Chapter Text
September 13th
The worlds gone to shit. Again. It takes Clarke a minute to realize she’s not dead. Everything is so quiet and soft that she can almost imagine that she’s been allowed some peace in death. Clarke’s never been that lucky. Her eyes are heavy, but she works them open. She’s in the Ark. The low, ever present hum of machinery surrounds her. Did they find her; take her with them? Clarke lulls her head to the side. She’s met with the dozens of drawings she made in solitary.
“Fuck,” Clarke says, “not exactly the miracle I was hoping for.” Her words bounce off the metal walls that surround her.
Time travel. Sure, why not? Why not make her relive every horrible moment in her life from the start? At least she doesn’t have to watch her dad die again. Although, after everything she’s been through, all the people she’s seen die, everyone she’s killed, one senseless death that happened years ago doesn’t have quite the same impact as it used to.
Clarke looks back to her drawings to study them. Hmm. Not much time left. She closes her eyes. All she can do is wait so she might as well get some rest before her return to hell.
“Prisoner 319 hands against the wall!”
Clarke jerks awake, her head twisting side to side, looking for the threat. The short burst of adrenaline leaves her system as she remembers. There’s no point trying to resist right now. Clarke gets up and walks to the wall. Two guards enter looking like they hope she’ll try something just so they have an excuse. They reach for her father’s watch. It’d be nice to have something to tell time with, but it’s not worth getting knocked out. She lets them take it.
They lead her down the walkway that flows around the cells lining the walls. When they stop it takes Clarke a second to realize why. Abby looks so different since she last saw her. The easy smile she wears as she looks at Clarke is so bizarre that she can’t help but stare back at her. She’s not listening to the words that come out of her mother’s mouth. Her face starts to morph into the look of concern and judgement that Clarke’s used to, but by then the guards are already starting to pull her towards the drop ship.
With one guard in front and one in behind her she can’t make out the rest of the hundred around her. She’s pushed roughly into her seat, and strapped in. Anger flashes inside her. She’s already seen them die. Let them have their power trip now. Once we’re down they’ll see who’s in charge.
“Clarke, I-“
Clarke swings her head to the right. Wells is seated next to. His eyes seem to be pleading with her, asking her to understand. He looks just like she remembers. Not surprising. He died so early. Her best friend. She reaches out a hand to stroke his cheek.
“It’s okay, Wells. I know. I know what she did.” He’s shaking his head. I know what you did to try to protect me. A tear slips down his cheek. Clarke swipes her thumb to catch it. “Please don’t pretend. I need you here with me.”
“Of course, Clarke. You know I’m here for you. I love you,” Wells says the words so easily as if his love for her was an undeniable fact of the universe.
She wishes she could say it back. Clarke loves him. She does, but the words choke on the back of her tongue. Saying it makes it real. She’s lost him twice already and if this is real, if he’s real, it would break her already splintered heart. So she just smiles a little wider.
Clarke’s stomach lurches. The sensation of falling is overwhelming. She can hear herself screaming before she even registers what’s happening. It’s thirty seconds of pure panic before they hit that sweet spot of zero G. She's fine. They survive. Or at least some of them. The others are idiots. “Hey,” she has to scream to make sure she’s heard, “If you don’t want to die, then stay in your fucking seats till we land! Gravity is a bitch, and it will snap your neck in half before you even know what’s happening.” She sees the confusion on their faces when she turns around. She doesn’t care. She finds Finn and locks eyes with him. He’s already undone his seatbelt, but she glares until he buckles himself back in. That boy has led to way too many deaths. He was one of her first kills, but one of the ones she regrets the least. She wouldn’t regret it at all if it weren’t for Raven. Wells spares her a glance, but he seems to be listening to Jaha’s little message. And she’s falling again. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The crash is jarring, but it doesn’t matter. Clarke gets out of her seat quickly and takes the rungs of the ladder down two at a time. She just barely reaches the door first. She blocks it with her body as much as possible while she waits for everyone to gather.
“Move, princess, before I move you.”
Bellamy fucking Blake. His voice is as grating as it is recognizable. He stands in front of the rest of the hundred. His chest is puffed as he tries to exude an air of leadership. “Relax, Blake,” Clarke says, “Let me get a few words in. Don’t stray too far. If you can’t see or hear the drop ship you’ll get lost. I don’t feel like wasting my time looking for you, or what’s left of you.” She lets the steel drip into her voice on the last part. It seems to have an effect. Clarke makes a sweeping motion with her arm and finally steps aside. “All yours, Blake,” she says with a false sweetness.
He comes back into himself. Raises his head to look for Octavia. She comes flying into his arms. It’s nice to see her smile. “I think you should have the honour, O,” says Bellamy. He looks at her like she’s his whole world as she runs to the door.
“We’re back bitches!”