• •

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT;

THE TIGHTROPE.

• •

        TWO DAYS. Forty-eight agonizing hours had passed since Haven was brought back to camp, her unconscious form nestled within the refuge of Bellamy's cot. Hidden away from the prying eyes of those dwelling in the dropship, she remained ensconced in a cocoon of silence, her very existence suspended in a limbo between life and death.

        Only a select few were granted access to the tent: Clarke, Raven, Orion, Octavia, Jasper, Monty, Miller, and Bellamy. They rotated shifts, each taking their turn monitoring her pulse, their unwavering vigilance the only barrier preventing her from slipping away.

Bellamy was adamant about maintaining privacy, a goal that proved paramount–especially amidst the chaos that currently engulfed the rest of the camp in flames.

        Literally.

        Earlier that morning, Del had ignited a catastrophic blaze that engulfed the entirety of the meat tent. Ignoring warnings to stop fueling the fucking fire, he continued to feed the flames relentlessly, spurred by a rebellious streak against Murphy's commands. Eventually, the tent was consumed in an inferno. The once edible cured poultry and anticipated meals were now reduced to mere ashes, leaving Bellamy to face yet another crisis in need of solving.

        As much as he loathed the idea, Bellamy also understood that hunting was their only viable solution. Starvation was simply not an option if they hoped to succeed in the impending conflict. Despite the lack of retaliation from the Grounders since the bridge bombing—so far—they couldn't afford to remain idle. They had to take the risk of venturing beyond the camp's borders to ensure they were prepared for whatever lay ahead.

        Of course, that didn't mean he relished the prospect; in truth, he wanted nothing to do with any of it. Bellamy would sooner tear his own skin off than be compelled to bark orders and thrust rifles into the hands of timid teenagers. All he truly desired was to remain by Haven's bedside and await her awakening. Yet, the relentless demands of his responsibility to the camp tugged at him from a hundred different directions, ceaselessly, incessantly, every damn minute of the day.

Which is why this moment felt infinitely more meaningful. It was Bellamy's shift to monitor Haven's pulse, a responsibility that now felt imbued with an unparalleled significance. With reverent care, he knelt beside the cot, his thumb pressed firmly against her wrist, counting each heartbeat in the confines of his mind as if his own life depended on it. Though her fingers remained inert, he tenderly laid his own in her palm, a silent wish that by some fucking miracle–she'd wake up and grasp it.

"Commotio cordis."

The sound of Clarke's voice piercingly cut through the static in Bellamy's mind. She stood at the foot of the cot, arms folded, her eyes solemn and downcast as she observed Haven's unmoving form. Miller stood beside her. Monty and Orion sat across from Bellamy, their legs crossed, eyes glittering with apprehension as they absorbed Clarke's medical diagnosis.

Orion squinted. "Commando what?"

"Commotio cordis," Clarke reiterated, her voice tinged with gravity as she dragged her lip between her teeth. "It's an incredibly rare medical phenomenon. If there's a blunt trauma to the heart that occurs at a very specific moment during a heartbeat, it can induce cardiac arrest."

Straining to contain her frustration, Orion squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, the pressure grounding her momentarily as she fought to steady her breathing. "I'm gonna kill Finn."

"Get in line," Bellamy huffed.

Finn had intermittently poked his head into the tent, hoping for fleeting moments to check on Haven, only to be met with the wrath of Orion's shove each time. His presence was swiftly deemed unwanted and unwelcome, particularly given that he was the very reason Haven lay unconscious in the first place.

He didn't dare to approach Bellamy.

        Clarke let out a long sigh, as though she had been holding it back for centuries. "Did anyone hear her complain about any chest pain recently?"

All at once, Bellamy's mind surged into overdrive, meticulously dissecting every interaction he'd had with Haven over the past few days. He sifted through memories, scouring for any nuanced cues or hints of discomfort she might have betrayed. He was keenly aware of her tendency to keep any discomfort hidden beneath a well-trained smile. Back on the Ark, he had become adept at reading her body language to gauge how she was feeling each day.

Yet here, on Earth, she had managed to cloak her pain so masterfully that even his observations had failed to detect it.

Bellamy clenched his jaw. "No. Why does it matter?"

"Well, if her heart was already under stress prior to the trauma, it could explain why..." Clarke's voice faltered slightly, a shadow of distress crossing her features as she recalled the events leading to Haven's condition. "It could explain why Finn didn't have to shove her that hard for this to happen. It sounds like a freak accident."

"It sounds like Finn will be eating shit for the rest of his life," Orion retorted, intentionally raising her voice a notch in case Finn happened to be lurking nearby. Her gaze softened as she took in the bandage on Haven's temple. "What about her blood? Why is it..." she gulped, "...black?"

