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LYRA BEATS THE GRIM REAPER
(SORT OF)
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(Quick authors note)
OK SO HERE'S THE THING - i lowkey realized that the beginning of this chapter makes more sense at the end of the last chapter and the end of the last chapter makes more sense at the beginning of this chapter.
So imma switch them in, like, a week. I just want to give y'all a chance to read this part here so that you don't get confused??? As if this message isn't already confusing enough - but basically the part where Bellamy comforts Lyra here will be put in the last chapter and the part where he kisses her will be put here in this chapter instead. If that makes anymore sense. If not,,, just enjoy, lmao, sorry i never make any sense!!!
AND THE VOICE does not leave her alone. . .
You killed Wells, it reminds her in a grating sing-song voice as she treks through the thick forests. Pale sunlight filters through the foliage, dappling the undergrowth in an almost sickly yellow. You killed Wells. You killed Wells. You killed Wells.
She feels physically ill, nausea churning her stomach like a hurricane. Burning nerves seethe deep within the hollow catacombs that have become her stomach. Her fingers sear where she had gripped the knife. Every time she closes her eyes, his anguished face fills her vision, and the agony Lyra felt as she relieved his pain returns at full force. It is almost unbearable.
Bellamy strides beside her, looking anxious and unsure. She doesn't look at him. He doesn't seem able to disturb her, as if she is glass and he is terrified of shattering her. But she can practically feel it, his yearning, his need to do something. And yet still she remains inconsolable.
"It's not much further," Bellamy says softly, brushing a finger across her arm.
Lyra flinches away. He pulls back. She can feel her cheeks boiling a ruby red. It's not his fault. But it is impossible to stand human touch right now. It all feels like killing Wells.
He stays near, as if not daring to stray to far away, as if unwilling to leave her alone. Probably he is unwilling to leave her alone. It is at the very least a way for him to keep the invitation for comfort open and every few minutes he gently repeats assurances that they are almost back to what has been christened Camp Jaha, almost back to the others. Lyra wants to somehow tell him that she doesn't need the others, that she doesn't need anyone at all, but the words never come. Words sit dead in her throat. Trapped somewhere beneath the tears, any courage she'd feigned having now completely and utterly gone. She feels desolate. Every time she thinks she might have finally gotten over the killing, the image of Wells ignites in her mind, coming with memories from the war and Mount Weather and the Reaper Tunnels. Blood bleeding down his hip, the stench of sickness heavy on his breath. Too close to death and yet not close enough. She'd been forced to draw the distinction between the blurred lines. She'd been the one to kill him.
"Lyra," Bellamy's gentle voice breaks through her exhausted isolation. "You did what you had to. You would've died."
"Yeah," she mutters listlessly. "Only now I have to live with that."
Her voice is a mere croak. The first words she's spoken in hours. He twists around at once, fingers clutching at hers like an iron-vice.
"Who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things," Bellamy says quietly.
*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
CAMP JAHA IS more impressive in person than in the grainy pictures at Mount Weather. More of Alpha Station survived than she would have thought possible or probable. The great metal exoskeleton claws at the dull blue sky, a small field of scorched grass surrounding it. Caging it in are thin wires stretching from pole to pole, digging into the grubby earth, and Bellamy tells her it's electrified. Raven's got a special gate that they can sneak in and out of, and even though Lycra's stomach twists just the teeniest bit, she also thinks, Where would we be without Raven? And the answer ━━ probably dead.
Raven's gate proves to be unnecessary, though. They just walk right through the main gate. There's some sort of speech going on, what looks like Chancellor Jaha and Doctor Abby Griffin being the ones to give it. Lyra's not very concerned with it. She's more than happy to leave the politics to the adults now.
Murmuring a hasty promise to be right back, Bellamy squeezes her hand once, then disappears into the crowd to search for their friends. Lyra starts to make her way around the edge of the crowd. She's scouring the back of people's heads for that familiar tuft of brown hair that belongs to her dad. She doesn't get very far, though, her eyes landing on someone she hasn't seen in a very long time;
"Sinclair!"
