𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘—𝐎𝐍𝐄, all the horrible realities

      𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃.

      As much as she appreciates the help that Abby and Jackson are providing, the instructions they give them are mainly directed towards Clarke, who's handling Finn's injury. Leaving Makayla to stand over Quinn, completely lost on what to do. She doesn't want to force Clarke to deal with both injuries at once — the blades need to be removed as soon as possible. But she doesn't know how much longer she can remain confused.

      She can't tell if anything Abby's saying is meant for her, or applies to Quinn's injury. She's only guessing, putting faith in the doctor that she hasn't forgotten about her friend, who's lying unconscious on a table.

      "Ok Clarke, have a firm grip on the knife. You're gonna need to angle it upward to the left, very slightly, as it exits the rib cage" She hears Abby explain, and she almost lets out a frustrated 'huff' when she doesn't hear any explanation towards what she should do with the knife in Quinn's thigh.

      She doesn't think she's asking for much, wanting more instruction on what to do to save her friend. If Quinn's life is in her hands, and the actions she takes towards saving her, she thinks that she should have at least a little more guidance than what she's currently getting. She can't tell if Abby is prioritizing Finn, who has a worse injury, or has forgotten about Quinn altogether. 

      "How very slightly?" She hears Clarke question, looking over to see the girl holding her hands up, carefully, so she doesn't contaminate any surfaces. She hasn't been doing that — just keeping her hands away from any and all surfaces. She bites the inside of her cheek, keeping her from picking at the skin around her nails, hoping that her actions didn't just cost Quinn her life — only if she somehow managed to touch something, reversing the effect of the moonshine.

      They can barely hear Abby, the interference from the hurricane cutting off their connection. Makayla lets out a sigh — knowing that the storm is interfering with their connection, and with the few instructions that she's given about what steps to take next, her energy seems to drain right out of her body, everything in her telling her that she shouldn't even be attempting to help anymore.

      "Three millimeters".

      "What about Quinn's injury?".

      She stares at the radio, wishing Abby could see her desperate and nervous look that she's sure has completely painted her face. She'd ask Clarke — but Clarke is getting guidance on everything she's doing. She wishes, deep down, that she had learned how to take care of something like this on the Ark — because she's almost certain that the injuries won't stop.

      Especially with the carelessness of Bellamy — who she's sure is close to torturing the Grounder that he brought back. It's not what she's mainly thinking about, but there's a voice in the back of her head, constantly reminding her that an act of war is being committed not too far away from her.

      "Makayla, you're going to pull the knife out at the same angle it's currently at" She hears the woman explain, repeating the instructions silently in her head as she glances back down at the blade.

      She wishes that they had the time where it would be better to wait — to wait for Clarke to no longer be occupied, and instead able to attend to both of the teenagers. But the storm is only getting heavier, and the weak connection they have with the Ark most likely won't last forever.

      She looks over at Clarke, who hesitantly looks back at her with a weak smile. The two have established that this is a rough situation, but Clarke has emphasized that she trusts her the most to handle Quinn's injury. She's proud of the fact, but can feel her nerves only increasing by the minute, all the possibilities of what would happen if she were to make one slight mistake, one mishap, running through her head.

      Abby gives them words of encouragement — mainly to her daughter, but she's not surprised — as they stare at the wounds one more time. The dropship rattles, and deep down inside her, she feels like it's the universe telling her not to attempt this — not to attempt something she's had no practice in, but she tries to shake it off.

      She wraps her hands around the handle of the knife — not noticing that Sam's reached her side until she looks up to give Clarke one last glance. She gives the two the smallest of smiles, taking a deep breath before she begins to pull the knife out.

      Even the slightest of movement she does jolts her friend awake, the girl letting out groans of pain and distress with every slight movement of the blade. She hears the same thing happening to Clarke — Finn having woken up and almost fighting her procedure because of the pain. The stress and nervousness is getting to her, with her head beginning to ache and her hands begin to become clammy. She doesn't want to mess this up — not when Quinn's life is in her hands. 

      Not when there's too much at stake.

      "Hey — Hey, Quinn — I'm just trying to get the blade out" She frantically tells her, briefly looking towards her face before bringing her eyes back down to her thigh. She's barely moved the blade, the situation becoming far too complicated for her liking.

