Of Everything That Could've Been - Bellamy Blake [2]

Chapter 15 - Blood Must Have Blood (part 1)

Camp Jaha Guards have finally arrived. The afternoon sun shines high in the sky, the warm glow glaring through the woven material of the commanders large tent. Myles stands between Clarke and Lincoln, grounder warriors clustered around them face the entrance to the tent with them to greet the extra aid. Clarke and Lincoln seem relieved, and Lexa and her warriors appear hospitable, warmly accepting their brothers in arms.

"Welcome, Skaikru," Lexa greets thoughtfully from Clarke's side, her kind brown eyes scanning over the new Arkers faces. Monroe and Sgt. Miller approach with easily a dozen members of the guard cautiously, trying their hardest to be respectful in the commanders tent. "Join us."

Myles stares with her tired eyes held wide open, desperately trying to beg her mind to pay attention. Red eyebrows knit together slowly, her exhausted brain unable to recognise more than half of the Arkers faces. It's been a little over 70 hours without a minute of sleep, and it's beginning to really weigh Myles down.

Either that, or it's the unbelievably infuriating standstill they're at.

Blinking quickly, Sgt. Miller appears to teleport in front of her from his tentative spot slipping through the tent flap. The dark skinned man looks down at his hands, and Myles dizzily follows his eyes. A metal canister, about the length of both of the man's fists held together and too wide for his fingers to touch as they wrap around it, sits in his hands. Sluggish confusion clouds over Myles, having not noticed the canister before.

"A package from Raven," Sgt. Miller informs her at her perplexed expression, and hazel eyes jump back up to his kind and respecting gaze. "Hydrazine. Just like you said."

"Thank you," Myles nods, accepting the freezing cold feeling canister with a small, forced smile.

"And, uh..." the Ark guard starts, shifting his eyes to Clarke. "...your mother and Marcus," Sgt. Miller glances between the girls, "wanted to be here, too."

The mention of Marcus Kane sends a slow pang of something her aching mind doesn't recognise through her chest. A tangy sour stench reaches her nostrils, and Myles immediately writes it off as sweat from the man in front of them. Freezing cold metal starts to burn her slender fingers, the canister feeling as if it's only getting colder and colder.

"I know," Clarke replies, and Myles' left hand jitters. "But the wounded in Tondc need her more."

In another blink, Sgt. Miller is walking away from them and the redhead can't help wondering why the smell is stronger now that he's not here anymore. Her slurring mind halts altogether as her veins become hot and her slumped frame goes rigid.

Standing in front of the tent flap is her father, his belt hanging limply from his hand. Blinking in shock, it takes a second to register that she can't hear the belt buckle dragging across the ground. She's hallucinating, the lack of sleep not only affecting her motivation and awareness, but her senses. The fingers of her right hand twitch over the canister, making sure that the hydrazine wasn't an illusion without taking her fearful eyes off her fathers looming figure.

"Field commanders," Lexa's authoritative voice calls to the people in the tent, "today's the day we get our people back. The enemy thinks it's safe behind its doors, but it's not. When it realises that, it will fight back. Hard. We need to be ready."

Lexa's head shifts in the corners of her eyes, and Myles turns to look at her. The commanders brown eyes are flicking between the two teens beside her, before Clarke's blue eyes land on Myles as well. Swallowing and ignoring the man standing ominously in front of the tent entrance, the redhead tries to steady herself in what little shreds of reality her mind can grasp.

"This..." Myles starts, scanning her eyes jaggedly over the crowd of faces before stopping on the illusion of her father. "...is a rescue mission, first and foremost. We're not here to destroy their home or wipe them out."