Sinclair looks slightly disheveled, curly black hair sticking up near the back and his forearms streaked with grease as if he's been working all day. He probably has been. Camp Jaha certainly didn't pull itself together. But he manages to give Lyra a brief hug, catching her by the shoulders before pulling away.
"Hey, kid, I was wondering when I'd finally get to see you," he says with a smile. "Heard you're ten times the troublemaker down here then you were up there."
"Ten times zero is still zero," she says.
It's weird, seeing Sinclair down here instead of up there, surrounded by trees and grass instead of the stars. But it's a good weird.
"Not that I'm not super excited to see you, but have you seen my dad anywhere?"
He winces. "He went with Kane to meet the Commander."
"What?" Her eyes widen. "But my dad hates Kane. He was always trying to get my him arrested on the Ark."
"Yeah, well, there was this whole thing where Jaha was missing and Kane ended up playing Chancellor," answers Sinclair. "We all thought the Grounders had you kids, and when Kane went to try for peace with the Commander, your dad said, and I quote, Kane's got a nasty habit of fucking everything up. So I'm going with him. And that was that."
"Lyra! Bellamy said you got out with Wells - where is he? Did he stay behind at the dropship with Octavia?"
Clarke.
Stricken, Lyra turns unsteadily to see the blonde staring at her in earnest. Lyra can feel her throat start to close up as she faces the other girl. Because what is she supposed to say? How can she find the words to explain the depravity of what she's done, that she killed her best friend, that she murdered the boy Clarke grew up with, the boy who was her brother?
There are no words at all.
"Clarke. . . " she starts clumsily. Tears well in her eyes. Everything she wants to say sounds wrong. "Clarke, I'm so sorry. They did something to him in Mount Weather, with his bone marrow. And then in the tunnels, he couldn't walk. He knew he wouldn't get out alive. And then he asked me to. . . he asked me too - "
All at once, it seems to hit Clarke.
"Lyra. . . " she begins in an overly-controlled tone. "What did you do?"
"I killed him," Lyra whispers. "I'm sorry. I had no other choice. He asked me too. I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry - "
"You're sorry?" Clarke demands, her expression thunderous as she takes a terrifying step towards Lyra. "You're sorry? How - how could you? Wells was your friend! He trusted you!"
He asked me too, Lyra wails internally, but she can't bring herself to defend herself.
It won't erase the depravity of what she's done.
"Clarke - "
"No. Stay the hell away from me," says the blonde coldly. "We're done. I need you to come to the dropship with me now, to help Lincoln, because I know where my loyalties lie."
Lyra's heart crumples in her chest. She nods shakily.
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
BELLAMY found her Nasa jacket.
After Mount Weather had hit her with the knock-out gas, they'd stripped her of any unnecessary garments right there in the field. Some Grounder had come by it and taken it, the Nasa bomber jacket finding its way into a prison camp alongside Clarke's watch. When he'd given it to her, Lyra had been so happy that she didn't quite know what to do. Is she supposed to kiss him now? Or are they not there yet? How is she supposed to go about this, actually? She's a little more than clueless.
But, anyways.
Freezing violently engulf the skies as Lyra and Octavia leave the dropship; Lyra and Bellamy had come back with Clarke ages ago, but not much progress has been made since. Clarke's come to the official diagnosis that Lincoln's been drugged due to needle marks in his skin, but since then, not much has happened. Lincoln got loose once, and now Clarke's prepping to take the bullet out of his leg. Octavia shot him.
Lincoln's bloodcurdling screams follow them into the night air.
The stars twinkle coldly, fragments of lavender ice, and they provide the girl no solace as she lets the shadows swallow her. When trying to help Lincoln drink, Octavia narrowly avoided an attack from him, and yet all she'd said was that she needed to get him some more water from the river. Lyra knows it's barbaric to let her friend suffer alone ━━ to allow her to witness the embodiment of her bloodiest dreams and her waking nightmares, to allow her to stand alone as her own lover turns on her. Lyra refuses to let Octavia walk through this horror all by herself and so she followed her into the night.
