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NO DECISION HAS BEEN MADE. The way Jaha was talking, it sure sounded like one had been made. Taylor had to leave mid-speech just because what was in it was making her so angry. He arrived out of the blue only to tell them they had to leave and abandon everyone at Mount Weather. The same people he had sent down to begin with.
She was tired of the utter disregard for people's lives. The decisions they spoke of swirled around in her head, crashing together in a loud and disorderly.
"Hey!" a voice called out to her, all too familiar. "Taylor!" She turned around to find Bellamy rushing toward her with Clarke in tow, both looking gravely serious. Exchanging a quick hug, she glanced at him curiously.
"What's going on?" she asked, looking between the two in concern. She was beyond glad that he was okay, but the way they looked it seemed like this was much more than just Jaha's command to march away from the place.
"I can explain on the way, just follow me, Clarke is going to get a medkit," Bellamy rushed out, nodding at Clarke, who dashed off without a word to go and retrieve what he required.
"Why does Clarke need a medkit? Is Octavia okay? What's going on?" she questioned worriedly, her eyes widened immensely when she looked at him.
"Once Clarke catches up, I'll explain everything," he assured, absently squeezing her shoulder, evidently lost in his own worry. She didn't have a substantial amount of time to adjust to this information before light footsteps behind them alerted them to Clarke's presence.
All three of them slipped out through Raven's gate and started their way on a very familiar path. "Are we going to the dropship?" Taylor questioned, double checking her surroundings, very sure that she could not be mistaken.
"Yes," Bellamy confirmed. "It's Lincoln. We found him."
His grave tone gave her no comfort, and she exchanged a quick look with Clarke. The fear of what was happening was gnawing at her insides.
Once they finally arrived, Bellamy wasted no hesitation in leading them into the dropship as fast as he could. It was eerily silent inside of the ship itself and he pointed up at the ceiling. Lincoln was on the second level. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she reached the top of the ladder.
When Clarke entered above her, it was silent for a moment. That silence was only broken by utterly primal screams and guttural groans, the sound of metal clashing against metal resounding in their ears.
Lincoln was standing where he stood mere months ago, their prisoner, but this time with blood on his face and an inhuman look gracing his features.