Clarke's eyes instinctively darted to Bellamy.

Right.

Amidst the whirlwind of the past two days, the wound on Haven's forehead had almost entirely slipped from the forefront of the Blake boy's mind. Jasper had recounted the moment she stumbled, her temple grazing a gnarled tree root upon collapsing. Lost in the frantic rush to administer CPR, the group had been wholly unaware of the abnormal hue of her blood until afterwards. And now, those who had been in the front row upon their return were acutely aware of it too.

"Genetic condition. She's had it since she was born," Bellamy admitted lowly, fully cognizant of the trust he was instilling in their inner circle. "It definitely didn't just...change. But keep it under wraps–all of you," he warned, "If the camp starts snooping around, tell them it's a side effect of the old meds she used to take on the Ark."

Silence roared.

"You got that?"

Beneath the weight of Bellamy's death glare, every head in the tent nodded in solemn agreement. It wasn't merely a matter of understanding; it was a silent oath of loyalty and protection. Haven had already gone through enough as it was, and now–she was further burdened by a secret that demanded absolute discretion.

It was the least they could do.

        "Maybe she's like Superman," Miller chimed in, shrugging off the odd looks from everyone in the tent except for Monty. "What? In that old comic, he bled back when Doomsday cut into him." He observed Haven with an impressed nod. "That's some raw shit right there."

        Monty mustered a weakened grin.

Meanwhile, Clarke pointedly cleared her throat. "Let's just assume she was experiencing chest pain prior. That could also explain her unconsciousness."

"You mean the coma," Bellamy muttered.

"I wouldn't go that far–yet." Clarke shot Bellamy a scornful glare, though the wince beneath her words was undeniable. "Her body is most likely in recovery mode." She turned to Monty with another jaded sigh. "How long did it take for CPR to work?"

Monty had barely spoken upon their return to camp. Since the crash of the exodus ship, he had devoted most of his time to fidgeting with the radio, his ears straining for any faint signals of life from the Ark. Yet, time and time again, all he encountered was eerie radio silence. Faced with the grim assumption that his parents were likely dead, with one of his best friends seemingly poised to follow–he wasn't exactly doing great.

"I dunno," he answered, "Maybe two minutes?"

       "That's good," Clarke affirmed, her nod infused with genuine relief at his words. "Really good, actually. If it took longer than four, she could've been unconscious due to brain damage."

        Four pairs of wide eyes flashed towards her.

        The Griffin girl visibly sagged beneath the weight of their collective stare. "I'm only telling you that in case we need to be prepared for the worst. I don't think that's what happening though," she explained, her words a feeble attempt to offer some measure of reassurance in the face of mounting dread. "Her reflexes respond well to stimulus."

"Except the smelling salts," Bellamy grumbled, his voice taut with frustration as he adjusted his grip around Haven's pulse. "This is ridiculous. Are we really supposed to keep sitting here and wait? Do nothing?"

Clarke's words landed as more of a demand than a mere suggestion. "You can start by lowering your voice," she urged, her cerulean eyes locking onto Bellamy's brown ones, conveying a fragile warning. "It's a very real possibility she can still hear us. Loud noises and high emotions could stress her out–which will only make it harder for her to recover."

Shit.

Honestly–Bellamy wasn't even aware of the irritation that had slithered beneath his tongue. It wasn't a conscious choice to exude pessimism; rather, an overwhelming sense of disquiet consumed him. He couldn't fucking help it; every fiber of his being seemed out of sync, as if the universe had conspired to disrupt his equilibrium. Existing felt like trying to breathe with only half a lung and function with half a brain.

And as he felt the pulse beneath his thumb skyrocket, Bellamy swiftly realized it wasn't Haven's heartbeat that had surged, it was his own.

He knew he needed to pull himself together. Yet, with each inhale, he felt the insidious vines of dread winding tighter around his lungs, constricting with each furtive glance her way–threatening to consume him whole. Clarke's words reverberated in his mind, a sobering reminder that his failure to master his emotions could have dire consequences for Haven.

But he couldn't. He couldn't.

Last time...

Bellamy shook his head, banishing the haunting shadows that threatened to drag him back into the abyss of his past horrors.

        "Ya hear that, Blake?" Orion quipped, shooting him a pointed glare from the opposite side of the cot. "Maybe you should swap shifts. Wouldn't wanna disturb her dreams, would you?"

        "The REM cycle is definitely functional during a com–" Clarke's sentence halted abruptly as she caught herself on the brink of a slip-up. She paled immediately, acutely aware of the scrutiny of the group's gaze once more. Regaining her composure, she offered a tight-lipped smile. "Orion's right. If you do talk to her, keep it light."