"He'll be all right," says Lyra as lightly as she can. "Clarke will fix him. You'll see."
Octavia's expression is pained. "I shot him, LJ."
"He'll understand," says Lyra, so confident, so sure that everything will turn out OK. "Besides, he promised to teach me Trigadasleng and I intend to make sure he keeps that promise."
And she won't let anyone else die.
"Ai laik Octavia kom Skaikru," mumbles the other girl quietly.
"What?"
"Ai laik Octavia kom Skaikru," repeats Octavia, louder as she meets Lyra's gaze. "He taught it to me when he was taking me to his friends in the ocean, before he. . . before he. . . "
Her expression withers, so Lyra tries to distract her. "Eye like Octavia come Sky crew."
"You would say Lyra, genius." Octavia manages a weak smile. "It means I am Lyra of the Sky people. And your pronunciation is awful."
"Eye laik Lyra kom Sky crew," murmurs Lyra, fingers rapping against the Walkman shoved in her pocket. Her tongue pokes between her lips as she tries again. "I laik Lyra kom Sky crew, Ai like Lyra kom - "
Something catches Octavia's attention and she darts forwards, towards the charred and crumbling ashes of the camp walls. Almost immediately, someone pounces on her. A grubby, soot-drenched glove slaps around Octavia's mouth and crushes her lips as she lets out a muffled shriek. Another hand wrenches her backwards, the assailant shoving her against her chest.
"Shh, Shh, Shh," the man hisses, chapped lips contorting as he catches sight of Lyra. "Nomonjoka."
The huge, hulking figure releases Octavia very quickly. At first Lyra thinks it's because somehow she's that intimidating and puffs her chest proudly, but then realises pretty quickly that it's because Octavia knows this man.
"Nyko? What are you doing here?"
"The scouts have already arrived," the Grounder relays in an urgent, scratchy whisper. There's a thick tattoo spiraling across the left half of his face and his hair coils around his head in greasy locks. "The Commander is true to her word. If you do not leave, you will die. Octavia. You saved my life from the Reapers. Now let me save yours."
"Leave?" Lyra echoes. "Our friends are still in Mount Weather. We can't go without them."
Besides, Doctor Griffin and Chancellor Jaha would never leave the forty-six behind.
"Who the hell are you?" Nyko demands lowly.
She straightens proudly. "Ai laik Lyra kom Skaikru."
"I've heard of you." His stiff features do not soften. "You aren't saying the words right. Your pronunciation is terrible."
Crestfallen, Lyra glances at Octavia.
Octavia gives a small shrug. "It's an improvement."
Across the camp, a violent scream rips through the air.
"What was that?" Nyko asks, his narrowed eyes sweeping the dark camp tensely.
Sighing in resignation, Octavia's voice is small. "That was Lincoln."
And then, without another word, Octavia is sprinting towards the dropship as if her life depends on it. Lyra is just behind her, mud splattering the thick-soled pair of onyx boots that she'd been loaned at Camp Jaha. No light follows them into the dropship and the walls are grizzled as Lyra shimmies up the ladder first, making for the third floor. When she steps onto the highest level, she cannot help but notice Lincoln restrained to the floor, Clarke kneeling over him. Bellamy watches from the side, his eyes tense and his jaw clenched. Alarm begins to stir in her belly.
"I can't believe we're back here," Lyra mumbles half-heartedly.
Bellamy snorts, but there are dark shadows dimming his eyes. "What's not to believe? We're about to die, in the middle of a war we can't win, and pretty much screwed."
Octavia emerges from the hatch, Nyko just behind her. At once, Bellamy seizes his rifle. He aims it at Nyko swiftly, fingers curling around the trigger.
"Bellamy, don't!" Octavia exclaims quickly, stepping between Nyko and the barrel of the rifle. "He's Lincoln's friend and their healer."
Before Bellamy can have time to respond, Lincoln's entire body begins to convulse. White foam froths from his mouth as his eyelids roll back.
"He's seizing again," says Octavia agitatedly, looking to Clarke for help.
