When All We Have Is Peace

Clarke

Clarke grimaced up at the cave roof, biting her lip to keep in a yelp of pain as she adjusted her position. She could feel her shirt clinging to her side, sticky with blood, and the mental images of the bloody claw marks were not pleasant. The animal had come out of nowhere and attacked her from behind, slashing into her skin with its razor sharp claws before taking off into the trees. Clarke assumed that the animal planned on waiting until she was too weak to fight back, then it would strike; she just hoped that the storm had it hiding in a den somewhere. Maybe a fallen tree would crush it, or perhaps a Grounder will kill it on a hunt. She shook her head at those ridiculous thoughts, and focused on lifting her shirt without causing herself too much pain. In the fading light, Clarke was able to see that the wound ran from the top of her shoulder, across her rib cage, down to her belly button. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found that the bleeding had stopped. If she kept it clean, it probably wouldn't get infected. Drawing in a shaky breath, Clarke pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the cave entrance. She tore a piece of her shirt and held it out in the down pour until it was soaked through, then she sat down to clean the cuts. It took every ounce of her self-restraint not to cry out when the cloth touched the shredded flesh. Clarke dabbed as gently as she could, tears slipping down her cheeks. Outside, the thunder crashed angrily in the heavens making her wish she wasn't so completely alone. Once she was finished cleaning the wound, Clarke drew her knees to her chest, wincing when a sharp pain shot across her ribs. Gritting her teeth against the cold, she rested her head on her hands and tried to sleep.

She must have dozed off because when she opened her eyes again, sunlight was warming her face, and her hair was almost dry. Clarke sat there against the wall of the cave, staring out into the forest; she hadn't dreamt. Maybe it was because of the thunder, or the pain of her injury, but Clarke had slept the entire night without dreaming. She felt her lips twitch in an attempt to smile, but it felt strange on her face so she stopped and got to her feet. Her side screamed in protest, causing her to gasp and groan. Clarke rolled up her shirt and cursed; the movement had torn the healing skin and it was bleeding again. Muttering, Clarke let her shirt fall back into place, adjusted her coat, and started walking. She had a splitting headache, and the world around her seemed to be spinning, but Clarke pushed on; the memories like a never resting wall, forcing her farther away from her friends.

"You need water." She told herself as she crossed a small stream, wiping the sweat from her brow. The water was clear and when she dipped her hands into it, the coldness was almost painful. Clarke drank thirstily for a few minutes before sitting back on her heels. Despite being hydrated, Clarke's head still hurt, and the dizziness was still there. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and sighed.

The day seemed to drag on as Clarke made her way through the forest, the bow on her back feeling heavier by the minute. Hunger pains had her stomach churning, putting her in a foul mood. She tired to shoot a few rabbits, but her hands were too shaky and her aim too poor; by nightfall Clarke only had one squirrel to show for her attempts. Shooting the little animal had been an accident, she'd been aiming at a rabbit but missed and hit the poor things back. She wasn't complaining though, food was food. The sun had been down for a few hours before she finally allowed herself to stop and start a fire. Clarke hated lighting them, hated the idea of someone seeing it and seeking her out, but winter was coming and the nights were too cold to go without one. So she sat near the flame while her dinner cooked, staring off into space. She thought back to her first few days on Earth, how terrifying the forest was to her. Out in the trees it was silent, eerie and unwelcoming, she'd missed the constant hum of electricity from the Ark. Now the silence was inviting, comforting...it was lonely. And perhaps that was why she loved it so much, because it made her feel so alone. The silence punished her for the things she'd done. It reminded her of the death and destruction that she had caused. Silence was the aftermath of destruction.

Still, she missed them; she missed her friends. Clarke found herself craving their presence, yearning to hear the soothing hum of their chatter around the campfire. Closing her eyes, Clarke imagined that they were there with her, that nothing had changed. She let herself pretend that the war had never happened and that the Grounders didn't exist. The image made her smile as tears slid down her cheeks. A soft whimper slipped past her lips, filling the air with sorrow. Clarke wiped at her eyes furiously, hating how weak she was being; she didn't get to miss them, she was the one who left them in the first place.

"You did this to yourself!" She screamed, slamming her fists into the ground. Clarke screamed again as fire pulsed along her side from the wound she'd received the day before.

"Clarke."

Clarke whirled in the direction of the voice, pulling her knife out of her boot as she turned, but froze almost immediately. "Fox?" She gasped, dropping the knife.

"What are you doing out here?" The young girl asked, not coming any closer.

"What am I- Fox, why are you out here? I thought you were dead."

Fox smiled and looked away, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "I am dead."

Clarke blinked in confusion, taking a step toward her, stopping when Fox moved back. The realization hit her with an unforgiving force that knocked the air from her lungs, and she closed her eyes. "You're not real."

The girl laughed, and it was a harsh, bitter sound. "It's like Finn all over again, isn't it? That must have hurt...driving a knife into his heart. For you I mean, there's no doubt that it was fucking painful for him."

Clarke winced and dipped her head."I did what I had to do."

"Did you have to kill me too?"

For a moment, Clarke was speechless. She hadn't killed Fox, the Mountain men had. "I didn't...I didn't kill you."

"Yes you did. While you were busy playing house with Lexa, I was being drained of my bone marrow! You weren't fast enough, you couldn't save me!" She spat angrily. "You left us in there when you knew that something was wrong! How could you just leave us? How could you leave us there to die!"

"No one believed me!" Clarke shouted. "I tried to tell you guys, but none of you listened to me!"

Fox shook her head, eyeing Clarke with a mixture of disgust and hatred. "You should have tried harder. You should have been there to fight for us like a leader! You just let us die!"

"Stop!" Clarke whimpered, turning away from her, only to come face to face with Maya.

"You didn't have to pull that lever, there was another way." She said, eyes swimming with tears.

Clarke felt her heart crack even more. "They weren't going to stop." She whispered, searching Maya's face for some form of understanding.

"There were children Clarke. They were innocent."

"I'm sorry." Clarke whispered, voice breaking.

"You sent Bellamy in there alone! You risked his life without a second thought!" Fox raged from behind her.

Clarke felt a sob rip itself out of her throat and she clutched at her head, willing the hallucinations away. They're unforgiving voices echoed around her in a deafening roar, and it wasn't long before Clarke was screaming along with them. Her fingers dug into the earth as she wailed, thinking that maybe, just maybe she could rid herself of the guilt if she screamed loud enough. The wound on her side had torn open again, and she could feel the blood soaking into her shirt and smearing over her skin. Part of her knew that she should do something to fix it, but the dead stood around her, the weight of their presence crushing her. They're hollow, haunting voices chanting in her ears.

Murderer

Murderer

Murderer

"Stop!" She shouted, leaping to her feet, but no one was there. Clarke looked around with wild eyes, her entire body quivering. The only sounds was the crackling of the fire, and the erratic pounding of her heart. She drew in a trembling breath and ran a hand through her hair before settling down beside the small fire and letting oblivion take her.