If people don't start suspecting what the deal is with the statues after this chapter, I will be very surprised.

Trigger warnings for lewd language, implications of violence, mentions of murder and rape and a general pessimism in this chapter

Chapter 16

In love with a dead woman

In the land of the Luwoda tribe, which was in Disneyworld, of all places, they stood in the Haunted Mansion, also of all places, and the radio that was dangling from Clarke's right pocket on her pants started making static noises, then came Callie Cartwig's voice. "Clarke, are you there?"

Clarke jumped, turning to the radio. She then looked at the other Grounders around her. Their attention was on her and the radio. She grabbed the radio fast, speaking into the device. She had to be quick, she didn't want to have to deal with 'delicate flower' Grounders freaking out as soon as there was a noise they didn't like.

She spoke into the radio. "Callie, yes, I'm here! With one of the tribes. We left the one hundred, as I said. We're in Florida. Specifically, Disneyworld. No, that's not a joke. We're actually IN Disneyworld. That's where the tribe is. But we're trying to get boats so we can reach South America. How are things on your end?"

Clarke looked up at the Grounders around her and her group, wanting to make sure none of them were going to go on the violent side. They were staring, but none of them were lunging. Clarke heard Callie's voice.

"Things are going as well as we can do up here. Kane has been executed. There was no reason to delay." Callie said. Clarke stared, confused. Kane was executed today? Wasn't the plan to execute him tomorrow? Why speed up the execution to today?

Clarke then asked, "Callie, who won the election?" Since it was Callie that Clarke was hearing, and not Abby, she had a feeling she already had the answer.

Callie talked again, "It was closer than I thought it would be. But I won the election. I'm the chancellor now. So I decided that there shouldn't be any wasted time for Kane. No need to let him try anything and try to break out or manipulate anything from inside."

Clarke frowned. Callie winning wasn't a surprise to her. It was this Kane thing that made her worried. What difference would it have made, had Kane been executed tomorrow instead of today?

(Unless,) Clarke thought to herself, (There was something that Kane knew or might have found out that Callie didn't want him to tell anyone). Clarke almost gasped when she thought that. Wait, fucking what? Callie had killed Kane to keep Kane from spreading word of something? Of what? That was crazy. Clarke laughed, "I guess there's no help for it. At least one more problem is gone."

Clarke didn't like where her thoughts were going. There was possibly one reason why Kane had been killed today instead of tomorrow. There was one thing that Clarke could think of that Callie would want Kane dead in order to stop him from spreading information about. Kane wouldn't have been the one to tell people about the flaw in the Ark. Callie would of. So that meant that the flaw in the Ark couldn't have been what Kane had been killed for trying to talk about. There was only one thing that Clarke could think of. And that was that Kane hadn't killed Jaha.

Clarke's skin crawled. No. That couldn't be what happened. There was no way that Callie would float someone for a crime they hadn't committed. It was Callie, for fuck's sake. Not Jaha and not Kane. Not even her mother, Abby. It was Callie. An actual, reasonable human being.

So then why would she have floated Kane today instead of tomorrow? What the hell difference would it make?

A whispery voice answered, and the answer was somehow even more unnerving than the question. (Because Callie might have been the one that killed Jaha. Not Kane. She might have framed Kane for it. And killed him before he could tell anyone or convince anyone that he hadn't done the deed). Clarke suddenly felt really cold. She didn't know how she felt about that possibility. It was insane, but what if it was true? Sure, she felt no lost love for Jaha or for Kane. As far as she could see, the sooner they were gone the better. But she didn't know how she felt about Callie being the one that did it, and having manipulated her way into being the chancellor.

Not that Clarke felt she had any reason to judge others who did what they had to do, but still, the circumstances were weird, weren't they? Jaha had been assassinated. And Kane had been floated for it. But ahead of when he was supposed to. And on the same day that Callie had become chancellor, too.

Callie asked, "Clarke, are you there?"

Clarke brought her attention back to Callie. "Sorry, Callie, got distracted for a second. When did Kane get floated? Before or after you became chancellor?" Clarke wasn't sure why she felt like it was such a good thing to ask. But she just felt like she had to know.

There was no answer. Then Callie's voice came through. "After. Why, sweetie?"

Clarke tried not to gulp. After. Kane had been floated after Callie had become chancellor. She ignored what all of her thoughts were trying to warn her about. If Callie really HAD killed Jaha and framed Kane for it, then had him killed, so what? Jaha had been a huge threat. So had Kane. Just because the disposal of both of them had not been through legal means didn't mean that it wasn't the right thing to do. And even more importantly, that it might have been the only thing that could be done. Jaha would never have allowed anyone but him in control. And the same with Kane, but to a point.

But either way, they would have been obstacles keeping the rest of the Ark from being safe.

So was there any real loss? No. But despite that, it scared Clarke to think about. Callie hadn't even come down to Earth yet. And even then, if Clarke's theory was true, then Callie was willing to do unimaginably ruthless things in order to get her way. That was a little fucked up. If it was true, that was. Clarke knew that she would be betting a lot on that if she really wanted to assume that her theory was true. But if it was true…

Clarke had always assumed that Callie was the most reasonable member of the council, only after her father. If she was as cold and ruthless as Clarke was jumping to conclusions that Callie might be, then what did that mean for the rest of them? Was Callie to be trusted?

Clarke talked into the radio, trying to ignore her paranoid train of thought and not wanting Callie to get worried. (Or suspicious), a thought whispered to Clarke. Clarke said, "Okay, then. Just wanted to check. After. Right. So anything else happening on your end that we should know about?"

She felt like she had just said something dangerous, but she tried to shake that feeling.

She heard Callie's voice. "Raven Reyes. I've gotten into touch with her. She's here now. I told her that she might be able to speak with Finn Collins. If that's alright with you?"

Clarke gasped. Raven. She was accounted for? Callie had her on hand. Good. That was really good. Even though Clarke was suddenly not very comfortable with the visual of Raven and Callie being in the same room, it was a good thing. Because giving Raven an incentive to help them was important. And at this point in time, Clarke couldn't see any bigger incentive for Raven, than Finn.

Clarke was able to stop herself from smirking. Yes, she wasn't one to judge about people doing what they had to do for the good of others. And if she had to use Finn as a carrot on a stick for Raven to follow through on something, then she'd do it. What a crude and disgusting thing to do.

Clarke looked at Finn and said into the radio, "Yes, sure. I think that's a good thing. We have Finn right here." She turned to Finn. "Finn," She said, making sure she sounded as authoritarian as she felt, "Talk to your girlfriend." Clarke put a good deal of emphasis on "girlfriend," and glared at Finn to boot.

Finn looked like she had just told him to throw himself out a window as he took the radio in his hands. He talked into the radio. "Raven?" He asked. "You there?"

Static kept coming out of the radio's speaker, then a new voice came on. It wasn't Callie, but it was someone Clarke recognized anyway. She smiled. It was Raven's voice.

"Finn?!" Raven's voice cried from the radio. "You're there? Are you alright?!"

Finn looked at Clarke, uncertain. "Yeah, Rae," Finn answered. "I'm alright. I'm safe. Are you alright? It sounds like a lot of crazy stuff is happening up there."

Raven snorted, "Yeah. First some asshole shoots Jaha and starts all this, he couldn't even get the job right, the fucker. And now Jaha's been killed by someone else, we have a new chancellor and Kane's dead. So yeah. It's crazy. But from what I hear, things have been happening down on the ground too. The mechanic's kid, Clarke is with you, right? And so's Jaha's kid?"

Finn nodded, "Yeah. Clarke and Wells. They're here. They're alright. So Clarke's gotten us to some tribe. One that this Grounder says has boats. Boats we can take to South America. Where we'll be safe, supposedly."

Clarke heard Raven laugh, "That'll be a change. We won't have to worry about being floated every two minutes."

Finn smirked. "Yeah. That's a good point. Can't say Kane or Jaha were my favorite people either. So I guess we'll be living in South America, huh? Be plenty hot there, huh?" Clarke tried not to scoff. She recognized the tone Finn was taking. It was his flirty tone. It was that same insufferable tone he took when he had first talked to her on the dropship and tried that floating stunt right in front of her and Wells's seat.

(Real smooth, Finn,) Clarke thought, (Next you'll be saying that you and Raven should be having "radio sex." Don't have any phones around, so radio sex will do, won't it?) Wow, she had gotten really jaded, hadn't she?