        Bellamy sucked in a firm breath. "Fine," be grunted, his exhale slow and deliberate as he reluctantly loosened his grip on Haven's wrist. "Fine. Miller, you're up. If you take your hand off her pulse–you won't have a hand anymore." His words whirred through the air like a blade. "Clear?"

        Miller nodded. "You got it, boss."

        Once the duo had successfully swapped places, most of the group dispersed back into the waning afternoon light. Duty beckoned, and responsibilities awaited—people to look after, tasks to fulfill. Despite their hesitation leave, the world outside continued its relentless march, heedless of their presence, its rhythm unyielding to anyone or anything.

        Bellamy was the last to abandon the tent, his gaze anchored to Haven's unmoving form for one, final moment before slipping beneath the tarp.

        "Shit, he's coming!"

        "OOF–!"

        Monroe and Fox abruptly collided against Bellamy's torso, their bodies tumbling to the ground in a chaotic whirlwind of limbs and dust. After a moment of disarray, they hastily regained their composure, scrambling to their feet and futilely attempting to mask their eavesdropping mishap.

        Tilting his head, Bellamy leveled them with a steely glare. "What the hell are you two doing?"

        "Us? N-Nothing!" Fox countered, the young girl's attempt at a confident smile faltering under Bellamy's penetrating gaze. "Totally nothing. We were just wondering, uh..."

        Monroe winced. "Cut the shit. He already caught us," she admitted, drawing in a sharp breath, painfully aware that her next words could seal her fate. "Before we head out with the hunting group...we wanted to see how Haven's doing."
     
        Instinctively, Bellamy tightened his fists. "Really?" he pressed, his tone edged with suspicion as he scrutinized the teenagers before him, arms crossed defensively over his chest. "What's the wager on her life this time? Your next meal?"

        "Huh? No," Monroe scrunched her nose in distaste at the unspoken accusation. "She took care of us in the dropship when we had the virus. I..." Her eyes softened. "We just hope she'll be okay–really."

        Bellamy's scrutiny intensified as he sought to snuff out any lingering traces of deceit, but his efforts were in vain. There, within the depths of their gazes, he found only honesty, unadorned and unyielding. And as his eyes traversed the silent onlookers nearby, each figure trying their best to appear inconspicuous, he found no trace of deception among them either.

        They all cared about Haven.

        Every single one of them.

        "She will be," Bellamy answered lowly, though edge in his tone had long abandoned him. Slowly, he uncurled his fists, allowing the tension within them to ebb away like receding waves. "Now, get back to work–and stay safe."

        The girls departed without a word.

        Once they were fully out of sight, Bellamy sought solace around a secluded corner of the tent, the fabric shielding him from prying eyes but offering no respite from the ache within. Trembling, he reached down to steady himself, his palms pressing firmly against his knees as he hunched over, doubled in a silent battle to contain the turmoil churning within him.

It was in that moment of solitude that he finally surrendered to a tortured exhale. The tension unraveled from his body like a tightly wound coil, each breath a release of the stress he had been carrying since he entered his tent earlier in the day.

        Everything hurt.

        Something within him was decaying, a festering rot that gnawed at his insides like a relentless plague. Here he stood, dispatching teenagers into the forest in search of sustenance and molding child soldiers for war. Here he stood, unable to fathom the horror of losing the girl in the tent just beside him. Here he stood, trembling beneath the weight of the crown he craved—the burden of leadership he had willingly chosen.

        "Where's Bellamy? I ran out of bullets!"

Just like that, he straightened once more.

        Gone was the fleeting moment of vulnerability Bellamy had allowed himself. As quickly as he had shattered, he glued himself back together twice as fast, his resolve hardening like tempered steel. Mechanically, he moved towards his next task, each step a testament to his unwavering commitment to his people, no matter the personal cost.

• •

"WE NEED MORE AMMO."

Raven hardly even spared Bellamy a glance as he ducked into the mechanic's tent. With her back turned to him, Raven moved with a jerky, almost frantic energy, hastily stuffing her belongings into her backpack. Every contour of her face was strained with emotion, though she cloaked it beneath the guise of her cutting remarks.

"That's it 'til Jasper gets back," Raven hissed, thrusting a scant handful of bullets into Bellamy's outstretched palm, still refusing to turn towards him. "Now get out of my tent."

If Bellamy were smarter, he would have sensed Raven's need for space and respected it. But–he wasn't; not today, not when time was of the essence. "I thought you'd like to know how Haven's doing," he ventured earnestly, though an edge lingered in his tone. "Clarke thinks she figured it out."

"Great," Raven huffed, "Make sure she fixes her."

