The storm above the canopy was relentless with thunder rolling through the sky as sheets of rain hammered against the metal hull of the Dropship. Inside, the faint hiss of static crackled to life once more.
"Clarke, can you hear me?"
Abby's voice cut through the interference, faint but clear again.
Clarke exhaled in relief, clutching the radio. "Yeah, I hear you. I've got Finn right in front of me, knife's still lodged in his side. You said not to pull until we're ready, right?"
"That's right," Abby replied. "You have to keep the pressure steady or you risk rupturing his artery. Be careful, Clarke if you pull wrong, it'll make it worse."
Clarke nodded even though her mother couldn't see her. "Got it."
Jason stood silently nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. His eyes stayed on Finn's pale face, his chest rising and falling shallowly. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the burnt tang of smoke from the storm outside.
"Alright, let's do this," Clarke murmured.
"Hold him steady," Abby instructed.
Raven took Finn's upper body while Jason moved close and held his legs, pressing them firmly to keep him still.
"You've got this, Clarke," Jason said softly, his tone even, grounding her as much as it was guiding her.
She nodded once and wrapped her hand around the hilt. The instant she pulled, Finn's body jerked violently, a guttural groan breaking from his throat.
"Hold him down!" Clarke hissed, sweat breaking on her brow.
Jason didn't flinch. His grip tightened, pinning Finn's legs as Raven steadied his arms. Outside, the thunder boomed again. The Dropship trembled. Clarke gasped as the floor lurched under them and she along with Raven stumbled, nearly losing her grip.
Jason moved faster than thought as he caught the knife mid-motion and pulling it free in one fluid movement.
"There we go," he muttered, voice calm as he tossed the blood-slick blade aside. "It's out."
Clarke blinked, stunned for a second before regaining focus. "Octavia! The wire!"
"On it!" came her voice from above. Moments later, she scrambled down the ladder, hands clutching the thin metallic spool.
Jason disinfected his hands again and held the wire steady as Clarke began to stitch. The wound was deep, ugly, and red but not beyond saving.
"Why's he so warm?" Raven asked, voice shaking.
"He's burning up," Clarke whispered, checking his pulse. "Mom, his color's wrong. He's not stabilizing—"
Static. Then silence. The radio died again.
Jason glanced up. "Storm must've fried it."
"I need a break," Clarke muttered, stepping back. Abby's absence hit harder than she wanted to admit.
Jason watched her walk toward the ladder. He could read it all over her, it was the exhaustion, the fear, the weight of leadership pressing her down like an anchor and ofcourse her knowledge of why her father died. But he stayed silent. Sometimes, silence said more than sympathy ever could.
He turned back to Raven, who sat rigid beside Finn. Her eyes darted to his chest.
"Hey," Jason said quietly, resting a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't move, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "He's tougher than he looks. Finn's not going out that easy."
Raven swallowed hard, eyes glistening, and nodded faintly.
Before Jason could speak again, Finn's body jerked violently.
"Clarke!" Raven screamed. "He's seizing!"
Clarke spun around and bolted down the ladder. Jason and Raven both tried to keep Finn still, but the convulsions were too strong.
"Get my mom back on the radio!" Clarke ordered.
"It's dead!" Raven yelled back, voice cracking.
Jason's hands pressed down on Finn's shoulder. "He's choking—"
"Help me get him on his side!" Clarke barked.
Raven froze, panic rooting her to the floor. Jason didn't hesitate as he immediately shifted Finn's body with swift movement, rolling him onto his side. Clarke moved in close, watching his breathing.
"There's fluid in his lungs," she whispered.
"Does that mean the knife hit something?" Raven asked.
Clarke shook her head. "No… this isn't blood. It's something else. I've seen this before…"
Jason picked up the blade again, his expression dark. "Poison."
"Clarke, you sterilized everything," Raven said, voice trembling.
"Not everything," Jason replied quietly, holding the knife up.
Clarke's eyes widened. "Stay here."
She grabbed the blade from his hand before he could stop her and climbed the ladder. Jason followed without a word to ensure the matter doesn't get out of hand.
The second level was chaos.
"Bellamy!" Clarke's voice echoed as she climbed, pounding on the upper hatch.