"Watch it, Spacewalker," Raven's voice said, and Clarke recognized the mischief in Raven's words, "You might be a hotshot with the other delinquents down there, but you're still just my Finn. So as soon as I get down there, you're going to make up for the time we didn't get together."

Clarke scowled and turned away as Finn chuckled and promised Raven that that would happen. Anyone who knew about her and Finn's history in the other timeline would probably assume that Clarke was jealous of Raven, which she supposed Monroe and Niylah might assume. She didn't bother looking at the two of them to see their reaction to how she was acting. But she wasn't jealous of Raven. She was jealous of Finn. He had a wonderful girlfriend who was willing to risk her life and limb to come down alone in a pod from the Ark to see him and keep him safe. And he just hadn't cared. Had he cared, he might have been more loyal to Raven. But he didn't. For all Clarke knew, maybe Finn still didn't.

Clarke thought to herself, (Finn gets the world's most loyal, bravest girlfriend, Lexa and Anya get their power secured and their people that they lost secured, and what the fuck do I get? Oh, yeah, that's right, I almost forgot. I get a bunch of traitors for "friends" and "family." Fucking right). She had gotten bitter. So bitter. But Clarke realized that she thrived on the bitterness. Because if she had been so bitter in the last timeline, if she had been so cautious and careful, would the things that happened last time actually occurred? She really doubted it. Her bitterness was safety, as far as she could see. She grabbed her hands around the rifle dangling from her shoulder and the back of her neck. She really, really wanted to shoot something. Bad.

While Finn was sweet-talking Raven, Monroe watched Clarke. She sighed. She could read the resentment and anger all over Clarke's face. She wanted to reach out to Clarke and comfort her, but she had a feeling that Clarke wouldn't appreciate it. Not out in the open where several Grounders were watching them.

Monroe went closer to Niylah who also was keeping an eye on Clarke. "Niylah?" Monroe whispered to her. Niylah tilted her head slightly to look at Monroe.

"Munroh?" Niylah asked, attentive.

Monroe lowered her voice so Clarke wouldn't hear, "You notice that, right? Clarke's pissed. Meaning she's angry." Monroe didn't know if Grounders knew what 'pissed' meant. Or if Niylah had ever been exposed to the word before. So Monroe summed it up as best as she could.

Niylah nodded. "Yes. She seems very, very displeased. But she's been displeased for a while now, hasn't she?"

"Well, sure." Monroe mumbled. "But I'm thinking that we should probably come up with some ways of trying to heal her. Soon, I mean. Right now it's like trying to get past a barbed wire fence with electricity going through it." Seeing Niylah's confused look, Monroe corrected her words, "Right, you don't know what that means. It means that trying to get Clarke to trust again is going to be about as easy as dealing with a metal fence that can sting people and has sharp metal all over it. What's easier to get through, do you think? A metal fence with sharp things on it, or a wooden fence?"

Niylah nodded. "I see." She said, seeming to understand now. "So Klark before all the betrayals had a wooden fence. But now she has a metal 'electrical' fence with pieces of sharp metal?"

Monroe nodded, smiling. "That's right. There, you got it. So we have to figure out how to climb over that fence without her zapping us. And zapping is what happens when a fence has electricity. It's kind of like getting hit by lightning. Only it's a lot less powerful but still really painful. Understand?"

Niylah slowly nodded. "I think I understand. How do you propose we do this? We've already made our positions clear to her. That we won't do anything without her permission and that I won't touch her till she's eighteen."

Monroe nodded to Niylah. "Well, I figure that's where YOU come in. Any ideas?"

Niylah chuckled. "Impatient, are we? Something you'll need to learn is that some things take time. Klark is a very complicated case. She's been traumatized over and over again. And she's not willing to trust easy anymore. And that's a good thing, if it means that she's protecting herself. But if you want to find a way of trying to help her to open up, it will take time and patience. And more than anything else, understanding and kindness."

Monroe nodded. Yes. She knew that. Helping someone didn't need love alone. Only a naïve fool would assume that. Helping someone you loved required more than love. Helping someone you loved required everything Niylah had just said. She knew that she, Niylah, Wells and the others would have to all chip in to help. Take the stress off of Clarke whenever they could.

Monroe had seen how Niylah handled Clarke's passive aggressiveness and snide remarks. She had tolerated it as if it was coming from a child trying to scream and throw things. She supposed she should do the same. But Monroe wasn't sure she liked the idea.

Finn said, "Clarke, here, Rae and I are done now." Clarke turned to him and he handed her the radio.

Clarke talked into the radio. "Raven?" She asked, "You still there?"

Raven's voice came, "Yeah, here princess." Clarke knuckled down a growl at the nickname.

She decided that now was as good as any to make sure that Raven knew who was in charge. "Watch it, Reyes." She said coldly, not caring how frigid her voice sounded, "I don't appreciate nicknames. And in case you hadn't noticed, me being the equivalent of royalty on the Ark didn't save me or Wells from being thrown down to the ground to be used as test subjects. Or save my father from being executed when he was just trying to save the rest of the Ark."

There was a cold silence both in the room of the Haunted Mansion and on the radio. Clarke glared at the radio, ready for some lip from the little whiny mechanic. Was it really fair for her to judge people in this timeline, based on things they hadn't done yet? Maybe not, but if you knew what decisions someone was going to make, were you really supposed to have sympathy for them? If someone had met Hitler before the taking of his power in Germany and before the 1230s and there was a chance of stopping him through talking and not shooting, was there even a chance anyone with even a quarter of a brain would do the first of those options and not the second? Of course not. Anyone who even felt a shred of love for humanity at all, even if it was only a little, would know that they would have to kill that mother fucker and fast, before he got the masses screaming for the blood of Jews, Romani, people of the gay community at the time, and anyone who wasn't a blue eyed, blonde haired, white German.

So if Raven was had the potential of getting in the way of the survival of the Ark, and Clarke knew that Raven did, then Clarke was going to…fix that problem, ASAP. Clarke still loved Raven. Even if those feelings were tangled now with resentment, anger and pain. And she wanted to work with Raven. She did. But she just didn't trust Raven.

Raven finally answered over the radio. "I'm sorry. You're right. I forgot about your dad. Just cool down. I'm sorry, okay? I think maybe we had a misunderstanding. Can we start over?"

Clarke paused, feeling confused. Then again, there were times when Raven was able to be almost infuriatingly reasonable. In this timeline, Finn wasn't dead yet. In this timeline, Clarke hadn't killed anyone Raven knew and loved yet. In this timeline, Raven was meeting Clarke newly. But the problem was that Clarke knew exactly how Raven would react, should Finn die. If Finn died that in any way involved Clarke, Raven would instantly blame Clarke. Clarke had no use for people who didn't look at things rationally. But in the meantime, she supposed she could pretend that she had patience for people like that. No need for Raven to know that Clarke had played this game before and knew how to play it to her advantage.

She faked a smile and a pleasant tone of voice when she talked again. "I'm sorry, Raven," Clarke said, not sorry at all, "I shouldn't have been that harsh. This is all still really new to me." Boy, that was the biggest lie ever. That probably had to be the biggest lie she had told yet. "My dad's death is still kind of fresh." Even though she hadn't seen her father get floated again this time around, and so chronologically, her father's death, for her, was far away now, what she said was not a lie. It still hurt like hell. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. Sorry. But I have a name, okay? It's Clarke."

Raven's voice came again, this time hesitant, "Sorry. I didn't realize it was such a touchy thing. Sorry. Clarke. It's nice to meet you. I think."

Clarke chuckled, the humor for real this time. "Thank you for calling me 'Clarke.' I should have been more polite. But it's been a few days, to say the least. Thank you for any help you can give."

Raven's voice was calmer now, "Sure. No problem. I'm sorry for your loss. Your dad, I mean."

Clarke said gently, "Thank you. It's nice to hear someone actually say that who isn't my best friend, Wells. As I said, any help you can give? We're grateful for. If you can help the Ark last long enough to get down to South America, you'd be saving us all."

Raven might have been a fool in some cases, but flattery would make the usually glum mechanic feel like she was worth more than what she had been told her whole life she was worth. And flattery, as Clarke had learned, even before first coming down to Earth in the other timeline, was just another weapon to be used to get your way.

Clarke heard what she had wanted to hear, which was Raven's obviously flattered answer, "I…...thank you, Griffin. I-I'll try, promise. Besides, good luck finding a machine that's been fixed by me that will break anytime soon."