As Bellamy observed the Reyes girl cramming more and more belongings into her pack–clothes, rations, ammo–he caught on at once. Raven wasn't merely seeking distance from him; she was actively planning to abandon the entire camp.

He merely arched a brow. "Where you going?"

"The hell out of here," Raven spat.

"What are you talking about?" Bellamy pressed, his incredulity seeping into his tone despite his efforts to contain it. He straightened up, hands clenching into fists at his sides as he fully stepped into the tent. "No way. You're not leaving."

Finally, Raven turned around, the scowl on her lips dripping with disdain. "Really?" she challenged, eyes narrowed, her voice laced with a biting edge that matched the ferocity in her gaze. "And what makes you think you can tell me what to do? Aren't you a janitor?"

Bellamy's jaw tightened as dismissed the snide jab. "Where are you gonna go?"

"Into these damn woods." Raven declared, pivoting on her heels once more. With practiced efficiency, she meticulously checked the chamber of her rifle, ensuring every mechanism was in place, before deftly snatching it from her work station. "Don't worry about it. I'll find someplace safe."

Just as Raven neared the exit, Bellamy smoothly sidestepped in front of her, a physical barrier to her escape. "Just wait," he began, keenly aware of the uncanny resemblance between Raven's glare and that of her best friend. "Haven needs you. You'd really be okay with leaving her like this?" His fists twitched as his sides. "After she saved you?"

Raven screwed her lips into a scorn. "Don't you get it?" she hissed, "That's exactly the point! It's my fault she's like this! If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't have gone after Finn, and he wouldn't have shoved her!" Then, her tone shifted, descending into something deeper, something broken. "She...she wouldn't be dying."

Piece by agonizing piece, Raven's facade began to fracture. Anticipatory grief and unending guilt draped over her like a shroud, shadowing her watery eyes, etching lines of sorrow in her jaw, and causing her fingers to tremble beneath the weight of her anguish, her remorse.

It suddenly dawned on Bellamy why Raven had repeatedly asked him to swap shifts with her over the past two days. More specifically, three times in a row. It wasn't mere coincidence—it was a deliberate evasion. She had been purposely avoiding Haven's bedside because she felt responsible for it. It didn't matter that the blame lay elsewhere; with Haven still unconscious, Raven's guilt remained inescapable.

How could she possibly believe her only solution was to flee?

Accompanied by a newfound understanding, Bellamy wrested with the leash of his exasperation, feeling its tug against his chest as he fought to soften his tone. "Look, Raven..." He released a weary sigh. "That isn't your fault."

        "Isn't it?" Raven croaked, utterly defenseless against the swell of emotion congealing in her throat. "Everyone's going on about some medical condition she's had for the past five years, or something. I–she didn't even tell me." She shook her head. "If I had known...I would've never done something where she'd put herself at risk. Not like that."

        Bellamy felt something splinter within him. The memory of being apart from Octavia during her year in the Sky Box was still fresh, a wound that refused to heal. Yet, the realization that Raven and Haven endured an even longer, five-year chasm between them was like a punch to his gut. The thought was staggering, almost impossible to comprehend. They had gone without each other's presence for so long. And now, finally reunited, their days were not filled with joyful reunion–but with the harsh, unyielding reality of survival.

        "There's a lot she has to catch you up on," Bellamy answered solemnly. "But that's even more reason not to leave. Avoiding her won't make it go away." His voice softened into a quiet admission. "You're only gonna hate yourself."

        Raven narrowed her eyes, a hint of suspicion flickering in their depths. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

        Clouds obscured Bellamy's irises as he hurtled himself back to the present. "Maybe I am," he conceded, his voice void of its former softness, replaced by the steely resolve of his usual stoicism. "Bottom line is, don't be an idiot. You go alone; you're dead–or worse." There was a beat. "You're dead, and you've abandoned your best friend."

        "So what's your plan then?" Raven's voice crackled with defiance, all traces of her vulnerability wiped away by the sleeve of her jacket. "Sit on your ass 'til Haven magically wakes up? Wait until you run out of bullets?"

        Bellamy nodded with a hint of resignation. "Yeah," he huffed, raising his shoulders as if shackled by the reality of their dire situation. Then, he decided to switch his approach. "Or...until you come up with something better."

The Reyes girl lifted a brow.

"Come on, Raven." Bellamy offered her a friendly grin. He understood that appealing to her strengths might provide her with a renewed sense of purpose. If he played his cards right, Raven could remain motivated–and she wouldn't abandon her best friend. "You came down here in a pod you rebuilt yourself. You made a bomb out of a tin can. What else can you do?"

As Raven mulled it over, a whirlwind of ideas spun within her mind, each one sparking with a brilliance that felt almost instinctive. "Radios," she declared, her voice gaining strength with every word. "We can't defend ourselves if we can't communicate. If we can build radios, walkie-talkies..."