The blonde falls back to her haunches in frustration. "I don't know if I can help him. I'm not my mom."
Bellamy's apprehensive eyes shift between Nyko and Lincoln, then at last he gives a permissive jerk of his head. Nyko is at Lincoln's side in an instant, yet Bellamy does not lower his rifle.
Nyko unravels a small cloth pack as he kneels. Lincoln's chest continues to heave erratically before his entire body seizes once more; Octavia, whose at his side, looks away very quickly. Meanwhile, Lyra watches as Nyko begins to pick through a series of small glass vials, each with a wooden stopper. It's similar to the pack she knew Lincoln carried, the one with the blood coagulant for Raven and the antidote for his poisoned knives. She wishes she knew what they were full of. She'd feel much more useful right about now.
"What is that?" Clarke asks warily as Nyko selects a vial of gossamer green liquid.
Nyko ignores her. Instead he leans further over Lincoln's body, muttering something in Trigadasleng that sounds like You gon play pingpong to Lyra's ears.
"Wait!"
Clarke's arm jerks forward as she catches the droplet of liquid before it can reach Lincoln's lips.
At once, Nyko reaches for his knife threateningly.
"Hey!" Lyra exclaims hotly, shielding Clarke's side. "Stand down!"
Clarke repeats Nyko's Trigadasleng, the words sounding odd and clunky coming from her mouth. But her eyes are wide with realization. "It's what they say before death. He's not trying to heal him."
Breathing heavily, her accusatory glare finds Nyko.
"He's trying to kill him."
You gon play pingpong, Lyra thinks, sure the crisis has been averted. She's determined to learn this Grounder language. You gon play pingpong. . . yu gonplei ste odon?
"Nyko," begins Octavia fiercely, dark eyebrows contorting as she rounds on him. "Is it true?"
"Yes," he admits quietly. "Death is the only way."
"Hold on," says Clarke. "There could be a way to bring him back."
"None that I've ever seen."
Wrenching the knife from its sheathe, Nyko throws it to the ground and there's a loud clattering noise as metal hits metal. At that same moment, the hatch creaks open to reveal Finn scrambling up the ladder, panting heavily.
"We have to go. The camp's leaving - "
"You!"
Lyra is startled by the wrathful, bloodthirsty growl that spews from Nyko's mouth. What could he possibly have against Finn?
There's not a moment to ask. At once, Nyko hurtles forwards, jerking down and grabbing the boy by his collar, hoisting him upwards. His countenance shudders with murderous rage as his great, grubby fists wrap around Finn's neck.
"Ripa!" Nyko roars, animalistic with rage.
"Stop!" Lyra shrieks loudly, trying to wrench the mountain of a man from Finn. "You're killing him!"
Nyko strikes her across the cheek before kicking his leg out, sending her slamming against the metal wall of the dropship. Fighting to keep from collapsing onto her knees, Lyra lets out a loud gasp, bells trolling in her ears. Pain spurts over the left side of her face and her vision weavers.
"Back off!" Bellamy's furious shout echoes and Lyra can hear the sound of a bullet clicking into place. "Now!"
"You slaughtered my people," Nyko snarls. "Elders. Children. Innocents - blood must have blood!"
"Bellamy!" Octavia shrieks. "You're not killing him!"
"Get out of my way!"
Electricity cackles loudly. Nyko crumpled to the floor. Head swimming, Lyra manages to lift her head to see Clarke standing over Nyko's collapsed body. In her hands is an electrical baton that Ark guards carry. Finn's staggering to his feet, fingers clawing at his neck as he tries to force air through his mouth.
"Guess they haven't forgotten," grouses Bellamy under his breath.
Haven't forgotten what? Lyra wants to ask. But there's no time as Octavia's dropping to Lincoln's side once more, sounding half-horrified as her hands scrabble along his chest frantically when she whispers;
"Lincoln. . . he's not breathing. . . "
"His heart's stopped!" Clarke barks, pushing her way between Octavia and Lincoln. "Move!"
