CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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THE EXTRA PIECE OF TARP HAD BEEN DRAPED over his body, Taylor shaking slightly as she closed his eyes and covered his unmoving form. The storm was getting bad enough to where they were unable to bury Atlas right away. She couldn't help but feel guilt over his death, guilt over killing the Grounder. It consumed her.

Someone touched her arm while she stared down at the now shapeless body and she looked up to find Clarke glancing at her with a tired expression. She had just finished helping Chandler with his arrow wounds.

"He's going to be okay, at least. But could you help me with Finn?" she asked, looking down at the floor as if she expected Taylor to say no.

"Wait, what happened to Finn?" Taylor questioned, a sudden panic rising in her stomach. Clarke gestured for her to follow as she lead her through the crowded ship. They reached near the ladder, where Finn lay on a metal table with a knife sticking out of his torso. She inhaled sharply and shook her head.

"Can anyone hear me?" Raven spoke into the radio nearby, still just as desperate as before. The thunder outside and the pour of the rain against the ceiling somehow made the situation more dire. And she only assumed that this would make it even more inopportune to contact the Ark.

"I'll help however I can," Taylor assured Clarke with a nod, still staring down at Finn. She didn't think that she could handle him dying, not after everything. Clarke quickly explained how Raven was trying to get in contact with the Ark because she urgently needed to speak with her mother - a doctor - in order to save Finn's life.

"This is a restricted channel. Who is this? Please identify yourself," an official sounding voice demanded from the other side of the radio. The two's eyes widened, Clarke hurrying over to stand next to Raven and the radio while Taylor stayed near Finn.

The group of people on the level all crowded near the radio, eager to hear what was going on. "This is Raven Reyes. I'm from Mecha Station," she answered, still tense sounding but relieved that they had managed to get in contact with them. "I'm transmitting from the ground. The hundred are alive. Please, you need to get Dr. Abby Griffin. Dr. Abby Griffin, now."

She couldn't exactly help the fact that she tuned out for the next few moments while Clarke reunited with her mother over the radio quickly and began to brief her on the situation. The same aggressive mantra repeated in her head over and over again. You killed him, you killed him, you killed him. As she stood there a plethora of questions arose in her head.

Was she a bad person for protecting her life and the lives of those around her? Did that matter? Taylor shook away the thoughts, knowing that people were still relying on her and she needed to pull it together. Finn. She was still shocked as she saw him there lying defenseless and dying. How did it even happen? Where was Bellamy? Had they failed just as she had? She decided that asking questions she didn't have the answers to wasn't making her feel any better.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Abby's voice over the static-filled radio. "I'm gonna talk you through it step by step," she said, her voice sounding distant and crackled over the device. Clarke glanced at Taylor and seemed to have noticed her small daze and she nodded at her, signaling that she was ready to help.

The ship shook violently, the creaking of metal dangerously audible. Abby's next words cut in and out, the fragments of words they actually did receive were barely understandable.

"What?" Clarke called out loudly. "Raven, what's wrong?"

"It's not the radio. It's the storm," Raven clarified, looking back at the other two with an anxious demeanor. Taylor began to pace back and forth beside the table, shedding her jacket and placing it against the wall of the ship. Her shirt was still covered in a terrifying amount of blood and so were her hands.

The tarp was pushed back and Octavia was the one to enter, holding two containers carefully. She set both down on another table next to Clarke. Taylor was overcome with shock and relief. She had a sickening feeling the whole time that she had left Octavia, but she had really been there the whole time.

Without a word, she hurried up to her and wrapped her in a bone crushing hug and let out an airy breath of happiness. "You're okay," she muttered with a small smile.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she responded, pulling away and giving Taylor her own grin in return. "Bellamy and the others found me."

"Wait, where were you? How did this happen to Finn?" she asked, glancing down at the unconscious boy. "Did the Grounders take you?" Octavia nodded, but when a horrified look appeared on Taylor's face, she shook her head.

"No, don't worry. He wasn't trying to hurt me. He saved me," she elaborated with a look that almost begged her to believe what she was saying.

"It doesn't matter, you're here and you're safe," Taylor sighed. Octavia's eyes drifted down to Taylor's shirt and her eyes widened slightly.

"Are you okay?" she questioned with a concerned tone.

"Don't worry about me. Most of it - it isn't mine," she told her quickly. Clarke came over and picked up one of the containers that Octavia had brought in and took a sniff of it. She jerked her head back and crinkled her nose.

"Monty's moonshine?" she guessed. Octavia nodded in confirmation.

"Pretty sure no germ could survive it," she pointed out in a joking tone. Taylor was just glad she was finally back and was okay. A large crack of thunder rumbled across the sky, resonating even in the ship as it shook once more.