Clarke smirked. There was the confident Raven she needed. Clarke's ability to empathize with Raven was limited. But she needed Raven's confidence for her cooperation. And if stroking the selfish little bitch's ego was what did it, then Clarke supposed she'd do it. "Alright, then," Clarke said, trying to ignore the sadistic desire she felt to wrap her fingers around Raven's neck and choke her, remembering Raven's abusive words after Finn's death, "We need the Ark to get to South America. As far as we know, all the people fled from the bombs to North America. I don't know why North America, specifically. But they did. That's what I've been able to get from some of the people on the ground that we've talked to. So that means that South America should be fairly empty of humans. Hopefully. So I'm thinking maybe bring the Ark to Amazonia. Check it on a map of South America. It's right next to Brazil."

Clarke couldn't be absolutely sure that there were no human beings in South America. But from what she remembered all three Anya, Lexa and Lincoln telling her about the tribes in present day, was that groups of people from all over had fled to North America during the time of the bombs and the radiation or as the Grounders called the radiation-'The blistering fires.' And they said that they had traveled a few times to South America, or as it was called by the Grounders, 'The Green Earth Snake,' called that because the Grounders brought back stories of the rainforest they had seen. And many tribes in the coalition today were from there. That meant that they weren't occupying South America anymore. If that was the case, then Clarke was hoping there was vacancy for the rest of the Ark people.

Raven said after hesitating, "Alright, Amazonia. I'll check the map. Boy, this will be different. I mean, really different."

Clarke chuckled, "Yeah, it WILL be." And she meant that too. She didn't know much about the rainforest, but what little she DID know was that it was very different from the forests she had seen here in North America. Not just warmer weather, but different plants, herbs and animals that were unlike any animals here.

It would take some getting used to, but it was better than being here with a bunch of Grounders, the Mountain Men and the selfish one hundred, wasn't it?

Raven answered, "I'll see what I can do. You hang in there, Clarke. I'll keep you updated. In the meantime, watch out for my boy, Finn, okay?"

Clarke snickered, almost relieved. There she was. There was the pressuring, self-centered Raven that she was familiar with. The Raven that held Clarke accountable for every rainstorm that there was. It kind of was a relief for Clarke to hear Raven say that. At least she didn't have to keep waiting for the manipulations to come. Raven was being pressuring and using obligations right in the open, wasn't even giving false claims that she was willing to be a good person.

"I will, " Clarke said. "No worries." Only so long as Raven got the Ark to the ground. After that, did Clarke really need either Raven or Finn anymore? Not really. That thought almost made Clarke grin in a vicious way. She hadn't thought of that. She hadn't thought of killing Finn and Raven as soon as the Ark was down and the defenses were all up and running to defend them from potential threats till just now. That was intriguing. Killing Finn and Raven would be…..therapeutic.

Raven answered, sounding reassured, "Thanks, Clarke. Here's hoping I'll see you and the others soon. Hang in there."

"Always try to." Clarke said, "You do the same. I'll keep Finn safe till you get down here. Hang tight and take care of the Ark."

Raven promised Clarke and said goodbye. Clarke turned to the others who had all watched with interest. She put her radio away. She smiled a fake smile that she was sure Niylah and Monroe saw through. Maybe Wells did too, in fact, most likely. She turned away from them and eyed the Grounders who had been watching. The Grounders thankfully all looked more intrigued than cautious. That was good. The less frightened the fragile little flowery Grounders were, the less likely they'd freak out and attack.

Clarke had decided it, finding the possibility too desirable not to consider seriously. After the Ark got down and an electric fence was made around their camp and they had the resources they needed, Clarke planned to kill Finn and Raven.

Monroe watched Clarke, as usual. She didn't like that smile on Clarke's face. She didn't know why, but she just didn't. There was something about this new Clarke that really felt dangerous. Not dangerous as in a snake that just wanted to be left alone and wouldn't strike out unless you accidentally stepped on it. No. Dangerous as in she'd go out of her way to hurt you. Kind of like those animal attacks she used to read about on the stories in the Internet that existed on the Ark. She had seen a lot of animals trying to attack her and the other one hundred back in the other timeline, but they hadn't gone out of their way to do it. Usually they were just trying to protect themselves from being hunted.

But there were the exceptions. Like big cats, bears or wolves that attacked people. When she had been living in the back alleys of the Ark communities, Monroe would sometimes break into some computer archive or other to find information on the Ark if she wanted to track down some food or something to sell on the Ark. She'd occasionally find the old stories from the old Earth. About lions that attacked villagers and bears that attacked tourists or jaguars that attacked people every now and then. One story that chilled her had been one about a timber wolf that had tried to make off with a two-year-old boy and most likely would have eaten him too, had his mother and father not beaten the timber wolf into letting the boy go. There were even pictures of the timber wolf. The timber wolf hadn't been killed, it had gotten away from the park patrol officers before they could get to it, but there had been long distance photos of the wolf. The wolf's face had looked more primal than other wolves' faces that Monroe had seen in other pictures. There had been something about that wolf that had really bothered Monroe.

Monroe had actually had a nightmare about that. The weird thing about the dream was that she hadn't been the two-year-old or the witness to the two-year-old almost getting ripped apart, but she had been the timber wolf.

She didn't know why she had had that dream. It had scared her. Was she really in such a vulnerable position on the Ark and so desperate for food, that she would subconsciously cause herself to have a dream about being a timber wolf that would target a two-year-old child as food?

Monroe had never liked that she had had that dream. It had made her wonder if there was some part of her that knew something about her that the rest of her brain didn't know. It made her wonder if she was more bloodthirsty than she had thought.

The smile on Clarke's face right now, it was reminding Monroe of that timber wolf.

It was a smile that said, "Sure, you can trust me. Until you turn your back. Then I'll rip you apart, limb from limb. Because I just fucking want to."

Monroe turned away from Clarke, looking down the hall and seeing that strange, short, white-haired man from before walk back over. She supposed she should have seen all this coming. If someone was betrayed enough times, then it looked like this was just how they turned out. If people were going to treat someone like they were the scum of the earth even though that same supposed scum tried again and again to help, then didn't that mean that Clarke being the way she was now had been inevitable? Maybe. It made Monroe's stomach turn. She hadn't helped as much as she should have. If she had told Clarke how she had felt before, then maybe Clarke would have had something more to hold onto. But she had told Clarke too late. Clarke trusted no one now. Maybe not even Wells entirely.

The short, white-haired man reached Monroe and the others and stopped in front of them. He said in Gonasleng, much to Clarke and Monroe's surprise, "The queens will see you in an hour. After the sun sets, they will speak with you."

Clarke frowned suspiciously. What did the sun setting have to do with anything? Still, she looked at Niylah and Niylah nodded, smiling. It was as if Niylah was sure that everything was going to be alright. It wasn't a look that made Clarke feel comfortable. Her father had had that same look on his face before his death and she had seen how he had ended up.

Her poor father had been such a selfless fool. But then, Clarke knew that that was what made her different than how she had been in the other timeline. She had been a selfless fool. And now she was a wise monster.

She's like to think there was something poetic about that. And there was. In a way. She had been a moron that had hoped the world could be better. The world had more than happily shown that it could not be and would make sure that she was not better either. Now she was going to be the worst of the worst. And she would hurt everyone else. She would rip this world apart as soon as she had the chance.

More thoughts filled Clarke's mind that she knew should have been disturbing, but she realized she wasn't disturbed in any way by them. Killing Raven and Finn after they had landed in Amazonia, South America and bringing up an electrical fence as protection, letting the rest of the Ark people finding the bodies and not knowing who did it, occasionally going back to North America to poison the waters so that more and more Grounders died from sickness. Clarke felt her smirk stretch. Was evil supposed to feel so good?

She had never realized that it could feel good to choose to be a monster.

She wondered, was this what Bellamy, Murphy, Cage and Emerson had gotten out of it?

She enjoyed the feeling of her own murderous thoughts. If this was what a monster felt like when it realized that the whole world could be at its fingertips if it was smart enough, if it was devious enough, then you know what? Clarke realized that maybe there was a good reason to turn dark. She was going to become a serial killer. Hell, she was already a mass murderer, wasn't she? So why not be a serial killer. There was a technical difference, sure. One of them killed hundreds and hundreds of people at once or one after another in close order, and the other killed one person after another. Then again, the poisoning thing would probably count as "mass murder." She thought about that. She smirked even more when she realized that this would be the first time she would be committing genocide in this timeline.