      Quinn groans in pain once more, and the blonde looks up at Sam in distress. He has an unsure look on his face — almost matching the one she thinks is on hers. There's tension in the air — with her unsure movements, his cluelessness, and the groans and grunts from the other injured teen only a few feet away from them. She can hear everything Clarke and Raven say, and every grunt and groan that Finn makes, the noise and stress becoming far too overwhelming for her.

      The brunette says something, but between the groans from her and the commotion behind her, she can't tell what the girl is saying. She bites her cheek, attempting to move the blade even in the slightest, but the sudden distressed movements from her friend make it ten times harder.

      "Fuck — Can you, um, hold her leg down? Try to get her to stop moving?" She questions, voice frantic and pleading. She glances up at her friend, the boy standing still for a few seconds before immediately moving to help her. The unspoken agreement to listen, to help in the best way he can, almost makes her want to sigh in relief that there's someone helping her. 

      "Hold still, I almost got it!" She hears Clarke exclaim from behind her, making her worried that she's not moving fast enough to get the blade out. There's sweat rolling down her face, she can taste the blood in her mouth from how hard she's been biting her cheek, and she's almost certain she's somehow fucked up the procedure somehow. 

      She can feel the blade move once more as she directs it out of her friend's thigh, her nerves not washing away for a second. Her hands are the most shaky that they've ever been, and she's whispering a string of curses to herself as she continues to pull the blade out of the girl's thigh. Beside her, she can hear Sam's heavy breathing, signifying his nerves and shaky feelings, and she can see out of the corner of her eye that his hands are shaking too — both of their nerves skyrocketing higher than they have before.

      She can barely see the blade's shape changing size, signifying that it's almost removed, before she's thrown across the dropship. She's barely able to stop her head from hitting the floor as Sam lands on her legs, the two being thrown away from the table that they were just standing over. 

      There's something in her hand, and she quickly looks down to see the blade, covered in blood and what she assumes is other bodily fluids. She can feel a smile working it's way onto her face, a wave of relief washing over her as what just happened resonates with her.

      "Holy shit — I did it!" She whispers, at the same time as Clarke announces to her mother that the blades have been removed, successfully. She glances upwards towards Sam, who has a matching smile on his face as he glances between the blade and her.

      "You did it!".

      She smiles. "I did!".

      She throws herself into a hug with Sam, almost forgetting that neither of the injured teens have been fully saved yet. She's never felt more proud of herself in her life — knowing that she successfully did something that helped save her friend's life. Something she was so nervous over is over, something that was eating away at her is gone.

      The hardest part of this is over — at least, she thinks it is.

—————————————————————————————

      𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑.

      He doesn't know how Makayla could hold it together and successfully pull the blade out without losing her shit. He knows that he would've — with the stress and nerves he could see radiating off of both of the blondes as they worked to remove the blades, he's almost certain that he would've succumbed to the nerves and given up, even though he would've known that he couldn't.

      He knew that Makayla could do it, even with the lack of practice she's had. She's an adaptable person, who can follow commands and execute them to the best of her ability. He was there for moral support, and to help hold down Quinn so there weren't any extra injuries. He would've liked to continue dealing with the radio — being there and ready for any issues that they might've had — but wasn't going to let his best friend stand there alone, especially when he could feel her stress from across the room.

      The two stand over the brunette girl, who after the storm had thrown everyone around the room had been knocked off her table and was weakly trying to pull herself up. He had seen her weak attempt at grabbing the side of the table to pull herself up, and immediately went brought himself over to help her. 

      "I feel like actual dogshit" The brunette girl groans, her hand staying over her now open wound as the two stand over her. He can see Makayla crack a small smile — finally, after being so nervous that he could've sworn he could feel the nerves radiating off of her. 

      "I'm not surprised, but Clarke will stitch you up soon" The blonde explains, kneeling down next to the girl's head. "But we need to get you back up on the table".

      Quinn lets out a sigh. "Good idea".

      He looks over at his friend, seeing her kneeling down and finding the best way to situate her hands around the girl's arms, readying herself to pick the teenager up by her arms. Without commands, he moves himself over to the girl's feet, and hesitantly grabs the girl's ankles.

      He's so hesitant because the brunette seems to have some sort of issue with him — being stand–offish and slightly rude whenever the speak. He hasn't spoken to her many times, but in the few times he has, he's seen her behavior towards him. She doesn't seem to enjoy his presence, only ever reluctant to be by him.

      But he respects her for the fact that she's created a strong bond with Makayla in the short time they've been on Earth, the invisible string connecting the two only growing stronger by the minute. He enjoys watching her finally find other friends, and find her place. 