"The storm's getting worse," Clarke pointed out, intently focused on pouring some of the moonshine into a bowl with a worn piece of cloth next to it. "Monroe, close the doors."

"We still have people out there," Monroe objected. Taylor knew this feeling well, having felt the same reluctance when she closed the doors as a result of the acid fog.

"Monty and Jasper still aren't back yet," Octavia added as she helped Taylor and Clarke get the table with the supplies to help Finn organized. "Neither is Bellamy."

"It's all right. They'll find somewhere to ride it out," Clarke assured her. Taylor could only wonder what they were doing out there, Bellamy especially. She just hoped Clarke was right because she wasn't too eager to go out with another search party again anytime soon.

"Look, one suture needle." Raven came pushing through the surrounding people, handing a long needle to Clarke.

"Right. I still need something to close the wound."

"There's some wire on the second level, I used it for the tents," Octavia suggested, still busy with the other instruments.

"Let's see it," Clarke confirmed. Octavia nodded and started to head to the ladder.

"Stay away from the blue wires that run through the ceiling. I rigged them to the solar cells on the roof," Raven warned. "That means they're hot, you got that?"

"Yeah, I got that," Octavia snapped back, clearly not enjoying the tone that Raven was speaking with. Taylor couldn't exactly blame her considering the state that Finn was currently in. Clarke finished prepping and wrung her hands with a jittery air about her.

"Tell me you can do this," Raven said more quietly, looking for the assurance that they all desired in that moment. Before Clarke could respond to Raven, someone yelled from nearby.

"Hey, they're back!"

Bellamy was the first one to push back the tarp. Behind him were two others, dragging along a remarkably unresponsive body.

"Bellamy!" Octavia called out from her position halfway up the ladder. The two threw the body to the ground and Taylor's eyes widened immensely.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded, stepping up to Bellamy. For a moment he looked relieved at the sight of her, but his gaze was torn to Octavia who fired off the next question.

"What the hell are you doing?" she inquired as she walked over to where they stood around what Taylor now recognized as a Grounder. She wished that she hadn't felt the situation to be eerily similar to when she had been standing with a Grounder at her feet earlier that day.

"It's time to get some answers," Bellamy answered in a sure tone. The whole thing made her feel uneasy and she wasn't quite certain about how she felt about any of it.

"Oh, you mean revenge?" Octavia retorted, not seeming to be willing to accept any reason Bellamy might give for what he was doing.

"I mean intel," he rebutted, keeping his face as stony as possible. "Get him upstairs." Clarke turned to him and looked at him disapprovingly.

"Bellamy, she's right," she agreed.

"Clarke, honey, we're ready," Abby's voice spoke from the radio, a great deal clearer than it had been before. Bellamy's expression dropped and Taylor could see the apparent dismay in his face. "Can you hear me?"

Clarke looked back at the radio with a sigh before facing Bellamy again. "Look, this is not who we are," she demurred. Taylor nodded her head along with what Clarke was saying, this being one of the few and rare times she actually completely agreed with her. A pause fell upon them, each of them staring at Bellamy in anticipation for an answer.

"It is now," he replied before turning away and starting to head upstairs. Taylor huffed and grabbed his arm with a grunt and gave him an incredulous look.

"You're right, we need intel. But this is not the way to get it," she told him. "Clarke's right. It's not who we are. Or at least it isn't who we should be."

"How else are we supposed to get it?" he questioned with a look in his eyes that told her this wasn't his favorite option either. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head and marched back over to Clarke, who was now speaking to her mother. "The blade is at a sharp upward angle between the sixth and seventh ribs," she explained, putting all of her focus now on helping Finn. Raven and Taylor simply stood by, not quite knowing how to help just yet due to their utter lack of medical expertise.

"Okay, how deep?" Abby pushed further.

"I can't tell how deep it goes," Clarke replied, stepping closer to the knife. The only thing that was visible was the hilt, and that was no indicator how deep the knife could have been.

"That's all right. Just don't remove the knife yet," Abby cautioned before going silent again. Clarke grabbed one of the containers that Octavia brought in and poured the moonshine over her hands. Raven began to pace and Clarke held out the liquid, offering it to her.

"Here, sterilize your hands. Both of you," she ordered quietly. Raven took her gloves off and threw them across the room, taking a hearty swig of the drink before pouring it on her own hands and passing it to Taylor.

She poured it over her hands and scrubbed them together roughly. That with the addition of more of the moonshine seemed to take all of the blood off of her hands and she deemed them sufficiently sterilized.

A few boys behind Clarke started pushing at each other, clearly in a heated argument. "Damn it!" she exclaimed, glancing back at them and then over to Raven. "Clear the room."