"Then we can fight as a team," Bellamy finished. "We'd have a chance, at least."

Raven nodded.

"See? We need you. You may be a huge pain in the ass, but you're smart." Bellamy persisted, gently nudging against the crack in Raven's armor. "Haven needs you too. Clarke said she should be able to hear us..." There was a hopeful lilt in his voice, a suggestion veiled in cautious optimism. "Maybe you should go talk to her."

Convincing Raven Reyes to do anything was no small feat. Trust was a precious commodity for her, hardly reserved for anybody outside of Haven and Finn. Yet, inexplicably, there was something about the boy standing before her that made her entertain the possibility. Perhaps it was the unyielding trust her best friend placed in him, or maybe it was his unwavering vigilance over Haven's safety. Whatever the reason–Raven found herself half-believing that it might just be worth a try.

"Yeah," Raven smiled, "Yeah, I–"

"CLARKE!"

Suddenly, a familiar scream shattered the silence, its sheer intensity enough to rend the air itself.

"CLARKE–HELP! HELP!"

In the deafening silence that followed the cries, a bone-chilling realization settled over them. Though their minds raced to comprehend the gravity of the situation, there was no luxury of contemplation, only the primal instinct to act. With every fiber of their being vibrating with dread, they surged into motion, their bodies moving with a frantic urgency as they tore through the tent's exit.

Bellamy instinctively took the lead, his heart pounding in sync with the frenzied rhythm of his footsteps as he soared across the camp. The sound of Orion's piercing wails echoed through the air, growing louder and louder with every passing moment, a grim herald of the impending tragedy that lurked just ahead. Ignoring the thunderous roar in his ears, he continued to charge towards his tent, bracing himself for the heart-wrenching reality that awaited him within.

As he dove inside, the world around him ceased to exist.

Orion stood poised, her arms braced and palms pressed flat, pumping tirelessly against the fragile flesh above Haven's heart.

"No," Bellamy whispered. "No."

        Hell had certainly descended upon him. He had endured this nightmare far too many times, yet each iteration tore through him like a new wound, raw and unforgiving. No preparation, no reservoir of strength could shield him from the horror unfolding before him.

        Haven had been here, just moments ago, a glimmer of hope in his bleak existence. Yet now, as he beheld her lifeless form, his heart shattered into a million irreparable fragments. It couldn't be real–none of it. She had been here just moments ago. She had to still be here. She had to.

       She had to.

        But the ache in his chest, the hollow emptiness in his soul, spoke a truth too unbearable to deny.

"Oh my god," Raven breathed.

Summoning every ounce of resolve, Bellamy surged forward, swiftly taking Orion's place and plunging into action. His hands instinctively found their place on Haven's chest as he resumed CPR. "What the hell happened?!"

"Her pulse...it got thready, and then it just stopped!" Orion's words tumbled out in a frantic rush, her voice trembling with despair as she fought to steady her own ragged breaths. "I-I was trying to get it going again, but it won't...she won't..."

Raven's hands clasped firmly around Orion's shoulders, wrenching her gaze away from the haunting scene unfolding before them. "Where's Clarke?!"

"She's gone!" Orion shattered into a fresh set of tears, each bead of saltwater carving rivers down her sullen cheeks. "The hunting group already left! Miller went after them, but I don't..." She sucked in a shaky inhale. "I don't know how long it'll take them to get back!"

"We don't have time," Raven breathed, "We don't have time."

Bellamy could hardly hear over the howl of terror in his eardrums. With Haven's life slipping away beneath his touch, the absence of the camp's doctor left him feeling utterly fucking helpless. Yet, he refused to succumb to his grief–not yet. Gritting his teeth, he poured every ounce of his strength into each compression, fighting back tears as he waged a desperate battle against fate itself.

"Come on, Haven!" Bellamy's words were a fervent plea, each syllable punctuated by the force of another compression. "Come on!"

        Two more figures barreled into the tent with such ferocity that the flaps quivered, its structure threatening to surrender to the force of their entry. Jasper charged in first, his movements a blur of adrenaline, followed closely by Monty.

        Jasper's eyes widened in disbelief as he stepped into the tent, his breath hitching in his throat at the immobilizing sight that greeted him. "Hav?"

        "We heard yelling," Monty panted, "Is she..."

        "No!" Bellamy thundered, unyielding with his compressions, his muscles straining with every desperate effort. Sweat cascaded down his furrowed brow from the relentless exertion. He hadn't even tapped into his full force yet, fearing he might fracture her ribs in his fervor. "She's not dying, damn it! She can't!"