Ooh, new mass murders. What fun. What fucking fun. She supposed she could come back for the Mountain Men after all this and kill all of them. Might even be funny to kill Maya up close with a knife instead of with poison air. She might come back to South America and give Jasper details about it. Her tongue slid along her teeth, as if trying to taste the blood she had yet to spill. Was that too murderous? Too psychotic a thing to do? Well, Clarke had never thought she was a psychopath, but she had been called a monster, a mass murderer, a traitor, a coward and worthless and bringer of death and while she had at one time thought she was not any of those things, she had done a lot of shit. So who was she to say whether she was a psychopath or not?

And why not? What was wrong with her being one? Everyone else got away with being a murderer, child rapist, for Murphy's case it was one, for Bellamy's case, it was both, a traitor, a coward-she'd have to turn to Jasper for that one. Everyone got away with everything. Everyone else escaped justice all the time. Why shouldn't she?

Clarke could feel eyes on her and she turned to see Wells and Monroe watching her, more than a little nervous.

Clarke scowled at them. "What's eating the two of you?" She asked. Wells shook his head.

"Nothing." Wells answered, but Clarke knew that that was bullshit.

Monroe just said dryly, 'You look incredibly happy is all. Well, happy is one word for it."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Mind your own business." She said darkly, feeling a little guilty that she was talking that way to two of the few people that were actually loyal to her.

Monroe turned to Wells who had a hurt look on his face. "Don't take it seriously.' She whispered. "She's just been through a lot. Just give her some time." Monroe wanted to believe her own words. But she wasn't sure she couldn't. The more time she spent around this new Clarke, the more she realized that they might really have a big problem on their hands.

Monroe wanted to hold her, to comfort her. But she knew her gentle touches and warmth would be rejected. This new Clarke was all about instant gratification and was in no way interested in intimacy or love. She was interested entirely in only what she could get out of life physically. Monroe remembered what Niylah had said. But still, seeing Clarke like this, Monroe just wasn't sure understanding and kindness would be enough. She looked at this new Clarke and she saw a bloodthirsty predator.

The white-haired man nodded and said, "If that will be all for now, I will return in an hour to come back and bring you to the queens."

"Yes, yes." Clarke grumbled, waving a hand, still smirking. She looked away from him and checked out the walls covered in black and white photos. The white-haired man turned and walked away.

When he disappeared, Harper said, "Who'd have thought there would be an entire tribe here in Disneyland?"

Clarke chuckled, "Hey, still recovering from the shock too."

Harper watched Clarke, a little mesmerized. She had never met anyone like Clarke before in her life. Harper had grown up on the worse sides of the Ark. She had basically been raised by fellow orphans. Her father had died when she had been eight years old. He had been floated for fighting with a guard and almost killing the guard. Her mother had died when Harper had been twelve. Harper would never say this, but she knew her mother had drunk herself to death and overdosed on anything she could find, too sad by the death of her dear husband. Refusing to be a ward of the place that had gotten both her parents killed, she fled her family's bunk and took to the alleys of the Ark. She had been found by a few other orphans that eventually were thrown into the skybox and executed. But before they had been arrested, they had made sure to look after Harper.

Harper had been protected for almost four years before her "gang family" had been arrested and executed. She had been arrested too, but too young to be floated. And that was how she had ended up here.

She'd have thought that Clarke being one of the privileged few of the Ark, would be more fragile. Would be more scared or entitled. She wasn't. She was direct. She was commanding. She was scary. She was beautiful.

Harper swallowed that thought. She wasn't sure Clarke would be interested in her. Something Harper had learned over the years on the Ark was that she was not straight. Not gay either. She was sure the word was "bisexual." Or pansexual. She wasn't sure which. But she was one of those.

She had slept with some boys on the Ark. But some girls too. She always made sure to use protection. Her "older siblings," had always provided her with condoms that hadn't been used yet, always in the package and made sure that she always used it.

The closest she had to older brothers, "Hawk," "Vernon," "Marc" and "Nathan" and the closest she had had to older sisters, "Sheila," "Kate," "Elizabeth" and "Grace" were all dead now. All eight of them had been floated. Hawk and Vernon had been the oldest, so they had been floated almost instantly after being arrested. Nathan and Elizabeth had been floated next. Then Grace. Then Kate, Sheila and Marc had been next. The last one to be floated had been Sheila. And she had hugged Harper so fiercely when Harper had been brought to see her by the guards that Harper almost thought that Sheila would pull her through the airlock doors to keep Harper from having to live alone. Harper at the time had almost wished that Sheila had done that.

So Harper had nightmares about her two families' deaths for years and years. The deaths of her parents and the deaths of her adoptive family. She really felt like she might have a second chance, when she had been sent down here. She thought she might have a real family again.

But Clarke had proven that a good portion of the one hundred was not to be trusted. The one hundred were trying to get the rest of the Ark killed. And as much as Harper hated Jaha and the council for what happened to both her families, she wasn't going to condemn the rest of the Ark for it.

For every few who were in a position to have people executed like Jaha and Kane and the Griffins and Cartwig were, there were over a million people far more vulnerable on the Ark that were more like Hawk, Grace, Marc and Sheila than they ever would be like the people in the council. There were way more vulnerable people on the Ark than there were the powerful. And if stopping the rest of the Ark from coming down was going to kill all those people, then Harper wanted nothing from the rest of the one hundred.

Her lot was with Clarke now. Even if she was the daughter of two of the most powerful people on the Ark. As Clarke had pointed out, being a child of powerful people hadn't kept her or Wells from being sent down here as experiments and it hadn't saved her father from being floated.

From the sounds of it, being powerful hadn't kept Kane from being floated either. Harper felt like she should have been happy to hear about Kane being floated. But strangely enough, she wasn't. Just more and more death. It made her sad more than anything else.

Harper watched Clarke, now very curious. Clarke was not like anyone she had imagined being from the upper elite of the Ark. She was dangerous, strong, intelligent, experienced and ruthless. It scared Harper. But it kind of also attracted her. It was a silly thing. Harper saw it that way, anyway. It was one of those "silly little girl" things that she had always heard boys sneering about. It was one of the things that Sheila, Grace, Kate and Elizabeth had warned her about while they looked after her. They had warned her that boys would scoff at the things girls liked. Said that it would all be "uncool." They taught her about misogyny. Sexism against women. And they talked about how romance often was called "uncool" because it was something girls liked to talk about.

When Harper realized she liked girls as well as boys, all of her siblings had been proud of her "coming out." They told her to be proud of her sexuality and no matter how much people told her it was wrong, she shouldn't listen.

Harper wondered what Clarke was interested in. Getting the Ark people all down alive, obviously. But besides that. What was she interested in? Did Clarke even like other girls like that?

From the way Clarke had been interacting with Monroe, she was going to have to assume that Monroe definitely liked other girls like that. Or liked Clarke like that, anyway. But Harper didn't know about Clarke. Clarke was dark and frightening and mysterious.

Clarke turned back to Monroe and Harper turned away fast, not wanting Clarke to see that she had been staring. Clarke asked Niylah if she could ask the guards if there was a place where they could sit down. Niylah nodded and turned to the guards, speaking in that other language that she was using a lot. One of the guards nodded and pointed to a bunch of big, bulky, sofa chairs up against the wall opposite from him that were dark red.

Clarke turned to those chairs and looked them over. Harper did too, supposing that if she was interested in Clarke in that way, she ought to pay attention to what interested her.

Clarke looked at the sofa chairs and investigated them thoroughly and nodded. "Alright." She said, "Not that dusty. Don't have to worry about inhaling an entire house worth of dust." She did a quick count of the chairs along the hallway. "There's five chairs. Alright, Pascal, Trina, Harper, Fox, Monty, if you want to, you can sit down first."

Pascal and Trina looked surprised, then nodded. Pascal and Trina went to the first two chairs. Fox hesitated, then eagerly went to the next chair and sat down. Monty offered his chair to Jasper and Harper noticed that Clarke rolled her eyes in reaction to Monty's offer. Jasper took Monty up on the offer and sat down. Harper heard Clarke grumble quietly, "He takes Monty's offer. Why am I not the least bit surprised?"

Harper frowned as she went and sat down in the last available seat. It seemed to her that Clarke really, really didn't like Jasper. She wasn't sure why. Had Jasper done something to Clarke that none of them were aware of?

Harper sat down in the very soft sofa chair, smiling contently at how warm and snug and soft it was. Wow, this was nice. Even with the elite class, there were never any chairs like this one. She wondered how people had made these kinds of chairs back then.

She turned her eyes back to Clarke. Clarke wasn't glaring at Jasper, thankfully, just keeping her attention on the others. "After the others sit down for fifteen minutes tops," Clarke said, "It's Monty, Finn, Wells, Monroe and Niylah's turn to sit down."