Raven wasted no time in approaching the crowd and pointing to the second level of the ship. "Everyone, upstairs! Now! Let's go!" she yelled, some giving her bitter looks and others not particularly caring. Clarke gently rested her hand on Finn's damp forehead and shot Taylor and worried look.

"He feels a little warm," she reported to Abby, the nervousness that was in her voice before making a slow but steady return.

"Okay, that's all right. Fever sometimes accompanies a trauma," Abby assured. "Clarke, I need you to tell me if there is any fluid leaking from the wound." Clarke leaned down and Taylor lightly shifted the rag that surrounded the knife in order for her to get a better assessment of the wound.

"Uh...no," she responded.

Abby mumbled a few words, which Taylor figured to was some sort of medical assistant or other person in the room, but they came across incoherent. "That's good. Actually, that's really good. He got lucky." Taylor, Raven, and Clarke let out almost simultaneous sighs of relief.

"Hear that? You're lucky," Raven smiled, leaning closer to the boy's sleeping form. It hadn't been hard for Taylor to figure out that they were an item from the way they had acted on Raven's very first day on the ground, which seemed to be a problem for Clarke considering they also seemed to be something from the beginning as well.

"Okay, Clarke, firm grip on the knife," Abby finally said, allowing the actual removal of the knife to begin. Taylor could feel her hands start to shake slightly, the fear that Finn could die invading every part of her. "You're gonna need to angle it upward to the left. Very slightly to the left as it exits the rib cage."

Taylor took a deep breath and Clarke had her hands held up, ready to grip the knife. "How very slightly?" she questioned.

"Three - mil - Clarke - Clarke." The radio dropped in and out, Abby's voice and the static fighting for supremacy.

"Wait, what was that? You dropped out," Clarke said, leaning in closer to the radio to ensure that she would hear this time around. Taylor leaned in, placing her hands on the cold table that Finn lay on and gripping it tightly.

"Clarke, three millimeters. Got it?" Abby guided calmly, speaking as loud as she possibly could so the message got across clearly.

"Yeah, okay, I got it," Clarke confirmed. Her eyes were swimming with nerves and Taylor was astounded at how her hands were as steady as a rock despite all of the turmoil she knew Clarke must have been going through. "Here goes."

"Steady hand, Clarke. You've assisted me on trickier procedures than this. And once that knife is out, the hard part is over," Abby told her reassuringly. Clarke nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off of Finn. Another loud rumble resonated, shaking the ship more violently than it had up to that point. Both Raven and Taylor put their hands on the table, steadying it as a precaution. They couldn't afford for anything to go awry. Finn couldn't afford it.

"All right. Extracting now," Clarke announced as she leaned closer. Her fingers wrapped around the knife carefully and she began to pull, a sickening squelching sound emitting from the bloody wound.

Finn's eyes snapped open widely, pained groans escaping his mouth. "He's waking up!" Raven proclaimed, stating the glaringly apparent fact in a hoarse voice.

"Hold him still," Clarke commanded, gaze still glued to the knife. Taylor and Raven quickly held down his arms and legs firmly, making it nearly impossible for him to squirm any further. If he did, they knew the consequences would be severe. "Finn, I'm gonna get that knife out of you, okay?"

"Good plan," he managed through coughs. He was breathing heavily, taking in gasps of air like it would disappear at any second.

"Finn, you can't move, you got it?" Clarke went on, her eyes darting between the knife she held in her grasp and the injured boy. He nodded and made a sound of understanding; doing the best he could considering the immense pain he was in. "Okay. Here it goes."

Taylor could faintly hear Abby easing Clarke into it once more, but her voice over the radio was distant. "You're going to be okay, just don't move," she repeated Clarke's words, the seconds to come being crucial and all about life and death; it all depended on the next few moments.

Clarke pulled once again just as slow, the rumbling of the ship intensifying and making the situation all the more nerve-wracking. Taylor held Finn down as hard as she could without harming him, unable to tell if the sweat on her hands was his or hers. The next few seconds were ones that went by in a blur, almost like a dark tunnel where nothing can be seen until it's over.

The ship shook violently, shaking more than it had the entire storm. Taylor, Clarke, Raven, and Finn were all knocked to the ground harshly during the worst part of the shaking. She was sure that Finn was knocked over when she saw him lying on the ground from between the supports of the table.

She scrambled to her feet and glanced at Clarke, who held the knife in her hand with widened eyes, and at Finn, who laid on the ground with a hand covering his wound and an equally shocked expression.

"It's out. She did it," Raven announced, letting Abby know that the worst part was over. Clarke really had done it.