Orion, nearly hyperventilating, fought to regain control of her voice amidst the turmoil. "W-What's the plan, then? CPR until she wakes up? Clarke warned us about brain damage!"

As if a surge of clarity had electrified his thoughts, Monty ripped himself from the grips of panic and plunged deeper into the tent. "We need a defibrillator."

"No shit!" Orion countered. "We don't have a defibrillator!"

But Raven, ever the genius, had already latched onto Monty's train of thought. "Then we'll make one!" she proclaimed, locking eyes with Monty in a moment of shared understanding. "All we'll need is something metallic to absorb the shock, and a secondary source to generate the charge."

Orion's shout was incredulous.

        "Where the fuck are we gonna find that?!"

"Think, Monty, think!" The Green boy instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers pressing against his temples as if hoping to coax a plan into existence through sheer force of will. As he finally opened his eyes–they were ablaze with fierce resolve. "Okay! I need a belt buckle, a canteen, a knife–anything metal to act as a conductor. We'll place it on her chest to deliver the shock once we find a power source."

Bellamy knew there was no time to hesitate over their hastily crafted plan. If there was even the slimmest chance that Raven and Monty could revive Haven–so fucking be it. "Jasper, switch with me," he commanded, motioning for the timid boy in the corner to take over compressions. "Switch with me, now!"

Jasper faltered. "I–"

"DO IT!"

Gathering every molecule of his strength, Jasper snapped out of his daze and lunged into action. As soon as Bellamy lifted his hands from Haven's chest, Jasper swiftly took his place, seamlessly continuing the efforts to jumpstart her heart. The fear coursing through him was bone-deep, visceral, but the mere thought of losing his friend, his protector–was utterly unfathomable.

Meanwhile, Bellamy's fingers worked feverishly, a sense of urgency driving his movements as he undid the belt coiled tightly around his waistband. He ripped off the metal buckle using nothing but his bare hands, the sharp, metallic clang reverberating through the air as the fabric surrendered to his force. Without pausing, he flung the discarded buckle towards Monty with a forceful motion, its trajectory also accompanied by the glint of his pocketknife.

"There," Bellamy rasped, "Conductors. Now, what the hell are you gonna use for the power source?"

        Raven clenched her jaw. "The radio."

        "It's the only option that won't risk harming Haven any further," Monty added, his eyes flicking towards Jasper's unwavering compressions before locking onto Bellamy's. "But if Raven takes it apart–there's no going back."

        "We won't be able to hear from the Ark again once the wires are sliced to deliver the shock." A shadow passed fleetingly across the Reyes girl's features as she steeled herself for the impending revelation. "And there's only three that can generate enough electricity to do it."

        Panic tore through Orion's chest as she processed the cruel truth. "Three tries," she whispered, "That's all we've got."

        Bellamy yearned for nothing more than to wrench his heart from his ribs, feeling the raw ache pulse with each beat, then pulverize it into crimson oblivion. In that visceral act of self-annihilation, at least he would be in control of the wreckage that consumed him. While the rest of the group grappled with the horror of having only three chances to revive Haven, they remained blissfully unaware of what Bellamy knew. They hadn't witnessed the sight of Haven's body convulsing under Abby's defibrillator–again, again. and again.

        Because the last time Haven was successfully resuscitated, it hadn't been achieved in three attempts.

It had taken thirteen.

        "If you don't do it–she dies!" Bellamy gestured to Haven with a trembling finger. "Get the damn radio! NOW!"

        Raven vanished through the tarp at once.

        An excruciating silence engulfed those left behind in the tent. The only audible sounds were Jasper's ragged breaths, the haunting creak of Haven's lifeless form pressing against the cot, and the fractured sobs escaping Orion's throat. Each moment stretched endlessly, time itself seeming to bow under the unbearable burden of their anguish.

        It wasn't fair.

Miserably, Bellamy sank to his knees beside the cot, curling his fingers around Haven's limp hand. His movements were slow, almost reluctant, as if every inch closer to Haven's body brought him closer to the edge of his own demise. He refused to dwell on the image of her lifeless and cold; instead, he longed to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his touch, to etch that sensation into his memory for eternity.

"Come on, angel," he whispered, his voice was barely audible amidst the oppressive silence. "Stay with us."

Suddenly, the tent flaps were thrown open as Octavia burst inside, her arrival heralded by the front end of the radio cart, while Raven pushed tirelessly against the rear. With synchronized effort and unwavering determination, they succeeded in maneuvering the massive contraption into the tent–intact.

Octavia wordlessly gripped her brother's shoulder from behind.

Meanwhile, Raven got her ass to work.