Harper thought about that. Sure, it seemed like it was fair, except for one thing. In both groups of people sitting down, wasn't there one person missing in both groups? Clarke was missing. Monroe had thought of this too. She answered, "And when will you get to sit down, Clarke?"

Clarke snorted at Monroe's worry with a wave of her right hand. "Don't get so worked up over me, Monroe. I'll sit down when I want to sit down." Clarke looked over Pascal, Trina, Fox, Jasper and Harper. "Remember. Fifteen minutes tops. If you don't move, I throw you out of your chairs. Understood?"

At the threat, Harper nodded fast and glanced behind her, noticing Jasper and Fox nodding quickly. She couldn't see them, but she had no doubt that Pascal and Trina had nodded too.

Harper wasn't going to question Clarke's authority. She was unquestioningly the leader. Harper wasn't sure that she'd argue that Clarke was a leader by fear alone. She wasn't. Harper was sure of that. She was also practical and thoughtful. Not to mention impassioned. Harper had heard that word more than a few times between her older siblings. She hadn't understood what that word meant, until she saw Clarke verbally tearing into Octavia again and again. Yes. Impassioned. That and other words too.

Harper was intimidated by Clarke, yes, but also intrigued and possibly enamored.

Clarke turned from the five sitting individuals and turned her eyes back to the worried Monroe. She smirked, "I know you're worried, Monroe. But don't be. I'll sit down when I fucking want to."

Wells frowned at Clarke's language, but said nothing. Clarke sighed. She knew that her brother was having a hard time wrapping his brain around what type of person she had become. She knew it was a lot for him to take in. He had just learned that there had been another timeline where he had been dead only a couple of days after coming to Earth and that his sister had been betrayed in every way possible the rest of that time on Earth in the other timeline. That couldn't be an easy thing to acknowledge. Not just that you had been killed but that you weren't there to protect your best friend and sister from all the lies and backstabbing. Wells was going to have to grow up quickly, as the rest of them were going to have to.

A stab of guilt hit Clarke then. She had never wanted this for Wells. Never him. She had wanted him alive and safe and happy. But never this. This world wasn't one that could offer the possibility of being happy, safe and alive all at the same time. It had to be at least two of those. Happiness was relative. So it had to be the other two if you wanted to survive. Clarke knew that if she had to decide for herself, it would be all three. But she knew she didn't have that option. As soon as she thought she had happiness, it was ripped from her. As soon as she had thought she had found safety, it was ripped from her.

This world was built on deception and savagery. End of story. Clarke just hoped that Wells could keep up.

Clarke turned back to the five seated people and noticed something that made her calculated and disturbed thoughts stop. The way Harper was looking at her was….interesting, to say the least. Why was Harper looking at her like that?

Clarke tilted her head at Harper and Harper's cheeks flushed bright pink and she looked away. A slight realization hit Clarke then and she smirked. Well, well, well. Clarke glanced at Jasper sitting behind Harper. Then she looked at Monty. Looked like she had the chance to steal Monty and Jasper's chance with Harper right out from under their noses. Clarke lost her smile and looked only one more time at Monroe and Niylah, before turning back to look at Harper.

If Niylah and Monroe weren't going to act, then Harper it would be. If Niylah was bound by some ridiculous notion of morality and Monroe was bound by some moronic need to get Clarke to open up more, then Clarke didn't have to waste her time on either of them. She wasn't interested in therapy of any kind. She was interested entirely on fucking and fun right now. Harper right now seemed the type to want only that.

Then again, Clarke knew Harper. She was a soft, kind and gentle girl. She most likely would want more than just a physical relationship. Clarke held back a snort. So what? So she broke the bitch's heart. Boo hoo.

Again, that annoying conscience reared its ever-annoying head. (But what did Harper do to you?)

Clarke frowned when she thought that. Nothing. Harper had done nothing to her. That was the problem. She wouldn't even be able to feel comfortable using Harper like that.

She thought about it harder, considering her options. Niylah and Monroe obviously had been her first choices among the group, but they were restrained-ridiculously so as well. And Wells was her big brother. He wasn't an option. Besides, she wouldn't burden someone as kind and selfless as him with her sadistic and uncouth desires. Finn wasn't an option either. It wasn't that she hadn't appreciated how good a lover he was or how considerate he had been or how determined he had been to keep her and their people safe, it was just that doing anything with him would put her and Raven again at an impasse, and she had no use of a compromised mechanic.

Pascal and Trina seemed to be too much of an item to be interested in any third party.

Monty was possibly an option, but she would have to be very careful. Like with Raven and Wells, Monty was good with technology. And his skills were needed. She messed with him too much and he might be compromised. The same could be said if she did anything with Jasper. Jasper and Monty were practically brothers. If she hurt Jasper in any way, that risked Monty's loyalty. So neither boy sounded like a very good option when it came to pragmatic reasons. Besides, the thought of doing anything with someone as simpering and weak and two-faced as Jasper turned her stomach.

That left Fox and Harper. Fox was fragile and timid. Easy to intimidate and far too trusting. Sure, from a practical standpoint, she sounded like a good option. But from the standpoint of the fact that Fox had never done anything to Clarke, Clarke was hesitant to even consider her as an option.

So what about Harper then? She was stronger than Fox, undoubtedly. And most likely would be able to deal with an eventual breakup much better than Fox would be able to. Harper was a strong girl. Clarke knew this from experience from the other timeline. She was willing to fight when need be. She could be ruthless and practical, when need be.

The only question was whether or not Harper would be interested in such a relationship. Clarke had had suspicions before that Harper was by no means straight, even though she had been with Monty before. She suspected Harper was bi. But still, would Harper be interested in a relationship with no strings attached?

It was a gamble, Clarke supposed. But she decided that in order to take what she wanted and to allow her ridiculous little conscience to take a rest, she would try to be delicate about this. She would tell Harper the truth about what she wanted. Just tell her that she wanted no complicated relationship, just wanted a completely string free relationship that was all about fun and sex and nothing else. If Harper refused, then fine. Clarke would accept that refusal with grace and would try to see if she could get some fucking gratification out of some Grounder around here before they took off for South America. If so, great.

Eventually, Clarke checked her watch and when she saw that it had been fifteen minutes she ordered the five people out their chairs and said it was Niylah, Monroe, Monty, Wells and Finn's turn to sit.

Niylah and Monroe both looked at Clarke as Pascal, Trina, Jasper, Fox and Harper got up from the chairs. "You should sit for a while, Klark." Niylah said softly.

Monroe gestured to one of the seats. "You can sit in my seat."

Clarke turned to them and gave them an almost cruel smile. "I don't need either of your concern."

Monroe asked dryly, "It's a minor thing to worry about whether or not your leader has rest?"

Clarke chuckled. "Nice try, Monroe. But I don't see why you should worry about that. After fifteen minutes, I'll boot one of you from the chairs and then I'll sit down. In the meantime, the rest of you do what you're told." There was something cold and hard in Clarke's voice when she said that, and it made all three Wells, Finn and Monty shiver. It didn't make either Niylah or Monroe shiver. Both women looked troubled, yes, but they did as they were instructed.

Niylah sat down and Monroe sat behind her. Wells sat in the front chair, closest to Clarke and she nodded to him. She was somewhat surprised that he hadn't offered her the seat, but the look on his face informed her that he was figuring how to handle this new version of her. He most likely realized that reasoning with her or offerings of niceties wouldn't work.

Wells was staring at her in a way that said that he was trying to figure her out. Clarke smiled sadly at him. Between the person he was now, and who she had had time to become, there would be no real figuring out, she was afraid. She had every intention of keeping Wells innocent. Or as innocent as someone could be, while surviving in this world. Clarke then looked at Niylah and Monroe.

They were watching her watch them. She then turned her head to look at Harper, who was looking at her every now and then. Clarke tried not to smirk. So there were two people supposedly in love with her, she wanted nothing but sex and there was a girl who wasn't in love with her but obviously was interested in her sexually.

What a ridiculous situation they had here. Too bad it wasn't going to end well for either Monroe or for Niylah.

Another fifteen minutes went by and when Clarke checked her watch, she said that someone needed to get "their asses up" so she could sit the "fuck down."

Monroe practically popped up from the seat and moved out of the way so Clarke could sit down in the chair. Clarke walked over and sat down. Monroe smiled as Clarke did so.