Palms pressing against one another, Clarke drives her hands into Lincoln's chest over and over and over. She's performing CPR. Nyko manages to haul himself into a half-sitting position but that's as far as he can make it, slumped against the wall as he can do nothing but watch.
At long, long last, Lincoln splutters back to life.
"He was dead. . . " murmurs Nyko, looking astonished. "How did you do that?"
"You've tried bringing back Reapers before?" Clarke asks as realization dawns upon her face. Nyko gives a short, hesitant nod. "And they died like this?"
"What is it?" Lyra questions.
Clarke turns away from her very pointedly, features pinched. But she manages an answer.
"I know how to stop the attack."
There's a tense pause. Lyra swallows thickly. And then, lowly, anxiously ━━
"Will someone please tell me what's going on?"
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
THE JOURNEY BACK to Camp Jaha feels like an eternity.
Lyra does not have words. Trundling along the dirt paths that wind through the forests, her shoulders are hunched and her eyes wide. Clarke takes the lead, not a single sound leaving the stoic leader, either. Finn is just behind the blonde girl and Lyra stares after him, speechless. She does not have words.
Because what do you say to a seventeen year old boy whose committed a massacre?
And there is only one thought, a single word, a beam of broken light spiraling through the shadows of Lyra's mind, curling and twisting and winding, making her head hurt from the intensity of it all.
How?
How could he have done it?
The why is one thing. Up until Clarke's escape from Mount Weather, everyone had been under the impression that they were taken by Grounders. It was the most likely conclusion; Lyra cannot fault them for thinking that. But then, somewhere along the search for them, Finn had lost it. He'd lost a piece of himself when Clarke was gone.
But this is Finn. The Peacemaker. The boy who hadn't approved of guns, the boy who'd done everything in his power to keep the peace with the Grounders. If it had been anyone else, Lyra might have believed the story. But this is Finn. . .
Camp Jaha is in disarray. The cacophony of noise buzzes in Lyra's ears the moment they step out of the woods, only loudening as the four jog to the gates. White lights along the gate flash as hoards of people scramble back and forth.
"Mom!" Clarke shouts.
"Where have you been? We're leaving!"
A thin, copper-haired woman jogs towards them and it takes Lyra a moment to place her face and voice. Doctor Abby Griffin.
A tall, dark skinned man is just behind her, slightly more at ease. A small sliver of anxiety slinks it's way into Lyra's mind as the much larger man contemplates her, his expression entirely unreadable. This is Wells' dad, and the man who had sentenced Lyra to death. Chancellor Thelonious Jaha.
Also the man whose son she killed.
"I know how to stop the attack," says Clarke.
Jaha's brow contorts. "What are you talking about?"
"We haven't been able to negotiate with the Grounders because we haven't had anything to offer them. The biggest threat they face is from the Reapers. I think we may be able to eliminate that threat for them once and for all."
Abby takes a deep breath. "How?"
"Abby! You can't possibly - " begins Jaha frustratedly, only to be cut off as he gazes into the distance. "They're here."
Following his gaze, Lyra's jaw drops.
There, in the darkness surrounding the camp, are thousands of torches glittering menacingly.
"You three need to come with us," says Abby, her mouth a thin line as she observes what they can see of the Grounder army. "I need you to tell me everything that you know."
Fear strikes Lyra fast and hard. She can't do this. She can't face Jaha, not after what she's done. She can't. She can't. She can't.
But she doesn't have much of a choice.
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
"THEY'RE NOT ATTACKING yet, which means we still have time."
"We have two hours until dawn," Abby tells Clarke.
They're in a makeshift office, illuminated by a single bulb hanging down from the ceiling. It's a shoddy room that's half blackened from the Alpha Station crash, clogged with shadows, but they've managed to set up a rickety table and a few chairs. Chancellor Jaha is the only one sitting.
Lyra paces back and forth restlessly. She cannot even bear to glance at Jaha.
Every time she does, she sees Wells.
"Let me talk to the Commander," says Clarke confidently, leaning forwards against the table to look her mom in the eyes. "She was Anya's Second. Maybe she'll listen."