      The two — with some effort coming from the blonde — are able to get Quinn on the table, giving her a place to recover from her injury without being on the floor. The tension that was once in the room has faded, leaving them to finally feel the calm after the storm they've been looking for, and giving him the slightest bit of peace he's been looking for.

      He's lost the stress that was once hanging over his head, it having faded into the universe. All he wants to do now is help — he can stay away from the radio for a while. The commotion from the room, the nerves itching to crawl into his skin are now gone, giving him the ability to calmly help. All he's wanted to do is help — whether it was help through the radio or help via being a shitty medical assistant. His clouded mind wasn't helping, and he's glad it's gone now.

      "Can you cover her wound, at least while I stitch up Finn's?" Clarke says, turning his attention towards the blonde. She's looked up for a second, mid–procedure — impatiently waiting for a response. 

      He gives her a smile. "Yeah, I got it".

      The same table where he was once stressing over the radio not being functional has now become a hub for all the things that they've needed — bandages, stitching needles, thread — being a haven for everything they need. The same radio that he was once stressing over, the same radio that was eating away at him, has now been surrounded by other necessary supplies, leaving his self–critical thoughts buried behind layers of other things, rather than being at the front of his mind.

      He grabs a cloth, something temporary to cover Quinn's wound so she doesn't lose any more blood than she already has. He's uncovered a small corner of the radio, showing the rusted and beat–up metal that makes it up. He tries his best not to move anything else around — keeping his movements delicate, as if one quick movement of his hand will shatter all the progress they've made with the machine.

      The cloth is thick, a piece of scrap fabric from an extra jacket, or shirt. They've only taken the most beat–up and worn down of clothes to make into bandages, taken from a few of the members of the camp they've buried. It's the sad truth — one that he hopes he's never part of. The reality of Earth has hit them all like a truck, giving them reality checks every few hours. 

      He shakes his thoughts off, walking back over to Makayla, who's standing over the table and conversing with Quinn — the brunette having the weakest of smiles on her face, and her eyes look like they're barely staying open.

      "Here's the cloth" He announces, shifting his eyes away from Quinn and over towards Makayla, who accepts it with a smile.

      "You should really get some rest though, being unconscious from getting stabbed in the thigh doesn't count as rest" She elaborates, sounding like she's piggybacking off of something she said earlier. He nods along, knowing she's right — the brunette needs rest. She most likely wouldn't want to be awake as a shitty needle and thread puncture the layers of her skin to close up her wound.

      The cloth makes its way over the her wound, causing the brunette to wince. "I can try my best".

      He watches the blonde give the brunette a look that says 'Are you serious' and secure the bandage once more. He's awkwardly standing there, of the side, waiting for instruction on something to do that doesn't involve the radio.

      "Thanks for saving my ass though. Didn't know you had it in you to be my savior, Mick" He hears Quinn say, and he lets a small smile creep on to his face as he hears his best friend get the congratulations she deserves. She tried her best with limited resources, which is something he knows he wouldn't have been able to handle.

      The blonde smiles, tapping the metal of the table a few times with her fingers before moving to the side to check in with Clarke on the status of Finn, leaving the two teenagers there, alone.

      "Mick said you helped save my dumbass too, so, thanks" Quinn announces, her voice seeming strained and reluctant. He watches as she rubs her eyes, trying her best to stay awake with the little energy she has. 

      He stares for a few seconds, registering what the brunette said. He didn't do much — not a lot except help hold the girl down so Makayla could have an almost unmoving Quinn — but he did help. He's never been thanked for doing a job other than something mechanical before, and even sometimes when he did his mechanic–based jobs. And to think that he's getting this 'thank you' from someone he was almost sure didn't like him — he almost feels happy for himself, silently congratulating himself for doing something that has gotten him some thanks. 

      "No problem, Quinn — just don't get stabbed again" He says in response, a smile finding its way onto his face as he tries to make a joke out of the situation, since it's over now.

      She lets out a weak laugh, her eyes closed as she situates herself on the table. "Can't really control if an unconscious Grounder decides to wake up and stab me, but I'll try my best".

      "Get some rest, though" He urges, redirecting the conversation back to what Makayla had tried to say before. "I don't think you want to feel it when Clarke tries to stitch you up".

      "I think first you have to fuck off so I can sleep, Vickerson".