"Octavia?" Jason called.
"They locked it!" she yelled back, frustration in her tone. Clarke banged harder.
"Bellamy! Open it!"
Jason stepped forward, expression unreadable. "Let me."
He slammed his hand against the hatch with enough force to rattle the entire structure. The latch gave way instantly as the door burst open and the guard behind it was thrown back with a crash. Jason stepped through as the others froze in stunned silence.
Clarke and Octavia followed close behind.
"What's going on up here?" Clarke demanded.
Bellamy stood by the bound Grounder, his face was full of grim and his hands bloodied.
"What's on this?" Clarke raised the knife.
"What are you talking about?" Bellamy shot back.
"He poisoned the blade," Jason said from behind her.
Bellamy turned toward the Grounder, rage burning behind his eyes. "Then he knew. He knew Finn would die no matter what we did."
Clarke's tone cracked with desperation. "What is it? Is there an antidote?"
Octavia stepped forward, voice softer. "Clarke, he doesn't understand you."
Jason's gaze flicked toward Lincoln. 'Oh, but i bet he does.'
Bellamy tore through a satchel of vials and herbs scattered nearby. "It's gotta be here somewhere!"
Clarke grabbed one. "Which one saves him?" she demanded, her voice trembling.
The Grounder said nothing. His eyes, dark and calm, lingered on Octavia instead.
"Talk!" Bellamy shouted, stepping closer.
"Bellamy, no!" Octavia yelled, grabbing his arm.
"He wants Finn to die! Why can't you see that?" Bellamy's voice cracked with fury. He turned to Clarke, pleading and broken. "Do you want him to live or not?"
Clarke didn't answer.
Jason stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Lincoln. There was no fear there only a steady calm. The kind of calm a man held when he'd already accepted his fate.
Octavia's voice was barely above a whisper. "Please, Clarke… don't let him do this."
The storm thundered above them, the sound reverberating through the Dropship like a heartbeat.
And then Clarke looked at Bellamy. Her expression hardened.
Jason's jaw tightened.
In that split second, as Bellamy raised his fist and Octavia cried out, Jason caught Lincoln's gaze.
Recognition flickered between them with a silent understanding.
Jason thought grimly to himself, 'So this is who you are… Lincoln.'
————————
The grounder's chest rose and fell in slow, labored breaths.
Bellamy crouched nearby, jaw tight, his hand trembling as he tore a strip of fabric from one of the belts they had scavenged earlier. The sound of the leather tearing filled the silence like a blade being drawn. He stood up with his boots scraping against the metal floor and stepped toward the captive.
Without a word, he reached down and sliced open the front of the grounder's shirt, revealing a network of scars and tattoos with each one telling a story of war, pain, and survival. Bellamy's eyes narrowed, his tone dripping with contempt as he lifted the belt.
"Look at him," Bellamy sneered. "You think this savage cares about Finn? About any of us?"
"Bellamy, no. Please."
Octavia's voice broke through the heavy air. She stood behind Jason, hands trembling and eyes wide with desperation. "Don't do this."
Bellamy didn't answer. The belt snapped through the air with a sharp crack, ready to strike. But before it could land, a hand shot out, catching the belt mid-swing. The sound of leather halting midair echoed through the room like a gunshot.
Jason stood there, his grip firm, his expression unreadable.
"Listen to your sister Bellamy… no," he said quietly, but there was an edge to his tone.
Bellamy froze, then slowly turned toward him. "No?" he repeated, disbelief flashing across his face before it twisted into frustration. "No? You didn't hesitate when it was Charlotte, Jason. So tell me why now? Why the grounder?"
Jason didn't respond. His eyes flicked from Bellamy to the man tied up who now looked up at him with a strange calmness. Jason tilted his head slightly, studying him before yanking the belt free from Bellamy's grasp.
"I said no," Jason repeated, his voice low, final.
Clarke, who had been pacing near the scattered medical vials, stepped forward urgently. "Which one is the antidote?" she demanded, her voice cracking as she crouched in front of Lincoln. "You understand us, don't you? Just tell us!"
Lincoln's lips stayed sealed. Sweat dripped down his face.
"Just tell them," Octavia said softly from beside Jason, her voice trembling with emotion. "Please. Just tell them…"
But still, silence.