"We don't even know if the Commander is here," says Jaha frustratedly.
"Yes, we do," Finn responds coolly. "Nyko told us. You at least have to let Clarke try."
Jaha looks half-surprised at by the boys words, but masks any emotion quickly as his tone turns slightly poisonous. "We're wasting time. Abby, you have to give me authority now."
"Please don't," mumbles Lyra under her breath so that no one will hear her.
"Hold on," Abby responds smoothly and Lyra thinks, Yes! "Clarke, you said Lincoln is going through withdrawal. We don't even know what he's withdrawing from. The detox alone could kill him. Lyra, how much do you know about this Red drug?"
Jumping slightly when her name is mentioned, Lyra is suddenly uneasy as all eyes turn to her.
"All I know is that the Red drug is injected every two hours while a tone generator is sounded, accompanied with electric shocks to the wrist for thirteen seconds," Lyra says. "This phase ends when the Grounder is conditioned to be scared of the tone generator, which is about a day or two. After that, they're fully addicted to the Red drug."
"But you don't know what it is?" Jaha asks, observing her disdainfully.
"Well. . . no."
"And don't you think that if they're desperate for the Red drug, withdrawal will likely kill them?"
"I don't know." Lyra could kill herself for sounding so small and childish, but she can't help it. "I - I guess that's a possibility - "
"Then the detox is more likely to kill him," says Jaha at once. "To even have this conversation is ridiculous - "
"And if I can't save him?" Abby interrupts, ignoring him completely.
Clarke answers, "That's not an option."
"We are risking everything on a bluff?" Jaha asks incredulously, observing them all with some semblance of disbelief. "Abby, we have an out. We have a way to save the lives of our people!"
"Not all of them," says Lyra before she can stop herself.
Jaha shoots to his feet angrily. "We will come back to save the kids inside Mount Weather - !"
"We all know that's not going to happen!" Finn snaps furiously.
Jaha ignores him furiously. "Abby. This has gone on long enough. If you do not give the order to begin the exodus, you are killing us all."
"I'm sorry," Abby says lowly. "I can't give that order."
"Abby," says Jaha fiercely, bending over her shoulder and towards her ear. "Give the order."
"No."
"I. . . am the elected Chancellor of the Ark. And I am not going to let you risk the lives of more people; do you understand?" Jaha demands in a whisper, but it carries in the silent room. "I am going to ask you once again: give. . . the order to begin the exodus."
"No," Abby doesn't even flinch. "Are you through yet?"
Jaha doesn't seem to be through yet at all.
"Sergeant Miller. Major Byrne. I am relieving Doctor Griffin of her command." Jaha approaches the two members of the guard with unnerving ease. "Place these five into custody, but make sure they are ready to leave with the rest of us within the hour."
Neither guard moves.
"Right now, Major!" Jaha roars. Any trace of irritation is gone; he radiates fury now. "Or the blood of everyone in this camp will be on your hands, too!"
Byrne does not even flinch.
"Major Byrne, Sergeant Miller," begins Abby crisply, taking a small step forwards. "Put Chancellor Jaha in the stockade."
"Yes, ma'am."
Jaha flinches away from the guards as they move towards him, his voice a low whisper of contempt as he turns on Abby. "Everything we did to survive. . . you're just throwing it all away. Why?"
"Because I have faith, too. In my daughter."
"Sir," begins Lyra timidly. "Your son died for the kids in Mount Weather - "
"No!" Jaha's eyes flash as he regards her with something like fury. "My son died for you. And you do not even have the decency to honor that sacrifice."
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
PUSHING BACK THE HATCH, Lyra climbs onto the third level of the dropship. Octavia's crouching over Lincoln's still body, wiping at his forehead with a cloth rag. Bellamy is slumped in the corner, but as soon as he catches sight of Lyra, he hurries over to help her up.
"Thank god you're back," he mumbles, looking exhausted. "What about your dad? Have you seen him yet?"
