Beatrix Blake and John Murphy share an intricate history of bitter resentment, as the lines between love and hate blur, they grapple with shared histories, betrayal, and the unpredictability of their feelings.
SLOW BURN enemies to lovers.
The 100.
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The group stood frozen, their eyes wide as they witnessed Lincoln's struggle against the restraints that confined him. Clarke turned away briefly, grappling with the urgency of the situation.
"Clarke, he's seizing," Beatrix urgently tugged on her arm.
"What happened to his leg?" Clarke questioned, her gaze fixed on the blood oozing from the gunshot wound.
"I shot him," Octavia confessed, her voice trembling with remorse.
"Clarke, he's lost a lot of blood." Bellamy interrupted.
"Can you shine a light on his neck?" Clarke asked, and he quickly complied. "Needle marks."
"You think he's been drugged?" Beatrix questioned Clarke.
"Maybe." She replied, eyes narrowed.
Suddenly, Lincoln's restraints gave way, and he lunged at Clarke, catching her off guard.
"Lincoln!" Octavia cried, attempting to intervene but was forcefully shoved into the wall.
Bellamy, threw himself on Lincoln, throwing punches in an attempt to loosen his grip on Clarke. The room turned into chaos as they grappled with Lincoln as a reaper. Beatrix, grabbed a metal rod and swung it towards Lincoln, momentarily diverting his attention. Clarke, taking advantage of the distraction, struggled to break free from Lincoln's grasp.
Bellamy, relentless, continued to struggle with Lincoln, each hit echoing in the drop ship. Everyone was thrown around in the desperate attempt to subdue Lincoln. The room seemed to shrink as their struggle intensified, the confined space amplifying the chaos.
Beatrix, delivered a forceful hit to the back of Lincoln's head with the rod. The room fell silent for a split second as Lincoln, momentarily stunned, teetered on the brink of collapse.
Bellamy lunged forward, finally managing to subdue the reaper. As Lincoln slumped to the ground, Beatrix stood ready with the metal rod and struck Lincoln once more, this time with enough force to render him unconscious.
The room gradually settled into an uneasy stillness as the threat was neutralised. They all took a collective breath, the adrenaline of the intense struggle slowly giving way to a tense calm.
Instantly, they grabbed restraints and chains that restrained him on the ground, it wouldn't be long until he woke up.
"We have to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out." Clarke eventually spoke. "Hold his leg down." She instructed, and the group tried to stabilise Lincoln.
Octavia approached Lincoln cautiously, attempting to offer him some water. He erupted in a fit of rage, straining against his restraints in an attempt to attack her. Octavia, taken aback, withdrew, a sense of rejection hung in the air.