      He rolls his eyes, moving away from the table and over to where Makayla is, letting the girl get some rest. He's glad that he's becoming at least somewhat friends with the girl, after her being stand–offish and partially rude in their previous interactions. He doesn't like that it's taken a life–threatening injury to make it happen, but he's glad nonetheless. 

      He arrives at the table just in time to see Clarke cut the wire that she was using to stitch up Finn, finishing up everything they had to do save the teen from dying. She lets out a sigh of relief as she finishes, announcing to her mother — who's still on the other end of the radio, patiently waiting and listening to see how the procedure is going.

      The blonde explains to her mother that she's moving on to Quinn's injury, leaving the table just as Makayla does — he assumes she wants to be there if Clarke needs any help, especially because she's operating on Quinn. This leaves him and Raven alone, standing on opposite ends of the table where Finn lays.

      "You okay?" He questions, looking up at the girl as she worriedly glances over her boyfriend, almost as if looking away would cause something to go wrong, or something terrible to happen.

      "Yeah, yeah — I'm fine. Just want to make sure he's okay".

      They make eye contact, and he gives her a small smile. "There's no shame in being worried. He's your boyfriend, after all".

      Raven opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Abby's voice coming in through the radio. "Remember to cover his wound with something. Do you have anything to cover it with?".

      Sam glances over to the radio, where the bandages that he found in the bunker not that long ago lay. The same roll of bandages that he brought back to secure Makayla's ankle, giving her a bit of an advancement in terms of healing, lays there, now being used for communal use. He mentally reminds himself to tell her that she should probably switch the bandages — or at least use a cloth, or a piece of old clothing to secure her ankle again so it heals.

      He tells Abby that there's some bandages — though he doesn't want to use too much, because they only have so much on the roll — and he'll use some to cover the wound. He stands over the radio now, carefully untangling the bandages from the tools that were thrown around because of the storm.

      He takes them, tearing off the edge that had hit the floor — not wanting to risk covering Finn's stitched–up wound with bacteria–infused bandages. Turning around, he gives Raven a smile, walking over as he unrolls them.

      Rolling off enough bandages to properly cover his wound, he begins wrapping the wound, only to feel his skin being oddly warm, and he starts to notice how pale it's become.

      "He is really fucking warm" He announces, wiping his hand off from the sweat and continuing to wrap his wound. 

      He watches, from the corner of his eye, as Raven's hand immediately flies to check if what he's saying is true. He doesn't blame her for checking — he's her boyfriend after all, and he's been stabbed — but he doesn't think that he'd be saying that for no reason. He blames her frantic actions on her nerves, and how if she wasn't so intent on watching the wound be wrapped, she'd be pacing around the room, waiting for him to wake up.

      "He's right — should he be this warm and pale?" Raven questions, frantically looking up at the radio and waiting for a response.

      "He's lost a lot of blood Raven, but if your boyfriend is anywhere near as tough as you I'm sure he'll be fine" Abby says, but he doesn't know if her words are calming Raven down. She looks back down at her boyfriend, biting her lip out of nervousness.

      "Wait, they're right, both of them are feverish and pale".

      There's crackling from the radio. "You need to give them some time to recover. Let me know if they get any worse but I think — I think they might just be out of the woods".

      He hears Makayla scoff as he finishes wrapping the wound. "There's nothing but woods down here — it's not like this is the only problem we'll have".

      There's a snipping sound from behind him, and he turns to see Clarke finishing the stitching needed to let Quinn's wound heal, and not that long afterwards, she announces that she needs a break — a well deserved one, anyway. She's done the most work out of all of them to save the two, taking care of a more detrimental injury and a riskier extraction, as well as stitching up both of the teenagers' wounds. There shouldn't be any questions asked with this break she wants to take.

      But there's some back and forth between her and her mother through the radio, Abby asking if the other three in the room could leave for a few minutes. They're all willing to — Sam knowing for sure that he doesn't want to insert himself in their conversation, which could very much lead into an argument based on the tension he swears he can feel, the tension that's radiating off of Clarke.

      But she leaves, leaving the three alone. He watches Makayla shrink down to the floor, laying her head back on the wall and bending her knees up. The storm is still raging outside, and all they're stuck doing is waiting.

      He moves over to her, sliding down the wall to sit. "You okay?".

      She smiles. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just worried about them, y'know? I have full faith in Clarke, and it's not like I think we missed something —".

      "But you're still worried that we did?".