"Him and Kane are still missing, probably with the Commander," says Lyra, trying to ignore the way her stomach clenches. The Commander has no reason to keep them alive, not after what Finn's done. "Jaha tried to evacuate and leave them and the kids at Mount Weather behind."
He exhales sharply. "Jaha's a dick."
"Where's Clarke?" Octavia asks sharply.
Abby in tow, Finn emerges onto the level. "Trying to stop a war."
Nyko's face remains impassive as he regards Finn, but his eyes flash menacingly. Yet he does not make a move to kill him, which Lyra is pretty thankful for. She's really just not in the mood to deal with another fight.
Leaning into Bellamy, Lyra takes a moment to catch her breath. Walking back and forth between Camp Jaha and the dropship is more exhausting than she's realized; she's got to have covered at least thirty miles in the past twenty-four hours.
Abby approaches Lincoln's trembling body, peeling back his eyelids. "Pupils are unresponsive. Tie off his arm. Tight as you can."
Finn responds accordingly, hurrying to get Lincoln's right arm down with a zip tie. Octavia does the same on his other side.
"Thanks to the supplies your brother found, Lincoln might have a chance."
"What's that?" Octavia asks as Abby reveals a syringe.
"This will bring down his fever." As Abby inserts the thin needle into his upper arm, Lincoln begins to jerk. "Hold him down!"
Bellamy and Lyra spring apart at once, both dropping to Lincoln's side. Lyra is squeezed against Finn as she helps grasp Lincoln's contorting upper-shoulder and she tries not to think of all the lives Finn has taken since they last met.
Then again, she supposes she is not much better. She killed her friend.
Suddenly, Lincoln goes still.
"What's happening?" Octavia's voice rises frantically. "Why isn't it working?"
"His heart's stopped."
"Then - then do CPR!" Lyra's voice is shrill with fear; they can't lose Lincoln. They just can't. "Clarke did it this morning, it brought him back!"
"Right." Abby swings herself over Lincoln's body for better access to his chest, Octavia and Finn scrambling backwards accordingly. "Tilt his head back. Pull his chin down to open his airway!"
Copying Clarke's actions from this morning, Abby begins to drive her palms into Lincoln's chest.
"Come on. . . " she urges breathlessly as Finn holds Lincoln's chin back. "Come on."
"You're stopping," says Octavia quietly as Abby begins to slow, her lower lip trembling as she blinks almost unseeingly. "What's wrong?"
Abby looks at her slowly. "I'm sorry. He's gone."
Lyra's heart sinks. No. . .
"No!" Octavia's entire body begins to shake incessantly, her entire body lurching forwards. A convoluted, agonizing jumbled up mess of syllables spew from her mouth as she shoves Abby aside, each word shuddering; "It's not possible! You're wrong!"
"Octavia - " starts Bellamy, but Octavia ignores him as she begins CPR.
A strangled cry bursts from her mouth as Lincoln's body is unresponsive, motionless beneath her. "Come back. . . "
Lyra's eyes burn with one thousand tears as she watches her friend break down.
She watches helplessly, uselessly. Because how do you restart a dead heart? CPR is just a temporary measure used to continue a minimal supply of oxygen to the brain and other organs; when someone is in cardiac arrest, defibrillation is the only way to reestablish a regular heartbeat. An electrical pulse will jolt the heart back to life. But that seems more than impossible right now. . .
The dropship is silent as a tomb; Octavia's sobs echo ruthlessly.
The hatch creaks open and Clarke emerges. She studies the scene quickly and when she catches sight of Octavia over Lincoln's body, her face becomes ashen.
Behind her comes a girl who Lyra knows at once is very powerful.
She is frighteningly beautiful. Carrying herself with a certain prowess as she saunters across the metal hull, her bronze skin is set aflame by the shadows. Full lips smoldering unpleasantly, she regards them all with a semblance of scorn. Tresses of dark hair are pulled back from her hollow features, striking black war paint smeared along her cheekbones and eyelids. Her lithe structure is clad in armor, strapped with various holsters and sheathes, glinting menacingly with various gadgets and weaponry. A blood red cloak is swung over a single shoulder. And for a moment, she stands among the broken Sky people and stares them down, waiting, calculating.
