"Clarke, do you have any idea the damage left in Mount Weather?" Kane asked, eyebrows raised incredulously. "We disposed of the bodies, but that hardly means it's a sanitary environment."

Clarke stared back at him, trying to shake off the dizziness that suddenly swept over her. "You don't have a choice," she said. "Camp Jaha is not secure enough. You have an electric fence. That's it." She looked at each one of them in turn. "But if you want someplace where you'll be able to know when they come without surprise, it's Mount Weather."

"It's a tomb!" One of the guards protested.

Those black dots returned, dancing over Clarke's vision, but she forced her voice to stay hard as she met their gaze. "It's our only chance."

"Kane," Bellamy said, looking at the older man. "She's right. You all know she is. We start packing tomorrow."

Kane stood up. "You don't call the shots, Blake." He didn't say it angrily, but it came out demeaning nonetheless.

Clarke caught the clench of Bellamy's jaw. "Fine," he conceded. "Then you call it. Because like Clarke said, we have no other option."

Clarke blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. If she passed out here, they'd find out. Her secrets would unravel like the bandaging on her back.

As if reading her mind, Bellamy spoke on her behalf. "Clarke's had a long journey. I think it's best if we end this now," he said and relief flooded her. "Kane, you're right. You're the one calling the shots, but whatever you do call, its on you."

Clarke felt his hand land on hers and he helped her up. Not roughly, or too much to raise alarm. But as any mother would, Abby stepped forward worry etched in the lines of her face. "Clarke-"

"Mom, I'm fine," she said, raising a hand. She couldn't see her mother's face clearly, partially covered in bits of black that looked like ashes.

"She's dehydrated," Bellamy lied. "I'll escort her to her tent." And without waiting for a response, Bellamy led her out of the council room, down the hallways, and from the ship. Already, Clarke's legs were starting to wobble and she gripped his arm as he directed her away from throngs of people and into her makeshift home.

She collapsed on her cot, squeezing her eyes shut as more dots burst forth.

"You need to rest," Bellamy ordered, in a voice that told her there was no room for negotiating.

She nodded. And then regretted the action.

He snatched up the blanket and lifted it to Clarke's chin.

For just a second, his face seemed to lose age, and Clarke could almost see Bellamy as a young boy, tucking a little girl into a bed beneath the floor.

But then the image disappeared and he stood to leave. "Hey, Bellamy," Clarke called after him, before he could duck from the tent.

He glanced back at her. "Yeah?"

"I just want to say thank you," she admitted. "Not only for today but...just for all it. Thanks for being there." She tried for a smile.

Bellamy returned it with a nod before he left.

"Even when I wasn't," she added in a whisper.

                                                                                        *******

"Load the rifles and weapons in the cart. Station guards near it, but not too close. Otherwise it'll look like we have something there worth protecting." Bellamy stood in front of a line of guards, downed in black gear as he gave them their orders.

Both Kane and Abby had agreed on Clarke's plan, a decision of which didn't seem to earn them any appeasement. Instead, a dark shadow had been cast over the camp, as its people loaded supplies and prepared to return to the place many had nearly died in. It had taken all their efforts to convince the people it was the only way, providing them the only choice to either come and live, or stay and die.

It was the kind of ultimatum none attempted to question.

Two days ago, Kane had ordered a pair to inspect Mount Weather and report back their findings. Which, as of early this morning, had confirmed that the mountain was still vacant. Kane had then assigned Bellamy to help organize their leave. That included the food supply and weapon inventory, a job that was steadily beginning to weigh him down.

"I want the medical equipment separated into two quarters!" He barked out. "Do not put any full stock in one place!"

He shifted on his heels and marched into the ship, stopping when he reached the lab. Raven stood inside with Wick, both standing above an eclectic horde of gadgetry scattered at their feet. He look at them in disbelief. "What are you doing?" He demanded. "This was supposed to be loaded an hour ago."

"Hey, Bellamy," Raven said, discarding his chastise as she surveyed the tech.

"How much were we supposed to bring?" Wick leaned in to ask Raven, balancing his elbow with a hand.

Bellamy felt his anger pique and answered the question instead. "We need the essentials. Bring materials you can use to make explosives. Bombs. Anything like that."

"I can make a bomb out of a toaster and some paper," Raven said. "You're gonna need to be a bit more specific."

Bellamy swallowed back a retort. "Bring what only you guys can use," he clarified. "I don't want to see dynamite with an instruction manual in the cart."

Raven scoffed. "Why didn't you just say so? We can load all this up, then."

Bellamy looked at her skeptically. "You sure? If we're ambushed between here and Mount Weather, I don't want to be aiding the enemy."

It was true that Clarke had promised that would be unlikely and the safest time to travel would be the soonest. But Bellamy didn't want to take those chances.

Raven smirked at him. "Can you tell what any of this stuff is, Bellamy?"