Bellamy exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before turning to Clarke. "He's not gonna talk unless we make him. If that doesn't work then maybe this will."
He reached into a box and pulled out a long, thin nail, his expression grim. "Clarke, you don't have to be here for this."
"I'm not leaving until I get that antidote," Clarke said firmly. Her eyes were red, her hands shaking as she pointed at the vials. "Finn's dying, Bellamy."
Bellamy nodded once, then glanced at Jason. "You sure you want to protect him now?"
Jason sighed heavily and looked at the stubborn man. "Just do it."
With that unspoken permission, Bellamy pressed the nail to Lincoln's hand and, without hesitation, drove it straight through his palm. The grounder's scream ripped through the dropship, echoing down the metal walls like a dying animal's cry. Clarke flinched but didn't look away. Bellamy's jaw was set, his expression cold.
Moments later, Raven came clattering up the ladder, panic written all over her face. "Clarke! He's getting worse. His pulse is dropping!"
"Which one is it?" Clarke yelled again at the grounder. "Please, which vial is the antidote?!"
No answer.
Frustration boiled in Bellamy's eyes as he grabbed the table, knocking vials to the floor. "We're wasting time!"
"Wait," Jason muttered, stepping forward. He looked Lincoln in the eyes, those dark that looked unyielding and spoke softly but firmly. "You do understand us… so you'll understand this. Tell me which one is the antidote, and we'll avoid something drastic."
For a moment, silence.
Then Raven's voice broke through again from below. "Clarke! He's crashing!"
Bellamy cursed under his breath and turned away, but Raven, her mind racing, grabbed the bundle of blue wires she'd been working on earlier. "If pain's the only language he understands, then fine let's make it loud."
"Raven, no—!" Jason moved to stop her, but she was already connecting the wires to the grounder's chest. The moment the circuit completed, the lights flickered and dimmed. A violent jolt of electricity surged through Lincoln's body and through Jason as his hand brushed one of the wires. The current shot up his arm, forcing him to almost stumble back, his muscles locking before he forced his body to obey him.
He ripped the wire away, gasping. "Raven… no."
The grounder's body trembled with pain, but when Jason met his eyes again, something shifted. The fury there was replaced with something else, focus. Recognition.
Jason exhaled slowly and turned his gaze toward the knife Clarke had dropped earlier. He picked it up and turned toward Octavia. He leaned close, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Do you trust me?"
Octavia met his eyes then nodded. "Yes."
"Then use this," he whispered, pressing the knife into her palm.
"What?" she whispered back, confused.
"He didn't hurt you before. There's no way he'll let you die now. Not from this." Jason's tone was steady, sure. This was his plan.
Octavia's hand trembled around the knife as she looked at Lincoln again. His eyes met hers, the faintest flicker of something human in them.
Then she made her choice.
"No!" she shouted, grabbing everyone's attention. Before Bellamy could reach her, Octavia dragged the blade across her arm in one clean stroke.
"Octavia!" Clarke screamed.
"Octavia, no!" Bellamy's voice broke, horror flooding his face. He surged forward, but Jason caught him by the chest and shoved him back.
"Wait."
Blood welled from Octavia's arm, but she stayed focused, breathing heavily as she held the knife down and looked at the vials lined up on the crate. "He won't let me die," she whispered.
"Octavia, what the hell did you—" Bellamy's voice faltered, his hands trembling.
Octavia pointed to one of the vials. "This one?" she asked, looking up at Lincoln. Nothing. She moved to the next, then the next.
Finally, Lincoln's gaze lifted slightly, just enough to stop her hand. She froze. "This one," she breathed, holding it up. "This is the antidote."
Lincoln nodded once.
"Clarke, go!" Jason barked. Clarke and Raven sprinted down the ladder with the vial, disappearing below.
Jason tore a rag from his sleeve and wrapped it tightly around Octavia's bleeding arm. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Octavia gave a shaky smile. "Thank you."
Bellamy dropped to his knees beside her, reaching out instinctively. "Don't touch me," she snapped through her tears. He froze, his hand falling away.
For a long, heavy moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of electricity still fading from the wires and the echo of the storm outside.
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