Lyra feels a chill shoot down her spine. The Commander is among them.
Two more warriors follow her into the dropship.
A heartbeat. Sky people and Grounders stare at each other. Observe. Regard. Square off like vicious opponents in a ring. Lyra's heart gallops in her chest. Bellamy lifts his eyes to hers, tilting his head for her to move back. At the same time, Finn braces himself as if to shoot forwards. The male warrior's jaw clenched. And then ━━
The dark-skinned female warrior bares her teeth in a snarl. "I'll kill them all."
Everything happens at once.
Bellamy aims his rifle between the three Grounders. The dark-skinned female warrior draws a curved blade that glints horrifyingly in the low light. The Commander throws an arm behind Lyra's neck, balling her fist into her hair as she yanks her backwards and forces her against her.
Lyra's chest heaves, her back against the Commander, a blade pressed against her left cheek.
"Let go of her!" Bellamy barks, swiveling the barrel to the Commander. "Now!"
"Shoot her and your healer dies," the dark-skinned female warrior utters lowly, her sword against Abby's side.
"Please," Clarke says, almost begging, as she glances at the Commander. "You don't have to do this."
The Commander responds to her. Her voice is not at all what Lyra would have expected.
"You lied." The Commander's growl is deep and drawling, venomous and yet smooth with the same gritty undertones as Anya's voice. "And you're out of time."
Heart thundering so loudly it's all she can hear, Lyra's terrified eyes sweep the dropship. She needs to think of a wait out of this. . .
. . . and her gaze finds the baton just a few inches away from Lincoln's body.
All he needs is an electrical pulse to his heart.
Knowing that her idea is probably going to get her killed, Lyra looks to Bellamy. She gives a small, almost incomprehensible jerk of her head to the baton.
He looks baffled, then afraid. Then, at last, he nods in silent agreement.
Driving her elbow backwards and into the Commander's ribcage, Lyra ducks downwards as the Commander staggers slightly. For a fleeting, precious moment, she's terrified that the Commander is about to stab her, but Bellamy somehow manages to gain the offense as he clicks a bullet into place and aligns the barrel of the gun with the Commander's heart.
As the male warrior lunges for her, Lyra drops to the ground and crawls towards Lincoln's body. Seizing the baton, she doesn't give herself a second to doubt the outcome, and plunges it into his heart.
Lincoln's entire body convulses.
"Hit him again!" Clarke shouts from somewhere behind Lyra, sounding shocked.
Lyra repeats the action swiftly, the baton crackling with what looks like miniaturized bolts of lightning. Lincoln splutters to life, gasping for air.
Falling back in relief, Lyra lets Octavia move towards him.
"Lincoln?" She whispers, almost afraid.
His eyes are hazy with recognition. "Octavia?"
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
OKAY SO HERE'S THE THING ━━ I have been asked multiple times to publish the chapters I have from season one from Noah's perspective. So I'm going to! I'll be publishing a short book that'll just be season 1 of him on the Ark!!! It'll be very short and you absolutely do not have to read it, but it will include small details about Bellamy and Lyra!!
It's essentially going to be Noah harassing Abby, Kane, and Jaha for 12 chapters straight.
THE COVER ━━
(Cover credits to xxsoteria she is so insanely talented!!! If you get the chance, I also highly recommend checking out her book Charmed! The oc, Elise, has my whole heart!!!)
Also, the Noah fic quill be published sometime within the next week, so look out for it if it's something you're interested in.
(And OBVIOUSLY shoutout to my two besties -finalkru and simp4rodrickheffley for encouraging me to write it!!!!!)
ANYWAYS HUGE SHOUT OUT TO MY BESTIE -finalkru FOR MAKING THIS BEAUTIFUL AESTHETIC
IT'S SO ICONIC AND BEAUTIFUL AND AESTHETIC AND I LOVE IT AND -finalkru SO, SO, SO MUCH!!!!
anyways, I LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK U SO MUCH FOR READING
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