The mechanic moved at an otherworldly speed as deftly sliced the tail end of three thick wires from the radio, ensuring the integrity of their connections at the other end. With practiced precision, she swiftly stripped away the insulation from within the wires, revealing the shimmering conductive metal beneath. Then, she seamlessly looped the first wire around the pocketknife and belt buckle, preparing them for their crucial role in the task ahead.

"Where should I put them?" Raven pressed anxiously, holding the conductors above Haven's chest with a sense of awkward uncertainty. Her eyes darted around the tent, searching for guidance amidst the chaos. "I'm not a doctor–I'm a mechanic! Where do they go?!"

"One electrode above the heart," Bellamy's voice spilled out in a hurried torrent, his words racing ahead of his thoughts, a reflexive echo of Abby's teachings. "One below."

Raven didn't bother asking how the hell he could've possibly known that. Instead, she lowered the conductors to the cot, her hands quickly cutting through the fabric of Haven's tank top to expose more of her chest. Just as she was poised to position the objects according to Bellamy's instructions, she froze.

"The scar..." Raven gasped, her breath hitching as her eyes widened in pure horror, fixated on the surgical incision just above Haven's heart. "Why does she have a fucking scar?!"

Monty blew out a tight breath. "Focus, Raven!"

Steeling herself together once more, Raven frantically positioned the flimsy pieces of metal near Haven's heart—one above, one below. There was no time for hesitation, no luxury of double-checking their placement. With hands quivering from adrenaline, she flicked on the power switch for the radio, ensuring its antenna was positioned as closely to the objects as possible. Beside her, Monty hurriedly adjusted the volume and frequency knobs, a silent invocation escaping his lips in hopes that it would conjure enough static electricity through the wires.

"Everybody–hands off!"

All at once, Jasper ceased his compressions, lifting his hands in surrender as he maneuvered between Orion and Octavia, retreating to the corner. Bellamy swiftly followed suit, releasing his delicate hold on Haven's hand and rising to his feet. Though he harbored an instinctive desire to fade into the shadows, he made no attempt to conceal himself, standing resolute between Monty and Raven.

Raven's eyes flashed towards Monty for the signal to proceed. As he nodded, withdrawing his fingers from the tuners, she shakily squared her shoulders. "Delivering the charge in three...two...one!"

        With an electrifying synchronicity, Raven and Monty moved as one entity, their actions seamlessly melding into one. Raven's palms slammed against the capacitors with a force fueled by desperation, while Monty tore the wire from the radio with a swift, violent motion, ensuring the charge surged directly into Haven's chest without rebounding.

        Haven's body convulsed with an almost primal force as the sudden surge of energy coursed through her, each tremor wrenching her from the cot in a violent spasm. For a fleeting moment, she hung suspended in the air, a fragile figure caught between life and death, before gravity reclaimed its hold and dragged her back down.

All eyes were glued to the Smith girl as Raven withdrew the makeshift defibrillator from her chest, waiting with bated breath and studying her tor any sudden movements. But as moments stretched into agonizing eternity, not a single sign of life stirred within her.

Nothing.

        "Dammit!" Bellamy swore, "Again!"

Quick as a shadow, Raven fluidly untangled the dead wire from the belt buckle and pocketknife, her movements precise as she prepared for the next crucial attempt. A guttural sob clawed its way up her throat as she reached for the second wire, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. They had two more chances to save Haven's life; Raven couldn't afford to hesitate now, not when Haven had never hesitated to save hers.

"Three...two...one...CLEAR!"

Again, Haven's torso jolted beneath the surge of electricity, her form suspended in a cruel limbo as Raven pressed the conductors with an almost ruthless force. Again, the group within the tent waited; the crescendo of Jasper and Orion's despair echoing louder with each passing moment. Again, despite the relentless effort, despite the fervent prayers whispered into the void—Haven remained eerily still.

"Please, Hav!" Orion croaked, her voice teetering on the edge of strained mania, "C'mon! Just wake up! Wake up!"

Bellamy met Raven's stare in a broken glance, the weight of their grief shadowing each other's faces with agonizing clarity. Wobbly chins, trembling hands, tear-stricken eyes—they wore their anguish like a mantle, the scars of suffering etched into the very core of their beings, leaving nothing but black holes where their hearts once beat.

They had one more chance to save Haven.

And if they failed, they wouldn't hesitate to follow her into the abyss, bound to her by a force that transcended both life and death.

"Do it."

Raven and Monty heeded Bellamy's command at once. Tears flowed freely from their bloodshot eyes, yet they worked with a feverish intensity, their resolve unshaken by the anguished gasps echoing through the tent. Orion stood with her back turned, her hands tangled in her hair, unable to bear the sight before her. Jasper remained as motionless as a statue, hot tears slick against his sunken cheeks. Octavia's grip on Bellamy's hand was unflinching, a stark contrast to the tremors that racked his body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating weight of despair.