      She nods. He's always known her to think of these things, think that something bad was skipped over, resulting in a terrible thing happening. It happened when he accidentally cut his arm during a training, and after he came back from Medical, she was all over him with questions. He didn't think anything was skipped over, because he trusted that Abby knew what she was doing when she stitched up his arm, but Makayla still had her doubts.

      Her questions were filled with different versions of 'What if they missed something?' or 'What if your stitches aren't secure and you end up getting an infection?'. He kept telling her that he was fine, and everything would be fine, but nevertheless she continued asking. She never stopped until he got the stitches removed, and then came a new set of questions.

      "I think it's pretty cool that you stepped up — even if you were completely clueless" He hears Raven say, and he looks up to see her walking over to them. "I don't know if I would've been able to stomach doing that".

      Makayla laughs. "The famous Raven Reyes saying she wouldn't be good at something?".

      "Famous?".

      The blonde laughs again, nudging his shoulder. "Someone wouldn't shut up about this super amazing mechanic back on the Ark".

      Sam scoffs. "We were always in competition with each other, and I'm pretty sure I only said she was good at everything, like, twice".

      He watches her roll her eyes, and then look over at Raven, who's sitting against one of the legs of the metal table that Quinn is resting on. "It was more than a few times".

      He slaps her arm, only to get kicked in the foot back. He doesn't think he ever talked about Raven that much on the Ark, but when he thinks back — he did. His conversations about his training with the older mechanics always somehow included talking about Raven, but she always had something to do with whatever he was talking about.

      They were trained together, after all. The two were always competing, wanting to be better than each other, itching to be on top and receive the most praise. Their dreams and activities were similar, leaving them to be trained together and to learn together. They may have competed with each other, but they were friends, and still are. 

      "I'm glad I finally got to meet this girl that Sam wouldn't shut up about — he used to speak really highly of you" Makayla adds, a smile plastered onto her face. He's happy that she's glad, knowing that she wasn't everyone's favorite person on the Ark. They've had each other, and always will — through anything that Earth throws at them. But, he's still glad that she's branching herself out, creating the bonds that younger her always dreamed of having.

      He looks up, drifting his concentration away from the one happening right next to him. Something seems odd about the rest of the room — there's new background noise, not the low static from the radio that there once was. His eyes trail over what looks to be Quinn's shaking figure, which he knows for sure isn't normal.

      "Why the hell is Quinn shaking?" He questions, picking himself immediately up off the floor. The site before him reties the knot that was once in his stomach — the brunette girl is seizing.

      "Oh my God" Makayla breathes out, frantically looking over at the two. "Um, Raven, go get Clarke. I — I don't know what to do".

      He volunteers to get Abby on the radio once more, knowing that they'll need her medical knowledge, or at least some sort of guidance on what to do. He wants to move towards it, he really does, but freezes when he sees Finn seizing not that far away from him. 

      "Sam — get Abby on the radio. Please!" Makayla urges, her voice frantic as she runs her hands through her hair, knowing absolutely nothing about what to do about the seizures. 

      Her voice snaps him out of his thoughts, reminding him that without Abby, the two teenagers that are seizing around them are probably as good as dead. But they don't have the supplies to stop these seizures, no medication, nothing to see why these seizures are being caused — absolutely nothing. He rushes over to the radio anyway, only to be met with disappointment. 

      The radio is dead, because of the fucking storm. 

      Maybe if he had done a few more tweaks to the machine, the radio would've been able to push through. Maybe if he hadn't decided to sit aside and become unfocused, the radio would still be working. Maybe if he had put more work into creating the best radio they could get out of the piece of shit they were given, they'd still have contact with the Ark.

      He looks back at Makayla, dread painting his face. He's silent, the truth washing over him — that he failed them. He's doomed Quinn, who's just started becoming strong friends with Makayla. He's doomed Finn, who he knows is important to Raven in a way that he doesn't even know if he could describe.

      And he can't help but think, deep down, that he's doomed them all somehow. 

      𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 —

so sorry for disappearing, i've been so insanely busy, but to make up for it i'll probably post the next chapter next monday

this chapter seriously would've been almost ten thousand words if i didnt decide to split it up, so the  thing i was talking about in the last chapter with makayla will happen in the next update!

and also im SO sorry if anything i said about the procedure mick did on quinn is inaccurate, i tried to research and i couldn't find shit so i kinda just went with the flow ykwim

xoxo!

𝟒𝟗𝟐𝟓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