the darkest of days.

"My name... is Freya."

AN: What do you guys think of this chapter? Who's Freya? What does she mean to Alex and the rest of the 100? Alex has survived her encounter…so far. But things can change quickly in the world of the 100.

Thank you for reading! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

For anyone who is interested in the translations, which were pieced together from the Trigedaslang website:

"Hod gada daun!" (Hold her down)

"Reshop gada." (rest up, girl)

"Osir jos beda frag em op. Emo bilaik Mounon. Emde laik baga." (We should just kill her. They are Mountain Men. She's the enemy!"

"Nou. Ai nou vout. Emo slip daun kom skai." (No, I don't think they are. They fell from the sky)

"Emo flosh klin Trikru stegeda!" (They destroyed a Trikru village!)