He could barely hold himself upright.

        Trembling, Raven positioned the capacitors above Haven's heart once more, her entire being consumed by a silent prayer as she clung to the last thread of hope.

        "Three!"

        Saltwater splattered against Haven's bare skin as Raven slowly dissolved into sobs above her.

"Two!"

The countdown was nothing but a distant muffle against the pounding in Bellamy's eardrums. With every ticking second, the weight of impending loss bore down on him like an oppressive phantom, driving him to fight against the glassy film blurring his vision. Every blink was a battle against oblivion, a frantic bid to preserve the delicate beauty before him in the recesses of his memory, knowing deep down that it would never be enough.

       It couldn't end like this.

        In her eternal slumber, Haven exuded a serenity that mocked the chaos of their world—no furrow marred her brow, no trace of the burdens she had carried. It was as if, in death, she had found a peace that had eluded her in life.

"One!"

        Agony constricted Bellamy's chest as he remembered the conversation they'd shared on that fateful day aboard the Ark—their final exchange before an entire year separated them.

        "You don't have to stay, you know."

        Haven sat beside him in a hospital gown, an IV line trailing from her right side, each drop a reminder of the impending ordeal awaiting her—a grueling surgery to mend a popped blood vessel. Despite the looming uncertainty, her hair cascaded around her, the longest he'd ever seen it, soft locs slipping through his fingers as he tenderly wove them into a braid at the nape of her neck.

"Why is that?" he asked.

"It's useless."

        "Not to me, it isn't." Bellamy could see the rest of his life in her eyes. "Not if it's you."

        Like thunder, Raven's voice cleaved through the air among them, jolting him back to the unimaginable reality before him with a single syllable.

        "CLEAR!"

Summoning every iota of her strength, Raven drove the capacitors against her best friend's skin, a tortured scream tearing through her throat as the electricity surged through Haven's body. Once Raven withdrew her hands, Monty ripped the final wire from the radio, the metallic clang echoing like a funeral bell in the silence that followed. Each second stretched into an eon as the group stood frozen, suspended between hope and despair, their hearts pounding in unison with the relentless rhythm of uncertainty.

        Nothing.

        Orion was the first to scream.

        But Bellamy refused.

        "Dammit, Haven!" he croaked, his voice raw with panic as he ripped his hand away from his sister's grasp and crumbled to his knees beside the cot. Pathetically, he curled his fingers around Haven's limp hand, oblivious to the denial ravaging his organs. "Come back! You have to come back–please!" He squeezed her palm relentlessly, as if his touch alone could untether her from death itself. "Please! Please! I-I—"

        His words came to a cataclysmic halt as Haven's chest rose with the first breath of life, a fragile gasp that shattered the hell among them.

         At the sound of the weakened exhale that followed, every member of the group nearly collapsed in sheer relief. The tension that had held them in its merciless grip dissipated into the ether like mist—gone, but the memory never forgotten. In that fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. The looming specter of war, the gnawing ache of hunger, the irreparable loss of their communication system–all faded into insignificance, eclipsed by the triumphant resurgence of Haven's heart.

        Orion's arms extended, reaching out like a lifeline to Raven and Monty, pulling them into her embrace with a fierce, almost primal intensity. The force of their convergence set off a chain reaction, unwittingly drawing Jasper and Octavia into the tangled, yet comforting cluster of bodies. Limbs intertwined, hearts beating in unison; they formed a tight, suffocating hug, each breath a gasp of relief as they savored the weight of the world being lifted from their shoulders.

         "She made it," Orion panted, "She fucking made it."

        Although Haven's eyes remained closed, lost in the exhaustion wrought by the torment her body endured, she somehow summoned the strength to tap Bellamy's palm—three times—so lightly that it was almost imperceptible.

        Almost.

        Bellamy's heart soared, delicately entwining his fingers with her own before he brought her knuckles to his lips.

        "Of course she did."

• •

YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!!! HOW WE DOING

this chapter made me SO emotional while writing and reminded me why i love to write :,) i kept the scene with raven because bellamy's connection to those closest to haven is soooo important to me!! hence why there was the scene was orion in the dropship last chapter.  also...im not a doctor or an engineer...but google said the radio idea would work as a defibrillator 🤓 so boom!

expect a lot of original content coming up next. EVERYTHING thats happened this far will all be leading up to the next 2 chapters....

THEY'RE THE BIG ONES YALL🤭🤭🤭 besides the finale of courseee

ARE YOU FUCKIN READDDDDDDDDDYYYYY OR WHAT!!!!!! BE THERE OR BE SQUARE

I FUCKIN LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU!!!!!