After the End [ The 100 ]

19. Like that training scene in catching fire

contents under pressure

[eiden]

I ignore the radio buzzing, and Clarke tiredly working over Finn as I'm redressing Bex's wound. It's kind of the one thing I picked up from my mom, and the reason why my fist is stiff just because it's stiff, and not because of any infection. And because, maybe just maybe, I'm a little hard-headed.

"Guess the nickname stuck, huh?" I ask Bex, finding her eyes briefly.

Her face displays confusion.

"Robin Hood," I explain with a small grin.

"That was her parents," Octavia cuts in. She's holding - practically hugging - herself.

"True. You're more like a guardian angel," I cement. I stick the end of the wide bandage along her ribcage, finishing the work with about three layers. "'Know I'm not as good as Clarke, but, she's kinda busy."

I turn back to see Clarke glancing down at the radio, frantic look in her eyes.

"Raven, can you please," Clarke says. Then, "Right here."

There's rushed movement behind me, but I'm already heading over to the water bucket to clean my hands.

The second my hands dip into the water, a moan tries its way past my lips. Actually, most of it does get out so I bite down on my lip. I sniffle hard and ignore my tears as I begin rubbing the back of my hand.

"Eiden, are you ok?" Clarke says quickly without a hint of concern. But I know she is, otherwise she wouldn't have asked. This focused, I should be honored she even heard it let alone thought to speak on it. I'm pleased, not surprised.

"Fine, you just..." I look down at Finn. He's all wet with sweat and some of his own blood. The knife's still inside. Clarke said it's the only way to keep him from bleeding out. "Make him better."

Finn was just starting to grow on me after the whole "maybe he has feelings for Clarke" thing. Turns out he and I fit together pretty well on certain tasks. I don't want us to lose him.

I drag my hands out of the water and rewrap them when they're dry. Then I leave the level, climbing up to the top.

It's like she's a stranger. I hesitate when I see Ali's there.

I send her a look she doesn't see, before my eyes land on some beautifully crafted wood. It's curved, beige in color, and the handle has twine wrapped around it.

An unconscious smile spreads my lips as I go over to it. This once belonged to a dead man. I picked it off the grounder who shot Bex, and she didn't mind the souvenir being around camp. I've kept it where I kept Warren, just so that it wouldn't have to go with the rest of our weapons.

Before I can pick it up, Ali lays her hand on the midsection, right above the twine. "What are you doing?"

"Ali, no," I huff and shake my head slowly. My eyes meet hers. "You don't get to do this anymore. You've seen what I'm capable of."

"You need to rest," she says sincerely, eyebrows bouncing up. "You've gone through enough in the last - barely - twenty-four hours. I can't believe Clarke let this happen. And quite frankly, I'm pissed off that you aren't as mad at her as I am."

Probably because it's easier that way. Look I know Ali cares about what happens to me, but the only thing I've really hurt are my hands since I've been down here. My wrist injury still comes from saving her back in the skybox.

The last thing I need is someone breathing down my neck.

I don't want her to be that to me. I just want us back to the way we were.