Harper glanced at Monroe, seeing the look of utter fondness on Monroe's face. So Monroe definitely had a thing for Clarke, that was unquestionable. Clarke, however, turned from looking at Monroe and Harper and looked down the hall from where she sat, obviously waiting for that white-haired, short man to come back and tell them that the queens were ready for them.

After a few more minutes went by, Clarke stood up and asked Monroe to sit down again. Monroe hesitated, and then complied. She sat down and walked over to stand next to Harper. She glanced at Harper and said softly, "Harper, do you think you can talk for a second?"

Harper looked at Clarke in surprise. "Sure. Why?"

Clarke just shrugged. "Just to talk, you know? That okay?"

Harper nodded. "Sure." Clarke told Jasper, Fox, Pascal and Trina to stay where they were and that she just needed a moment to talk with Harper. She then went to the other end of the hallway, the bulky, red chairs with their backs to her and Harper followed. Clarke ignored some of the stares she and Harper were getting from the guards. What a bunch of weak, little flower Grounders these morons were. They probably would raid a village, then scream and cry like babies when so much as one of them was killed. The Trikru sure acted that way. She really doubted the Luwoda were much different.

Clarke looked at the guards watching her. She eyed them suspiciously. She wasn't sure how many of them spoke Gonasleng-English. But if they did, so what? What would they be understanding that she was doing? Entering a sexual relationship with someone else that was free of emotions. Clarke knew that many Grounders had very sexually liberating lives. So she knew that wouldn't be a problem for them.

She turned her attention back on Harper. "Harper," Clarke started, checking the back of the others' chairs to see if they were looking back. Even if they were looking back, they wouldn't be able to hear what she was saying. "I'm curious about something." Harper nodded, looking a little bashful, but at attention. Clarke smiled, "I just wanted to know if you'd be interested in potentially having…I guess a 'no strings attached' type of relationship." Clarke felt awkward saying something like that. Because she had never ever considered a relationship like that. The first more or less serious relationship she had had, had been with Finn. But even before that, with the other people she had been with on the Ark, she had put in more of an effort to have a somewhat normal relationship. She had never really had had a "fuck buddy" type of relationship with anyone before Niylah, and even that was now compromised because Niylah wanted more with her. Or said that she wanted more.

So this was rather new for her.

Harper looked surprised at the proposition. Clarke knew that while Harper was most likely a more conforming type of girl, in that she preferred her relationships to be more strings than "no strings," but she knew that Harper had had a few flings here and there in the last timeline. Monty, Monroe, Fox. She doubted that Harper would be too offended, even if she wasn't interested.

Harper said quietly, after blinking and laughing quietly, "Actually, I was just sort of thinking that same thing."

"Were you?" Clarke asked, smiling wide. That was very good to know. "You were thinking about it?"

Harper nodded, cheeks now pink. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I know you're busy with trying to keep all of us safe. But I just wanted you to know that I'd like it if we had a relationship. It doesn't have to be serious. I'm good with there being no strings attached. But I just wanted to let you know that I'm interested."

Clarke smiled. "Wonderful. When we get to safety, do you want to start?" Clarke wasn't sure why she had stated that like a business deal. As soon as she said that, she felt like she sounded like even more of a jerk than she already was. Maybe she really HAD become far too calloused over time.

Harper's cheeks darkened, but she didn't look offended. She shook her head. "Do we have to wait till we get to South America? Can't we start now? I mean," She looked self-consciously at the guards around her and Clarke. "It's not like we need to have sex right now, right?"

Clarke chuckled, now grinning. So Harper was eager, huh? This might be easier than she had thought. Just as long as Harper didn't feel any fucking feelings for her. As long as that didn't happen, she and Harper were golden. "So you want a kiss, huh?" She asked playfully, eyebrows rising up suggestively.

Harper's face was now bright red instead of pink and she slowly nodded. "If that's okay." She almost squeaked.

Clarke laughed quietly. Harper was a lot cuter than she thought. Sure, she had always liked Harper, but she had thought in the other timeline of Harper like a little sister to protect. That had been a mistake, she understood now. The one hundred, besides Wells and maybe Monroe and Monty, weren't her family. They were loose ends. They were burdens. They were liabilities that liked to think that they were special. And depending on who they were, like Monty or Finn because of his relationship with Raven, they just happened to be commodities. Nothing else than that.

Harper wasn't her sister. She wasn't family or even a friend. Just a commodity. An ally, and a potential fuck buddy. Really nothing more than that. But she was cute enough for that, and that was all that mattered to her.

"Sure, that's okay, Harper." Clarke cooed, wanting to make sure she gave the illusion that she was affectionate. "Go ahead." She reached her right hand out, offering.

Harper's face brightened and she walked over, taking Clarke's hand in hers and leaned in to kiss Clarke eagerly.

Clarke grinned. It wasn't sex, but it was heading in the right direction. Or….so Clarke thought. Till someone interfered.

Harper was closing in when her eyes suddenly became big and she gasped, being yanked away from Clarke, someone grabbing the girl by the back of her shirt collar.

"What the-?!" Clarke snapped, staring as Harper was pulled away, Monroe now standing there, pulling Harper away, a no-nonsense look on her face as she glared at Clarke.

Clarke was staring now at a pair of dark green eyes almost black with rage. Harper looked back at Monroe, startled. "Monroe, what are you-?" Harper began, but Monroe gave her a sharp look and Harper fell silent.

"Harper," Monroe said, anger in her voice, "Can you give me and Clarke some time alone?"

Harper nervously looked at Clarke and Clarke sighed, nodding. She didn't see anyone else behind Monroe, so that probably meant that Wells and Niylah had kept everyone else back from following. Good. So no one needed to hear anything that they shouldn't. Clarke watched Harper take Clarke's answer and turn around and walk down the hall. When Harper was out of sight, Monroe turned her glare back to Clarke. "What the fuck, Clarke?!" Monroe demanded, voice hard.

Clarke scowled and glanced at the guards. They were still watching and were looking startled at this development, but looked ahead as if they understood that this was in no way their business, so long as this didn't involve their queens or their people being threatened.

The guards, however, proved to be a non-issue, since Niylah walked up and said something to them in Luwodesleng and the guards hesitated, but Tikan was with Niylah and ordered them something in Luwodesleng and they obeyed this time. They each went in single filed behind one another down the hall and turned the corner into the other hall where Wells and the others were.

Clarke frowned. What brought that on? She looked at Niylah. Tikan looked between Clarke and Monroe and nodded to Niylah, talking in Trigedasleng now, "Your two friends will now have the privacy you asked for, Niylah kom Trikru."

"Mochof." Niylah said and she followed Tikan down the hall and they both disappeared.

Clarke turned to Monroe, glaring. "You understood what Tikan said the second time around?"

Monroe nodded. "I asked Niylah to give us some alone time when I realized what was about to happen. So you wanted to talk privately with Harper, huh?"

"Yeah." Clarke said, glaring. "That's none of your business. Like I said, what the fuck?"

"You're asking me 'what the fuck?'" Monroe asked, still sounding like she was somehow the wounded party between the two of them. "What the fuck was THAT?! I just saw you trying to use Harper as a dildo, for fuck's sake. We both know that's not what you want. And we both know that's not what Harper wants."

Clarke scowled disgustedly. Oh, so now Monroe knew her so well that she knew exactly what Clarke wanted? Harper was an open book, even without her and Monroe remembering everything from the other timeline, so whatever she wanted, it would be easy enough for both her and Monroe to know. But Monroe actually was presuming to know what SHE wanted, more than Clarke did?

That was a fucking laugh. Clarke snickered. "Wow, Monroe, it almost sounds like you're jealous."

Monroe shook her head, uncharacteristic anger still present. "I'm not jealous. I'm upset. Understandably. You aren't talking to me or to Niylah or to Wells or Finn about why you're in pain. No, instead you're trying to use Harper as a sex toy."

Clarke scoffed. As funny as the visual that Monroe was giving her of a human being actually being used as a 'dildo,' it really surprised her that Monroe didn't get it. Or if that if she did, she was putting up such a good fuss.

"Even if I AM using Harper as a 'sex toy," Clarke snorted, grinning, "What business is that of yours? You know why I can't talk to Finn. Don't be stupid. Wells is innocent. And I want him to stay that way. Niylah? You're telling me you think I'm going to trust you or her in that way? You're allies. Nothing else. Harper is convenient. She's weak, naïve and available. Will be nothing but a good fuck for me."