His eyes fell back to the gadgets, the littering of devices, gleaming in the morning light. There was an array of metal cylinders, and other structures he couldn't fathom the uses of. He shook his head.

Raven smiled. "Then we have nothing to worry about."

                                                                                          ********

As mid afternoon approached, Clarke began to get anxious. She ignored Bellamy's word of warning to stay put and had long since left the confines of her tent. Now she was trying to help finish the loading, and assist in the final arrangements.

Some supplies they would be leaving behind, in case things turned south. They would be kept hidden, locked in one of the ship's safes that could only be opened with a code. Or explosives, but Clarke wasn't counting on that.

When the last cart was nearly filled, Octavia appeared in front of her, helping her with the last load. "So back to Mount Weather, then," Octavia said, attempting to sound blase about the situation. Or cynical.

Clarke nodded. "Yup."

She hadn't really let the return settle in her mind. Wouldn't. If she let those haunting images creep in, of levers and computer screens, she'd freeze. And that was something she just couldn't afford to do.

"Clarke." Octavia's voice lost the lightness, and it turned cold. "Are you really okay?"

Clarke looked at her friend, catching the concern in her eyes. It was harder to lie to someone who understood more of what she'd endured, and who'd accepted the horrible things she'd done. But was she okay?

Okay had once meant content. A single word to let others know they were hurting, but that they'd make it through. But on the ground, okay had been redefined to mean something much more simple. To them, it simply meant alive.

"Yeah, Octavia," she said, hoping her voice sounded sure. "I'm okay."

The girl didn't look that convinced, but let it go, which Clarke appreciated. They locked the cart up in silence, before giving the signal that it was finished. The compound was now full of a small band of disjointed carts, pulled individually by horses. Other than two lookouts, everyone would be traveling on foot. When Lincoln came into view, Octavia squeezed Clarke's shoulder before drifting over to him.

Clarke ignored the stab of pain that caused, turning her attention on Abby, speaking with Kane, and then on Bellamy, standing resolute near more guards. Clarke overheard him telling them to fan out and form a perimeter around the cargo, just moments before Kane signaled everyone to move out. Somber gazes were cast over shoulders, murmured questions voiced under peoples' breaths. No one bothered to make some sort of departing speech, because it wouldn't have made a difference. The electricity to the fence was cut, leaving the echo of a dull hum in their wake.

When the Camp had receded from view, leaving nothing but wilderness before them, Bellamy stepped into stride beside her. "You honestly don't think they'll attack?" He asked, eyes scanning the blanket of trees to their left.

Clarke nodded. "If anything, they may have scouts down here, but not enough to follow through on a successful raid."

"How reassuring," Bellamy said sarcastically.

She gave him a smirk.

"How're you feeling, by the way?" He added, looking back at her.

Clarke shrugged. "The wounds aren't infected. They should be healed within a few months."

"I'm not just asking about the cuts, Clarke," he amended. "I meant with all of this, returning to Mount Weather."

"I wasn't the only one burdened by what was done there, Bellamy," she said, glancing back at him. His dark hair was slick with sweat from the day, from the sun that still hung high between the clouds. "I'm sorry I didn't ask how you'd feel about it."

"You already knew," he said, but there was no accusation in his voice. "If the Ice Nation is such a powerful threat, there really was no other choice. You didn't decide this out of impulse. It was out of necessity. One that may just have saved these people's' lives."

"I don't want that on me, Bellamy," Clarke bit out, slightly surprised. She glanced at the people passing her, walking ahead and behind before looking back at him. "I don't want to be responsible for lives anymore."

"Clarke," he grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop. She did and stared up at him, waiting for whatever was coming next.

"Even if you hadn't been there, I would've pulled that lever," He confessed, the earnest showing in his dark eyes. "It wasn't just you."

But Clarke only pursed her lips, trying to keep the images away from her. "Even so, I'm done being responsible for lives. I'm not a leader here, Bellamy. For the first time since we came to the ground, I'm just Clarke. And the only life I'm now responsible for, is my own."

                                                                                            ********

It took a full day for the herd of people to reach Mount Weather. It jutted from the earth in a cemented mound, the dam leaking nothing more than small rivulets of water down the surface. The sight sent a hundred images flashing through Clarke's mind, each like a shard of glass lacerating her to a pulp.

When the circular door was opened, the guards were the first to enter, waving for everyone to wait before they returned and gave the okay.

Clarke stepped closer, watching as others followed, disappearing into the darkness beyond. Dread curled in her gut as she reached the opening, gripping the frame of it with bone-white knuckles. She squeezed her eyes shut.

A hand rested on her shoulder. "One step at a time," Bellamy told her.

Clarke reached up and grabbed his hand, much like she'd done the other night.

"Together," she said.

He squeezed her hand and they both stepped inside.