Monroe stepped back, looking horrified. Clarke almost laughed hard. Oh, of course, she was going to disgust one of the few people that said they loved her. Sure. Why not? Because that really WAS her luck, wasn't it? She finally decided she was going to take what she wanted out of life and people couldn't deal with that. She tried to do what everyone wanted, she got fucked over. She tried to do what needed to be done to protect her people, she got fucked over. She decided to say, 'fuck everything' and take what she wanted for the first time in ever, and she was fucked over. Go fucking figure.

"What?" Clarke sneered. "Too impolite language? Yeah, I curse now and am vulgar. So fuck you too, Monroe."

Monroe shook her head, a sad look in her eyes now. "I'm not the enemy, Clarke. I know you won't believe that, but I'm not the enemy."

Clarke sighed rolling her eyes. "It's not about whether or not you're the enemy. It's that I can't believe that you're an ally. I've heard the 'I'm not the enemy' bullshit before. It never ends well. Or did you forget? I want to believe you, Monroe. I do. But you understand why I can't, don't you?"

Monroe winced then nodded after several seconds ticked by. "Yes. I do. But even if you don't believe it, it doesn't mean I'm not an ally. I need you to understand why I'm pissed right now, okay? You deserve better than what you were trying to do. Harper deserves better. Both you and Harper deserve better than to use each other. Technically no, it's not my business. But the way you are right now? Doing this will just numb you. And it will hurt Harper."

Clarke scowled. She snorted, "You're one to talk, aren't you, Monroe? From what I heard when I went back into 'Arkadia,' didn't you use Harper too? In fact, didn't you use both Fox and Harper before?"

Clarke saw that her remark hit the mark she wanted to hit. Monroe stared, going pale. "Oh, yeah, Zoe," Clarke sneered Monroe's first name out insultingly, "I heard about that."

Monroe composed herself, looking like she had actually been physically hurt, "You're right. I DID use Harper and Fox. But that's why I know. Okay? I know it's not worth it. Both Fox and Harper deserve better. So do I. And so do you."

Clarke was surprised. She stared at Monroe, not expecting that last sentence. That she deserved better, like Monroe, Harper and Fox did.

Seeing Clarke's look, Monroe pressed her advantage. "You deserve better than to have a loveless relationship. Better than to cut yourself off from your emotions. Using people isn't good for you. You deserve love."

Clarke thankfully got herself together and grinned again at Monroe, snapping, "And how would YOU know what love is like? Because you're such an expert in the subject because you suddenly realized you're in love with me? Let me fucking tell you what love is, Monroe," Clarke looked down the hall to make sure that none of the others were heading their way, then turned back to Monroe. "I'll tell you, Monroe. Love is doing everything, absolutely everything you can to help people. And making alliances with dangerous people for them and then being betrayed by those same people but still willing to do anything for your people anyway. And then when that's not good enough for them," Clarke's teeth clenched together and her eyes were glaring with almost insane rage as she remembered every word of abuse that had been thrown at her, "You try your best to stay out of their hair, both for them and for you. Because seeing them reminds you too much of the horrible things you've done. But when you sacrifice your sanity potentially for them by going back for them, they throw it back in your face and tell you that you STILL haven't done enough. And then they decide you're no longer needed alive. That's love, Monroe. I know what love is. Love kills. That's all. That's what love gets people. So if you think that I deserve love, then you must know that I'm a monster. Because love is poison."

Monroe might have been more worried about Clarke holding a big rifle that was loaded, if it weren't for how she felt her heart breaking with Monroe's words. At Monroe's hurt and wounded look Clarke sighed, unclenching her teeth and shaking her head. "You don't know what love is, Monroe. You tell yourself that you do. But you don't know. If you knew, you wouldn't be this naïve. Love is not beautiful. It's ugly. And painful. It's a razor-sharp knife covered with blood, with a painted smiley face on it, pretending that everything is all happy and cheerful while it hacks away at people."

Clarke watched as Monroe shuddered, obviously shaken by the mental picture she was giving the braided girl.

Monroe sighed, looking sad and forlorn. "I know what love is, Clarke. I do love you."

Clarke shook her head. "You don't love me. You love the old me. You love the Clarke that was. You love the Clarke I was before I realized that love isn't worth it. The Clarke I was before I realized that no, humans don't deserve more than survival. Hell, I'm not even sure humans deserve survival." Clarke smirked and Monroe got the unnerving sense that Clarke was mentally laughing at some kind of private joke.

Clarke met Monroe's eyes and said strongly, "The Clarke you're in love with no longer exists. She's dead." Clarke had that sick smile on her face again, "You're in love with a dead woman, Monroe. You and Niylah. How does it feel? Being in love with someone who's a zombie? Someone who's physically alive but dead on the inside? Wonder what's wrong with you and Niylah if you're in love with someone who's dead. You understand me? The Clarke that I was before is dead. I'm not the Clarke you knew." Clarke now burst out laughing. It was a disturbing laugh.

Monroe felt like someone had stabbed her. Clarke's words felt like a whole iceberg had cracked open and spilled its icy air all around them, all around her. Clarke right there and then was putting a wall of barbed wire, electricity and spikes between her and Monroe and everyone else.

In love with a dead woman? What a disturbing, morbid suggestion. It was also disturbing that Clarke referred to herself as a "woman," not a "girl." Clarke physically was still a child. Seventeen. Hell, even if she got to the age of eighteen, she still technically would be a teenager. Still technically a girl. Not a woman. But Clarke had been through so much, done so much that she was basically now a very tired and exhausted woman who was through with the world. It was disturbing. Clarke was still a girl, but not.

Clarke was putting up fierce shields to keep everyone else out. Clarke might have been right in front of Monroe, but she might as well have been miles and miles away in the south pole. Monroe shuddered. Clarke was miles and miles away. So far away. She had put up so many walls that she knew now, it would take so much more work than just praises and gentle hugs. No. It would take so much more than that. She took a breath. It would need more than that. She knew that now. And all that? She would do. She knew she had to. Because she DID love Clarke.

Monroe looked around the hallway and looked down the hall to the other hall. She saw none of the guards that had been here before. She hoped they weren't listening in as Niylah had instructed them not to. Still, even if they had, what would they have understood? Even if they knew English, what could they get from this conversation? They wouldn't understand what they were talking about. They weren't saying anything obvious. Monroe turned back to Clarke. As long as she didn't say anything about another timeline or anyone dying, she should be safe. Monroe hardened her voice. "I DO love you, Clarke. I love who you used to be. And I love you now. It just means that I need to make time to know this version of you. That's all. Love doesn't just kill. It can heal too."

Clarke scoffed again. "Heal? When has it ever healed anyone? Healing people, I don't think so. But you're welcome to have your illusions. I guess going insane isn't the worse thing to happen to you that you're willing to do it again so that you can pretend that there's anything salvageable in my soul. Or in the world at all."

Monroe didn't know she was capable of so much sorrow. But she felt sad. She felt really sad. A deep almost palpable sadness. Pain. Sorrow. She closed her eyes. How did someone heal a pain like this?

Monroe dug her heels into where she stood. She had to stay strong. She couldn't let Clarke deter her. This was all a shield, a wall. This was just a hard shell she was putting up. Monroe knew she could reach Clarke. She had to. She'd have to reassess everything. Lesson one, this Clarke was a potty mouth. It would take some getting used to, but she could roll with it. Lesson two, this Clarke was very base. She had given up so she only cared about the base things in life. Fine. She could work with that. Lesson three, she was violent. That might be a problem. Lesson four, she was totally pessimistic. Definitely a problem. But Monroe might be able to work with that. Lesson five, she wasn't letting anyone in, period. That was a BIG problem.

Monroe nodded, "Then if you'll allow me, you won't stop me from trying to love you? Even if you don't believe me?"

Clarke snickered, and nodded. "Fine. Knock yourself out. Have fun with that."

Monroe smiled, despite how cold it still felt in the hallway. She hadn't realized just how bad things were. But she knew now. And Clarke wasn't going to try to stop her.

"Thank you," She said, "But leave Harper and Fox out of your sexual fantasies," Monroe continued, "Or I'll tell the others about Octavia."

Clarke blanched. "What do you mean by that? You weren't there."

Monroe shook her head, smirking. "I wasn't. But are you really going to expect me to believe that Octavia just ran off? Niylah, Wells and I might be all on the 'hate on Octavia and the other one hundred train,' but Fox, Harper, Finn, Jasper, Monty, Pascal and Trina aren't. And I know you need Monty and Finn. Finn because of Raven, more or less, but you need them both."

Monroe watched as her words hit the mark. Clarke stiffened and she glared at Monroe, realizing she was stuck. Clarke actually hissed as she realized that Monroe legitimately had something on her. Monroe nodded to Clarke, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this. But don't involve Fox or Harper in this. You want to keep Wells innocent? Fox and Harper are my Wells."

Clarke scowled. "I never slept with Wells. He's my brother. My relationship with him is the only thing about me that can be called 'pure.'"

Monroe sighed, "And I want to only have a sisterly relationship with Fox and Harper now. I will keep them innocent. And I'll do that if I need to. Even if I have to bring up Octavia."

Monroe felt like she had just stepped in trash. Hell, she felt like she WAS trash. She felt like every abusive thing her father and all the higher up people on the street said about her was true. That she was lower than trash somehow. She was blackmailing the girl she was in love with. But how did you reason with someone who was a self-acclaimed member of the undead and claimed that they no longer had their soul?

How did you help someone like that when they wouldn't allow themselves to be helped?

"Clarke," Monroe said, pain in her voice, "I'm sorry. I'm really, so sorry. I DO love you. But I have to protect Fox and Harper. And you know what? It's good that I'm doing this. Because you using Fox or Harper won't help you either. I'm protecting you too."

Clarke stared hard at Monroe. "Sure doesn't fucking feel like it, you damned bitch."

Monroe shrugged. "Is that supposed offend me? Don't forget, I'm a runaway. I had to raise myself practically. I've been called a lot worse. And so have you. But if we're getting personal, I think you should just use specifics. I might be a damned bitch, Clarke, but I'm YOUR damned bitch."

Clarke snorted. This girl was certifiable. She couldn't believe this shit. She then looked at her gun and only then did Monroe tense. Shit. Was Clarke really going to shoot her?

Monroe shook her head. "Clarke," She said carefully, "Don't." There was too much riding on this different timeline. If they started turning on each other...

A small cough caught both Clarke and Monroe's attention, making Monroe turn around and Clarke look past Monroe's shoulder, interrupting the potential danger. It was Wells. He was stepping out from behind the other wall and waving for them to come over. Clarke scowled at Monroe as Monroe turned back to her. "This isn't over."

Monroe nodded. "I didn't expect it to be."

Monroe and Clarke went over to the opposite hallway to join Wells, Niylah and the others and the guards that had moved away from the hallway where Monroe and Clarke had been talking moved back to their places in the hallway.

The guards gave Clarke and Monroe suspicious looks but didn't question what they had been talking about.

When Clarke and Monroe reached the others, they saw that the white-haired man had joined them again. Harper was blushing and looking away from Clarke and Monroe. Clarke ignored her and Monroe looked guiltily at the younger girl. The man greeted them with his usual, mysterious smile and started talking again. Again, there was a low, British accent, much to Clarke's surprise, but she had been sure she had heard that accent when he had talked before. It was just more obvious now. "The queens will be ready in a few moments. So I can take you to see them now."

Clarke came over and nodded. "Good then. Lead the way, I guess." Clarke gave Monroe a cold smile that Monroe didn't respond to and turned back ot the white-haired man.

The man nodded and turned around, leading the way as Clarke had told him to do. Clarke, Niylah, Monroe, Wells and the others followed closely.

Wells was giving Monroe a look that said, (you're going to tell me what's wrong with Clarke at some point, right?)

Monroe sighed. She hated to say it, but she suspected she'd have to tell Wells what had just happened. Clarke was messed up. Like really fucking messed up. She most likely needed more help than just Monroe could give her. If Clarke's best friend and brother could help, then shouldn't Monroe tell him just how bad the situation really was? She nodded to Wells and mouthed, 'later.' Wells looked skeptical, but nodded back.

Pascal looked back at the other guards and saw how they were looking out the windows of the mansion at the setting sun. He followed the others, with Trina next to him as always, but was troubled. Why were the guards so interested in the setting sun? He could tell that that was what had their interest. One of them was looking out the doors, holding the doors open and others were looking the windows.

Pascal turned away, seeing the other guards smirking at them, as if there was something that they couldn't wait for their "guests" to see.

He stepped closer to Trina protectively. If anyone tried to hurt him or one of the others, he'd fight with every inch of strength he had. He hadn't been lying to Clarke when he said he knew how to prioritize. He did. More than Clarke probably thought. He knew he respected Clarke. Sounded like she knew what she was doing, even if she was kind of a hard ass. It looked like she was looking out for all of them. If that meant helping her kept all of them alive, then Pascal would help her.

As they walked, Pascal felt something like a strong metal under the carpet that his feet were hitting. He realized that that must have been what his feet were touching. Hard pieces of metal. Metal tracks. This used to be a Disney ride, so obviously there were metal tracks where the small cars that people had ridden in through this ride. So yeah, tracks under the rug wasn't such a weird thing to find. But it still felt weird under Pascal's feet. While Pascal and Trina, the last of the group in line, walked past the threshold of the room where the white-haired man was leading them, they came to a stop in front of a big room, almost circular, except for a hall that led elsewhere and there was a small, round table up against the wall, with a glass orb in the middle on a round pedestal. In the middle of the room, there were two metal thrones. Both, everyone noticed, empty.

Clarke looked at Niylah and Monroe when she didn't see anyone in those thrones. She then looked at the thrones. There was no one here? "I'm sorry," Clarke said, voice hard as she looked at the white-haired man. "Are these queens invisible?"

"Klark," Niylah whispered, shaking her head. Clarke smirked at her. Did Niylah think anyone was going to control her now? Uh-uh.

The white-haired man turned around, his angular face haughty, a pleasant smirk on his lips. "Please forgive me for not mentioning before," Clarke had noticed before but hearing him now his accent, which as she had noticed before was British sounding-which was really weird, was far more prominent than she had thought. She also noticed something that she hadn't noticed before. Even though the man had some kind of clips around his hair, making the hair block his ears, it looked almost like there were two sharp, points sticking out through the man's man of hair, like he had pointed ears. "One of the queens has a…I suppose you could say, an affliction that needs to be tended to when the sun goes down. One of the queens will be out soon."

"Affliction at night?" Pascal asked, snorting, "What? Is one of the queens a fucking vampire?"

Clarke snickered, laughing. She hadn't expected to find that so funny, but you know what? It was. It really fucking was.

To their surprise, the white-haired man still had a straight face on. He shook his head, "No, not quite." He answered. "She's…different is all. As are her two wives. But you'll see why soon."

Suddenly, outside, there were the clinks of what sounded like stone cracking. It was muffled by the building, but sounded like it was coming from everywhere. Then the sounds of multiple roaring cries made the building rumble. Clarke gasped and gripped her rifle. Everyone else, except for Niylah, gripped at their weapons. Clarke looked to Niylah, looking dubious. Niylah smiled. "It's alright, Klark." Niylah said gently, "You'll see why this tribe is different from the others soon. They're special." Niylah's words didn't put Clarke at ease. Mainly because that roaring animalistic noise outside? It was still going. Roars, similar to roars of tigers or bears snarling their heads off were bellowing outside and it sounded like a whole pride of lions or something had decided to come to the Luwoda tribe to terrorize the Luwoda's guests.

Just then, a woman's cries rang out, then another animal like snarl roared through the room. Clarke kept her rifle close, pulling the safety off the gun. "What the fuck?" She demanded, looking at the white-haired man. Niylah lay her hand over the barrel of Clarke's rifle.

"It's alright, Klark," Niylah repeated. "I told you. The Luwoda are different. They're different because beings that are not human protect them. Remember those statues outside? They weren't statues."

Clarke stared at Niylah. What the fuck? Had…..had Niylah just led them into a trap of some kind?

Wells and Monroe both had their weapons at the ready. "What IS that noise?" Wells asked, nervous.

Niylah smiled, "You'll see." Harper, Fox, Trina and Pascal all clustered close together, Pascal holding the grenades close. Jasper and Monty, both whimpering in mild terror, got closer to Monroe, Niylah and Clarke, hoping they'd be protected.

Monroe went around Clarke's back to stand next to her, so that Clarke was protectively between her and Niylah, with Wells at her back.

When the roaring started to die down, both from outside and from the room up front where they were hearing the noise coming from-Clarke realized that the snarling was similar to leopard, jaguar or panther hissing, there were the sounds of footsteps in the room up front, then the creaking open of a door.

The door to the next room, just behind the thrones was opened up and two figures came through. One of them, as Niylah had warned Clarke, was not human.

Everyone should know, Raven and Finn will be fine. Clarke might be thinking about homicidal things right now. But Raven and Finn will be fine.